Some people clearly inhabit a different world.
This world typically manifests itself on street corners, where its residents can be recognized by their alien grammar on handmade signs that take strong political stances against problems that may not exist.
The voices of such people are pretty small. Unless they've discovered megaphone technology or the magic of rainbow wigs. Once in a rare while, though, one of these corner-dwellers grabs a camera. If we're very, very lucky, the result is something like 1984's Repo Man.
Emilio Estevez's punk attitude costs him his job and his girlfriend. Repo man Harry Dean Stanton takes Estevez under his wing, but the pair soon wind up entangled in the hunt for a car with a deadly secret in its trunk.
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There's not a ton of consensus when it comes to cult classics. Rankings and classifications essentially boil down to "classic" or "not classic," and then everyone involved in the decision starts shouting in a way that rarely happens when, say, a group of people is determining whether a thing is blue or not-blue. There are no governing bodies about these things. Unless they've been kept a secret from me. Which would be almost as rude as the gesture I'm making in response.
As far as these things go, though, Repo Man is a classic among cult classics. It's about as well-known as an unknown movie can get before its cult status is revoked completely. Which it would probably resent, if it suddenly became self-aware, because Repo Man is a punk movie.
It opens with a cop being vaporized, his boots smoking beside the highway. Estevez then quits his job at the grocery store via a dignified combination of loud swearing and shoving a coworker through a display stand. Later, he has his former manager beaten with a baseball bat. His former friends rob liquor stores and concoct fiendish plans to eat sushi and then not pay for the sushi.
Repo Man is more about these moments than it is about any coherent plot. Possibly because the plot kind of sucks. Occasionally, people try to chase down a car with a glowy trunk, and then it's right back to repossessing cars in the cracked streets and strip malls of a very unpleasant Los Angeles, where food is served in comically oversized cans labeled "FOOD" and everyone seems to be named after a beer.
Like the best cult movies, no moment is wasted. Writer/director Alex Cox fills the film with quotable dialogue, throwaway absurdist satire and perverse stories about John Wayne. Repo Man's ending is goofy, but like the trip it took to get there, it's weirdly thrilling, too.