I live in walking distance of a movie theater that often shows independent films, and I don't take advantage of this nearly as often as I should. Until yesterday. I got an email that mentioned, among other goings-on in town, the opening of Repo: The Genetic Opera. The title alone hooked me and when I read the synopsis, I knew: this is what I'm doing today.
The premise of the movie is on the off kilter side: in the not too distance and very industrial-goth future, a plague causing organ failure has struck humanity, putting healthy organs into high demand and spurring leaps and bounds in the surgical field. One particular tycoon, Rotti Largo, takes control of basically the whole industry, first, by founding GeneCo. and offering payment plans to help people acquire organs, second, getting ridiculously wealthy and politically powerful, and third, passing a law allowing him to reclaim his 'products' from those who have missed payment deadlines. The Repo-Man carries out the dirty work of repossessing organs, to the delight (that is, disgust) of slasher fans. O there is plenty of blood-n-guts, as one might expect from Saw II, III, and IV director Darren Lynn Bousman. The Repo-Man, who takes a bit of twisted pleasure in his work, is not an out-and-out bad guy: the light of his life is his ailing, motherless daughter, who he keeps locked away... for, ya know, protection...? Well, he means well. Within the Largo family, three over-the-top siblings vie for the inheritance of GeneCo. Then there's the spokeswoman for GeneCo., an opera singer who has some murky back story. Are all the story lines tied up together? You betcha!
Did I mention Repo is all sung? This is grand opera, folks, in all its spared-no-expense sets, costumes, and effects, melo-dramatic, spectacular glory. And I was continually impressed by the quality of the singing. Paul Sorvino as Rotti Largo is despicable and awesome, with a booming, menacing voice to match. Anthony Head, who stunned the fan base with his vocal talents in Buffy the Vampire Slayer's famed musical episode, rocks out once more as the Repo Man. I'm not exaggerating, he ROCKS. All caps. Sarah Brightman plays the opera singer icon of GeneCo., so you know you're getting quality vocals from her. I was impressed with her theatricality as an actress, too, although I guess a professional singer of her ilk would have had some time to hone such a skill. Alexa Vega, of Spy-Kids fame, takes on the lead role of the Repo Man's daughter with a vengeance. Some of her songs were stronger than others, but all in all she gave a great performance. I guess when Joan Jett is backing you up on guitar, it's pretty easy to kick ass. Yeah, just when you thought you had this movie figured out, Joan Jett shows up. The Largo brood, played by Skinny Puppy vocalist Ogre, slasher favorite Bill Moseley, and Paris Hilton (I know. It threw me for a loop) are a bit rough around the edges, but it only makes them more likable. In an interview, Ogre and Moseley refer to future collaborations, and it's pretty awesome to watch their dynamic develop on screen. Also, um, Paris Hilton can sing. Who knew? Besides her however many million fans buying her records (note to self: find times. Get with them).
In addition to some knock out performances, the director's/ writers' fun and games with the opera/ film medium itself is fantastic. Repo constantly reminds viewers that they're watching an enormous, produced creation, not just with its inherent camp and elaborate costumes and sets, but also with plays-within-the-play, comic book inspired transitions to flashbacks, addresses to the audience by the drug dealing narrator. The fourth wall isn't just knocked down, it's all over the damn place.
Repo bills itself as being the next Rocky Horror, and while I can certainly see the similarities, I wouldn't necessarily make that call myself. I would, however, suggest to anyone who feels even the slightest penchant for unconventional musical theater, rock opera, punk cabaret (I guess that's its own sub genre now...?), and/ or gothiness to check this one out.
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