Wow. I mean just….wow.
When I first starting hearing murmurings that Paris Hilton was starring and singing in an operatic movie about a world in which organs are bought on credit, I gave a little snort-laugh and went on with my day. Eventually more information emerged; Sarah Brightman, Paul Sorvino and Anthony Stewart Head were also along for this post-apocalyptic ride. “Giles from Buffy!” I cried. “But he can actually sing!”
As can much of the cast of Repo; even Alexa Varga, who prior to now will only be familar to those of you with children in your lives as “the sister from Spy Kids”. It’s just too bad that, amidst all this vocal talent, very few of the lyrics can be heard. No matter; you really don’t need them to follow the plot.
The movie takes us to a point in the future where a pandemic of organ failure has given rise to a company called GenCo, which will sell you fresh organs on a payment plan and happens to be very serious about receiving those payments on time. Surgery has become so common as to become addictive, as is the fancy designer drug utilized by GenCo to make the surgeries painless.
Oh, and for reasons never explained, it’s always night.
Now doesn’t that sound like the plot line for some fantastic graphic novel or Ridley Scott film? Except it’s not, because everything is sung. Not only is everything sung, it is sung in songs that don’t actually move the plot forward in any way. The worst offender is probably the song “Seventeen” which feels like it was cut from a Lindsay Lohan album.
Besides the songs, way too much attention is given to characters who are really nothing more than window dressing; heirs apparent to the GenCo empire, Luigi and Pavi, are so flat they can’t be bothered to scare , amuse or disgust, which one must assume was their intention.
“Hey,” some of you will cry, “this is meant to be schlock. You’ll be donning your Amber costume and singing along within months!” Therein lies the movie’s real problem; it wants to be a ‘cult classic’ so badly it didn’t bother to be any other kind of movie. When I went to see this film, people were already preparing for the first ever “shadow cast,” to perform that very evening with co-writer Terrance Zdunich flying in just to be a part of it. People were encouraged to sing along despite the fact that most of the theater was just seeing it for the first time. The desperation to be the next Rocky Horror is so evident that a sequence near the end that takes place on a stage is lifted straight from Frank’s final ballad in Rocky.
People, cult status cannot be manufactured. It must be earned, though years of showings and catchy, clever songs whose words can actually be understood by just listening. Despite a cast of underground favs and a purportedly edgy setting, Repo just isn’t going to make the cult cut. If you’re curious and want to see it, don’t worry. Someone will steal this premise and make a better version any day now, sans the lyrical genius of “Happiness is not a warm scapel.”
