Medea is transformed into a lovesick rock chick called Furious in this satire on celebrity culture that is so lame it would scarcely past muster in a broom cupboard. The level of satire is indicated by the fact that MTV becomes EMPTY V.
When failing country and western star Frank, touring what he believes to be the third world (Greece, actually), reluctantly hooks up with a young singer and they start sleeping and writing songs together, he and his career get a new lease of life. Frank is suddenly back at the top of the charts and his record company signs his girlfriend and rechristens her Furious. Soon the angst-ridden Furious is the biggest-grossing artist on the planet.
Only Lisa Jones, the Cruella de Vil-style head of the record company, has other plans for them. With a new album looming, Frank must be separated from the pregnant Furious and married off to Lisa's daughter.
The plot hardly stacks up. Why would a record company, with all its talk of units and dollars, be quite so eager to kill its golden geese? And Johnny Brown's words drip acid cynicism and cliches. This 90 minutes makes MTV look philosophical.
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