By C.J. Henderson
There has been a great deal of buzz over this week’s film, “Repo: A Genetic Musical.” There are reasons for this, from its highly eclectic cast to its director, Darren Lynn Bousman. In case you are unaware, Bousman is the director of the first three “Saw” films, and as such, obviously a most unusual choice to direct a musical. It” possible the director himself agrees with that assessment. Here’s what he had to say about the idea.
“Forget the genre, forget the music, forget the horror. It’s an experience that you should have in a movie theater with a group full of people. This is nothing like you’ve ever seen before. That’s the most exciting thing for me. It’s brand new. It’s catchy, it’s cool, it’s hip, it’s edgy, it’s dark, it’s sexy. It’s everything and I think that there’s something in it for everyone.”
I have to give Bousman credit for honesty. In all that hyperbole, never once did he say it was good.
He was right not to do so.
The story: In the near future, for some unknown reason people’s organ begin to fail. Enter GeneCo, a biotech company that seemingly can replace anything within the body for a price. And, they even allow folks to have their surgery done on the installment plan. Of course, miss a payment and they send the repo man after you to murder you in the street. Oh, and don’t worry, apparently congress has approved all of this.
At the heart of GeneCo is its founder, Rotti Largo (Paul Sorvino). He is the father of three children, all of whom are such sickening creatures even he can’t stand them. Dying, he plans on leaving GeneCo to Shilo (Alexa Vega) the daughter of one of his employees, his repo man (Anthony Stewart Head). But, only if he can convince her to murder her father. You see, Largo loved her mother, but she left him to marry the repo man. So Largo poisoned her mother, but made the repo man think he did it …
There’s more, oh dear Lord, there is so much more. The plot of this thing stacks up endlessly, like pancakes at a boy scout jamboree. But, it does not matter for sadly, none of it adds up to anything. Most of the characters are so monstrously inane, so lacking in motivation, so random in their actions that it is simply impossible to care enough about any of them to get involved in what happens to them.
The writing on all levels is horrendous. Especially the songs. None of the lyrics are particularly clever. Most repeat lines over and over as if the songwriters felt the audience was too stupid to remember them without a sales pitch level of repetition (“that number again is …:).
The actors are not to blame here, either. Most of them struggle along with what they were given. Even, remarkably, Paris Hilton turns in a fine performance. It is certainly better than her excruciating showing in “House of Wax.” Then again, she plays a spoiled neurotic bitch addicted to shopping and cosmetic surgery, so perhaps there is something to be said for type casting after all.
Nor can the musicians be blamed. The songs might be terrible, but the music is, while simple and uninspired, at least not bad. Brian Young is there, along with Stephen Perkins, Tommy Clefetus, Blasko, Richard Patrick and many others.
No, this flaws in this film are all the fault of its creative team. I am always ready to applaud Hollywood for giving unknown writers a chance, or pigeon-holed directors the opportunity to spread their wings. But, don’t ask me to not complain when they fail miserably.
And, this film is one spectacular failure. Poor sound quality keeps one from understanding most of the songs. Those you can interpret are childish and for the most part nonsense. The lighting is oppressive and clumsily bleak. Things do not seem dark because the filmmakers are after a mood; they seem to be dark because the lighting board is being run by an incompetent.
There is so much more I could complain about, but let me simply say that politically, logically, story-wise, everything is wrong with this truly awful disaster of a film.
The only thing that I will add is that I did see this one by myself. The person who was going to go with me called the night before the screening begging off. They had cracked a molar, which had caused their gums to become hideously infected. In terrible pain when they called, they were, instead of seeing “Repo,” in for hours of wretched drilling and dental surgery.
Some people have all the luck.
Our final word: 0 stars out of 5.
