Like the best 1980s works of John Carpenter, Alex Cox's Repo Man is just as timely in 2019 as it was upon release 35 years ago. Fascinatingly enough, certain aspects feel even more timely now. Cox's influences are made apparent right from the start, as Iggy Pop's punk theme dominates the opening credits, only to shift to a more western style score (courtesy of Steven Hufsteter and Humberto Larriva) once the first scene begins. The first character introduced is J. Frank Parnell (Fox Harris), and he is driving the Chevy Malibu that will become the object in great demand throughout the movie. It is of note that his glasses have one clear lens and one dark, as if to suggest one eye is blind while the other sees. In other words, we're never getting the whole picture. Frank gets pulled over by a motorcycle cop who happens to have a pine tree air freshener hanging from his windshield, the first of many recurring images the movie will present to us in regards to consumerism. The officer requests to look in the trunk and once it is opened, a bright light emerges and he evaporates, nothing left but a pair of smoking boots. This disorienting scene perfectly sets up the tone of the movie, which will gleefully and mischieviously play by its own rules. More on the trunk contents later.
It's fitting that we meet the movie's anti-hero, Otto (Emilio Estevez), working in a grocery store, surrounded by products. Even though they are generically labeled (every item, right down to the champagne, has a white label with black type), Otto's co-worker, Kevin (Zander Schloss) energetically sings a jingle from a 7-UP commercial ("America's drinking 7-UP!"). Even while putting price tags on unmarked cans, there's still no escaping product placement. Otto's manager fires him after he uses vulgar language, only leaving once the Latino security guard pulls a gun on him (if you watch the bottom left corner of the frame as Otto leaves, you can see the security guard twirl his gun like a cowboy, showing the influence of American culture, though the uniform and the false sense of power that comes with it may be as close as this person of color will ever get to the American Dream).
Down on his luck in more ways than one, Otto catches the attention of Bud (Harry Dean Stanton), a haggard repo man looking to find new recruits. He lures Otto into stealing a car, the perfect match for a young punk who can score some cash taking a person's most prized possession away. The repo outfit is called "Helping Hand," an obvious jab at the treatment of the working class. Bud and the other repo men seem to barely be middle class (if that), yet they still prey on those struggling to get by just as they are. Otto only agrees to become a repo man once he sees how lousy the other options are (while looking at the want ads, Kevin exclaims, "There's room to move as a fry cook"). Naturally Otto, like everyone else, wants to know how often he gets paid ("Work on commission. That's better than getting paid."). First though, Bud must teach him the Repo Code, a series of guidelines such as, "Only an asshole gets killed for a car." Otto learns the hard way that this could even be a concern after being shot at, maced in the eyes, and during a house visit where he tries to take a car that's on a jack. During the latter, we get a glimpse of how Otto has started drinking the Kool Aid, as he is now wearing a suit, has a brief case, and is still going to a take an African American woman's car even as she tells him that she's behind on payments due to being in the hospital. Otto's transformation is a gradual one: it starts with T-shirts and a blazer and eventually develops into dressing, as Bud describes it, "like a detective...they dress kind of square."
Otto has a love interest, or in his case, someone to have sex with and receive sexual favors from, named Leila (Olivia Barash). She too, is looking for the Malibu, specifically because she is convinced there are "aliens" in the trunk. All Otto cares about, and all the other repo men for that matter, is that the car is worth $20,000. It's fitting that this in-demand car is a Chevy Malibu, because what's more All American than a Chevy and what better representation is there for paradise than Malibu? In other words, this car represents the American Dream, and it is always out of reach for the characters here. As for the "aliens" in the trunk, at one point, someone asks if they are illegal aliens, a distinct parrallel to immigration since many people crossing the border must hide in the trunks of cars and, given what happens when the trunk of the Malibu is opened, they are automatically considered dangerous. Their needs are never considered, only apprehending them (as we see from the white men in suits who are always trying to stop Leila's efforts to rescue them from the trunk).
