What is Repo Man all about? The enduring debut of Alex Cox, it's a melting pot of bizarre ideas, philosophical musings and potent social commentary, yet it's quite hard to define exactly what the abiding message is. There's certainly fear of the bomb, echoes of government conspiracy and the Roswell cover-up, talk of revolution in Latin America (one of Cox's major themes), and a few very funny pops at religion. But aside from bringing together these disparate elements from the fringes of American life, what does it have to say? Perhaps it's a fairly nihilistic film. In it's comic juxtaposition of so many contradictory moral and spiritual codes, perhaps it's fair to say that Repo Man's anarchic central philosophy is that nothing really matters. All of its characters are, at their best, amoral and anti-social and it is without any consequence for the world that the people of Repo Man die, with Otto (Emilio Estevez) telling one dying kid "you're a white suburban punk just like me". Nothing special and certainly nothing worthwhile. "But it still hurts" is the forlorn reply, but that's of little consequence. The dead bodies of other supporting characters are also dispensed with casually. A mad scientist - a person everybody has been chasing (the repo men to possess his car and the police in order to arrest him) - dies in Otto's company, only for the youth to throw him on the sidewalk and drive off in his 1964 Chevrolet Malibu. He is later incinerated by men is hazmat suits. Otto later happens upon his friend Kevin (Zander Schloss) dying under a sheet in a hospital - and all he does is cover him back up again, not even pausing to hear him speak. Who cares if Kevin lives or dies? Certainly nobody in the world as we're shown it here. But I think Alex Cox cares: that these seemingly apathetic moments are all in service of the film's (justifiably) cynical take on Reagan-era America and, in a broader sense, capitalism. That's where I think the film is about something, as opposed to being an entertaining and endlessly quotable marriage of bizarre individual episodes and humorous anecdotes. The repo men of the film are the last defense of capitalism: they are the guys who come round when you won't (or can't) pay. They act like cops but without any accountability and there is little obvious difference between them and some of the petty hoods they feud with. They carry weapons and pull devious tricks on their "customers", with the ends always justifying the means and with absolute moral certainty. Otto's teacher in the ways of the car repossession business, Bud (Harry Dean Stanton) lives by a phony code that allows him to feel a sense of misplaced superiority in this world of generic tinned goods and televangelists. "If only we could find out what they owe" he says of Los Angeles homeless, seeing everyone as cheating the system: as though their status as bums were an act to avoid paying their dues. Bud is a man who believes in the infinite possibilities of having a "spotless" credit rating. He doesn't like commies or Catholics in his car, presumably because there is only room for his hyper-aggressive brand of capitalism. This critique continues into every aspect of the film. Every time we see Kevin (the obvious ancestor of both Napoleon Dynamite and The Simpsons' Jeremy Freedman) he has a different job, despite his optimistic claim that "There's fuckin' room to move as a fry cook. I could be manager in two years." Here low-wage jobs flipping burgers, pumping gasoline and stacking supermarket shelves are interchangeable and equally lacking in opportunity. They certainly don't inspire any sense of purpose. It's for this reason that the film's aimless youths roam the streets looking to "do some crime". "Let's go get sushi and not pay" is a goal that seems to speak to the height of their aspirations.
Extras
First up, it's great that this Universal back catalogue title has been given the Eureka Masters of Cinema treatment for Blu-ray. The studio's releases of older titles have, to date, been lacklustre - poor transfers, few extras and the ugliest possible menus. The reverse is true of the Masters of Cinema Series which are, conversely, the closest Region B Blu-ray buyers come to the celebrated Criterion Collection. This release of Repo Man is no different, with a pristine transfer, artful packaging and some really interesting features made in collaboration with Alex Cox. Alongside the original theatrical release, there is the slightly extended American TV version of the film (97 minutes), with some alternative editing, altered dialogue and additional footage. There is a newly recorded Alex Cox introduction to the film (11 minutes) in which, among other things, the outspoken auteur criticises Universal for using the title Repo Men in order to imply the 2010 Jude Law vehicle is in some way associated with his film. He also talks about the difficulties in getting the film distributed, explaining how strong sales of its punk rock soundtrack helped convince executives the film might have an audience. There's a bizarre and antagonistic (22 minute) interview with actor Harry Dean Stanton at his home, in which he muses on his personal philosophy and omits Cox from a list of great directors he's worked with, saying that he's an example of a filmmaker who "never got his shit together". This odd relationship between Cox and Stanton is talked about further in "Repossessed" - a (26 minute) round-table discussion between Cox and two of the film's producers, Peter McCarthy and Jonathan Wacks. Here Cox discusses, among other things, how he wanted to fire Stanton from the film midway through shooting on the grounds that he was "dangerous", telling a story about how the actor almost hit someone with a baseball bat during a scene. Cox explains how, instead of letting him go, he wrote Stanton out of several scenes - fearing that the studio would sack him rather than lose a more established film talent in Stanton. Perhaps more fascinating is the insight this short doc provides into the actual shooting, talking in detail about cinematographer Robby Müller. Whilst Cox bemoans Müller's use of a tripod, suggesting that handheld cameras might have injected more dynamism into the film, he suggests the Dutchman's beautiful shot compositions, shooting only in masters, made the trade-off worth it. The producers tell an interesting anecdote about the cameraman's point-blank refusal to shoot inserts, leading to a tantrum when he discovered that they'd shot some coverage without his involvement. The most interesting feature is probably "The Missing Scenes" - a look at the film's deleted scenes, but with a difference. Instead of presenting the scenes in their entirety and back-to-back, Cox shows the scenes to Sam Cohen, the inventor of the neutron bomb, and has a philosophical discussion with him about their meaning - as well as the morality of inventing and deploying horrifying weaponry. It's nothing like as pretentious as it sounds, with the men having a very genuine and high-spirited conversation. They talk over most of the deleted scenes, with Cox being very frank about how bad he thinks some of them are, elevating this above most other features of this kind. The whole thing takes a turn for the surreal when Cox decides to show some of these deleted scenes to a character from his film, mad scientist J. Frank Parnell (payed here by a man doing a decent impression of the late Fox Harris). It's nice to see a filmmaker embrace the possibilities of extra features in this way, doing something inventive that enhances the experience of watching the film. Alex Cox's contributions to this Blu-ray of Repo Man are totally in keeping with the spirit of the film itself. Also included is an amusing original theatrical trailer (2 minutes) which tries to sell this indefinable film by declaring: "it's a mystery, it's a comedy, it's a chase...". On the audio side of things, the film is presented with its original mono soundtrack, complete with optional SDH subtitles. There is also the option to play the film with only the music and sound effects. As if these strange and often brilliant extras weren't enough, there is also a commentary track on the feature, with Cox, the film's droll executive producer Michael Nesmith (of The Monkees fame) and several other members of cast and crew participating. Many of the above features, including the commentary, are ripped from an earlier DVD release. And whilst that would usually knock a few points off the score the extras here are so good that to demand new - perhaps inferior - extras would be churlish.