The Decline of Western Civilization/Repo Man (Sat., Aug. 27, 7 p.m.,$6, International House, 3701 Chestnut St., 215-895-6542) As much products of Los Angeles' image-driven culture as a rebellion against it, Penelope Spheeris' storied documentary and Alex Cox's warped underground comedy are as much satires of the punk rock scene as endorsements of it. Decline features footage of Black Flag and X at the height of their powers, but its most memorable image is the Germs' Darby Crash slurring his way through a set that's at once primal and pathetic. The subtitles plastered over his formless howls seem less like a translation than a sly joke, or a whisper from beyond the grave; by the time the movie came out, Crash was dead. Spheeris, who was in her mid-30s when she made Decline, clearly respects the music's raging immediacy, but she has enough distance to see its dark side as well, the racism and fag-baiting that flourish in the scene's aggro atmosphere.

Spheeris' title was ironic, but by 1984, Cox was taking it seriously, or as seriously as anything . The bands that hadn't hit it big had broken up or devolved into one-note thrashers, and nihilism had eaten through the veneer of bravado. When one punk suggests that they "do some crimes," the best her compadre can come up with is to "eat sushi and not pay." Take that, Mr. Man!

Although Repo Man lifts from Robert Aldrich's bleak atom-era thriller Kiss Me Deadly, it feels like the bomb's already been dropped. What attracts Otto (Emilio Estevez) to the life of a repo man is less Harry Dean Stanton's promise that it's "always intense" than Stanton's couldn't-give-a-fuck attitude and generalized hostility ("Ordinary fuckin' people — I hate 'em"). But where Pink Flamingos' satire hid a passionate attack on suburban conformity, Cox doesn't seem to care about not caring; in the heart of Reaganland, even nihilism has lost its meaning.

Found Footage Festival (Sat., Aug. 27, 9 p.m., $7, Vox Populi Gallery, 1315 Cherry St., fourth floor) The assortment of forgotten, lost and deliberately obscure video clips that make up this Small Change screening may not be "culled from the depths of hell," but be glad Nick Prueher and Joe Pickett have trolled Midwestern flea markets and watched cable TV late into the night on your behalf. The music-themed program includes a scared-straight video diary from Corey Haim, 1989-era tips on beating Nintendo games, and strong representation from the great state of Wisconsin. Complete program at www.smallchangescreenings.com.