The movie takes place in a western city, presumably a border one, and focuses solely on the hardships of those struggling. Bud, who has been in the game for a long time, looks down on not only the wealthy but also the poor. Like anyone else, his goal is ultimately to have enough money to "sit around and let everyone else do the work for a while." Yet the characters are always quick to take opportunities for granted because they are too busy chasing a shallow and unattainable Dream. After jacking a car, Otto finds some wrapped gifts in the back seat and tosses them out the window. Soon after, it is revealed they were filled with stacks of $100 bills. Instead, a book titled "Dioretix: The Science of Matter Over Mind" (linked to Scientology) is a worthy back seat discovery, though in the end, it is valued just as much as the Bible. Organized religion is mercilessly attacked in Repo Man, beginning with Otto's parents, former hippies who have been literally hypnotized by a televangelist and have given all of their money to his "cause" (supposedly sending Bibles to El Salvador). When this same televangelist approaches the Malibu with a large Bible, the car retaliates by setting it on fire ("Holy Sheep Shit!"). Another visual clue is a sign in a convenience store window that reads, "Drink $3.16," suggesting that religion is, like everything else, a product being marketed and sold to the masses to separate us from the few dollars we have.
Capitalism has eaten this city alive, as we see from the state of the streets and the homeless and deprived people who roam them. There are never any recognizable landmarks or tall buildings...instead, there are shots of sewers, garbage blowing in the wind, and torn posters of white male politicians giving a shit eating grin that carries nothing but empty promises. And it's those smiles that have kept the population from achieving "happiness." The closest they get are yellow smiley face buttons or wrist watches, a blink-and-you miss-it effort to mask the illusion that everything is fine. At one point, a group of punks are seen stealing prescription drugs, leading us to wonder if it's just an easy way to get high or if they are suffering from lack of affordable health care (or both). The leader of that group, Duke (Dick Rude), always refers to their robberies as a "job," and late in the movie has a talk with his girlfriend about settling down, getting a house, and having a baby. After all, "everybody does it, so it seems like the thing to do." Even though Duke and his gang are anarchists, they still have been influenced by the society that shaped them. The same could be said for Otto, at least at the start, but as the movie reaches its conclusion, the blinders have been removed, thanks to a ride in the Malibu with Frank ("You ever feel like your mind is starting to erode?"), and Miller (Tracy Walter), the guy responsible for emptying the cars out once they are delivered to "Helping Hand." Miller's theories on...well everything, might seem like insane rambling, but he's one of the only characters we meet who boasts about a love for reading (which he does on the bus due to the fact that, "the more you drive, the less intelligent you are"). By the time the movie reaches it surreal and bonkers conclusion, Otto's journey has come full circle. As Duke lays dying and tries to blame society for what he became, Otto corrects him with the reminder that they are both white kids from the suburbs. The system caters to them above any others, making Repo Man an unapologetic attack on the hypocrisy of white privilege.
I notice that I've made Repo Man seem like a grim experience, and it is the furthest thing from that. It presents its ideas through a series of radically inventive comic scenes, characters, and dialogue, much of which is delivered with more than hint of deadpan. This is a satire, first and foremost, an large extended middle finger to Reagan era politics. Alex Cox may not be an American, but he clearly saw how the policies of the '80s were affecting not just the United States, but the world (we briefly glimpse Reagan's involvement in Nicaragua, which Cox would explore fully in his equally gonzo Walker). Even though Repo Man was well received upon its release, it still feels ahead of its time, an ingenious and loosely constructed comedy that, like the punk rock music that seems to have inspired it, is not concerned with how much sense it makes on the surface or how pretty it looks, so long as you are shaken by what lives in its core. I've seen it at least 20 times, with no two viewings being even remotely close to the same. Yet the final scene always carries the same jarring and electrifying effect. When Otto finally climbs into the glowing green Chevy Malibu for a ride into the night sky, the first twinkling lights we see are those of the bank skyscrapers that hold the people beneath them hostage. In letting go of the material world and all that it entails, Otto is able to see what lies beyond it, shooting straight for the stars and finally achieving enlightenment. At long last, he is no longer a punk kid from the suburbs, or a repo man, or any other label from an unforgiving society. He simply exists, and this unprecedented movie experience proudly makes us believe there is nothing better than that.
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