Review of Pepe

. . . clueless man-child named PEPE. Though this jumbled mess of a flick about making a mixed-up misfire of a film produced once kids' song slightly more tolerable than the purple dinosaur "Barney's" ditty, that's not saying a lot. Apart from this title track, the rest of the PEPE song and dance numbers make up an olio of random styles apparently intended to provide something for everyone (but more likely to furnish nothing of lasting interest to anyone). More than anything, PEPE's easy-come-easy-go refrain serves as a three-hour infomercial for the idea that money grows on trees Out West, particularly in Las Vegas, Hollywood and Acapulco. If PEPE came out Today, no doubt a more jaded generation of film censors would brand it with an "NC-17" rating for its pervasive bestiality theme. Though the cast does not actually act out the various illegal couplings suggested by the dialog, no one's alive Today who would know what got left on the floor of the editing room. An educated guess would place any such deleted scenes in a restricted-access archive somewhere within Vatican City.