Photos courtesy of Netflix.
I swear, I really wanted to like this one. For my own sake — and yours — I’ll try to be brief.
I’m very picky when it comes to my horror musicals. “Sweeney Todd” usually does the trick, with the right combination of dark, gothic Victorian sadness; and the music is pretty killer and catchy. “The Threepeny Opera,” while not fully falling under the category of horror, is dark, gritty and vulgar enough while being uncomplicated and interactive. The 2008 feature film “Repo! The Genetic Opera,” based on the 2002 musical, seems to have tried to be a winning combination of the two, but you just end up feeling dizzy from all the senseless commotion.
Because it ain’t a goth dystopia if it ain’t got dirt. Thems the rules.
In a world riddled by widespread organ failure and pollution, getting a new kidney or a new face is as easy as buying a new car — courtesy of GeneCo, run by the Largo family. But like missing a car payment, once you’re late with the cash that shiny new kidney gets taken back to the warehouse. It’s a dirty job, but that’s why there’s Repo men to do the thankless work. Nathan Wallace (Anthony Stewart Head), tries to keep his gruesome profession a secret from his ailing daughter, Shilo (Alexa PenaVega), whom he raised alone after his wife died of the same disease. But after Largo Rotti (Paul Sorvino) — the head of GeneCo — finds out he’s dying he takes special interest in Shilo and threatens the security Nathan has provided. What ensues is a bloodbath leading up to the night of the famous and highly anticipated, Genetic Opera.
I’m with you on that one.
I have a few questions. Why is it never daylight in the 2050s? Even if people are dying left and right, does the city literally have to be in ruins? Why is the wallpaper so awful? Who let this movie happen?
As it should be with all musicals, the first thing to be scrutinized should be the music: and it sucks. You’d expect some wit from a score that covers grave-robbing and organ resections, but it’s just awful. With the exception of a couple numbers, the lyrics are mostly annoying and redundant. Sadly, there isn’t enough vocal talent to balance out the writing; you can tell that Pena Vega is really trying, but she can’t seem to hit those notes where they’re needed. Stewart Head and Sarah Brightman (who plays Blind Mag, and whose collaboration with Andrea Bocelli gives me all sorts of wonderful feelings) are the two lights at the end of this bloody tunnel belting out those badass notes when you need them most. The relief soon fades and you feel thankful for earplugs.
Tickle, tickle.
With horror comes an expected level of gore and vulgarity, but this reached a ridiculous level of creepy. Maybe it was the fact that –even though it’s mean to be a satire of consumerism — the film just takes itself too seriously and it doesn’t let up. Ripping out your own eyeballs and taking cutting out someone’s spine is one thing. Maniacally singing a jolly tune while using your live victim as muppet? That’s just gross. For a satire, it’s not very funny.
The one pleasant suprise, however, was Paris Hilton’s performance as Amber Sweets, Largo’s daughter. While she 
and her disturbed brothers are addicted to surgery, Amber is the one who suffers the most scrutiny — falling under the media’s knife, so to speak. Amber, in the pursuit of physical perfection and drugs, sabotages herself time again with one final nail in the coffin, live for the world to see. It seems that Hilton channeled her own experiences into the character, provoking some sympathy. It’s not Oscar worthy, but it’s not half bad either.
In the end, this movie isn’t even ironically worth your time. It’s a disappointment. It had blood, guts, rock music, quirky goth style and science fiction all rolled into one. What could have possibly gone wrong? Apparently everything.
