predator
Directed by John McTiernan
USA 1987 18 R
Review by Jim Eadon
This is more of a postmortem analysis than a review, so ***
SPOILERS*** ahoy!
Shelby sent his review of
Predator, which I promptly posted
here. I'd seen snippets of
Predator, up to the middle of the film, but only whilst I was hammered after a night in the boozer in a shared house in London. So my recollections were poor, not least because my attention was divided betwixt my housemates, as opposed to the crumby tv.
So I saw
Predator for the first time recently on DVD. In no particular order, I have to say that my first impression is that
Predator (released in 1987) benefits from a relative absence of the type of plasticky CGI that is the scourge of so many modern movies. The explosions exhibited in the attack upon the enemy camp seem genuine, and are compelling. By watching this illusion born of reality, I was reminded of how fake many explosions look in movies circa 2003. Needless to say, in real life, as Islamic terrorism woefully demonstrated in a spectacle that visually surpassed any SFX (the bastards), explosions are usually organic, hot and grotty.
Observe the men of
Predator: greasy, shit eating soldiers, all brawn and stubble. Again, this is how action should be, as opposed to the pretty action star bullshit we are spoon fed today. The eighties were an era when real men were allowed to be men. And, no, I'm not alluding to homoeroticism, I'll leave that sort of thing to Keanu fans :)
A moment of nauseating horror, though, was to realise that one of the kick-ass squaddies wearing an MTV T-shirt. WTF??? How lame can you get? A horrible, early case of product placement, and one that will prevent me thinking this movie perfect. What in fuck's name is a squaddie doing wearing a freaking kiddie-orientated MTV T-shirt? MTV: a soulless product of a selfish, marketing driven money-machine, a pigopolist music industry monstrosity, is polluting a perfectly good movie. A deal made back in '87 has tainted a movie for at least one viewer in the next century: that ad should be digitally erased, preferably using Linux box.
Then we have Arnie, the ultimate, iconic action man. In
Predator, Arnie was supposed to be *The Best*, yet, unless he was bluffing, which wouldn't have made much sense, he apparently fell for the obvious bullshit about his mission that his CIA mate spouted. This was actually a nice plot move, they didn't want The Best, they wanted The Stupid. Yeah, beautifully cynical.
Predator has surprising self-discipline, a straight action movie that is not scared to take it easy and crank up the tension. There is no bloodletting for a long time in this movie. Few modern action directors/producers risk delaying action, note the mandatory explosion fest that kicks off most modern action flicks. James Bond did it, and now they all do it. It's like watching a trailer of the movie within the movie.
The excitement of
Predator is enhanced because, in true Jaws style, you do not see the beastie for quite a while. Like the Indian dude with the uncanny tracking skills, we sense it, through the flappings and squawks of birds; the rustlings of leaves; shifting refractions of light, or through an ominous presence. I loved that Indian (oh, sorry, Native American) character: he was cliché, but an essential ingredient to our band of heroes, and, like him, our nostrils are keen for the scent of blood, our eyes scan for claw, our hearts await the bite, our sick brains are braying for sickening, grim, indulgent violence.
Brassy military marches imbue mundane shots of people shuffling through frond, leaf and vine an air of nervous energy. Which, indeed, must be present when each footstep may snare you in some booby trap; when the enemy may be only yards away; when each obstacle may be your last.
The village fight was cruel, people burned to death: unpleasant, yet, in a way, titillating, hence my guilt doth seethe behind my veneer of "it's *only* a movie" sentiments.
Major spoilers... Half way into the movie, we are deep into human-herd-gets-picked-off-one-by-one territory. Perhaps inevitably, when watching a movie twenty years after it was made, so much seems cliche, the experience is inevitably diluted by the homages of a million rip offs. I'm not sure how innovative the gun sight laser spot on flesh was at the time, but it was done viscerally in this movie. When matey saw those little red dots, he knew he was about to cough up for the agricultural emporium. There was one cliché that the movie admirably avoided: I was expecting the girl to help save the day, by appearing out of the blue and distracting the
Predator at a critical moment. When Arnie won single-handedly, I was pleasantly surprised. Two against one would not have been nearly so satisfying.
There is something authentic in
Predator that is lost in this day of digital effects, though I do love digital effects when they are done properly (i.e. Lord Of The Rings). But
Predator drips dayglo green blood of nostalgia as well as thrill. The monster is nothing but a flicker for most of the movie, like an alien milk bottle. His eyesight is retarded, an infrared camera on LSD. This is good. I want to see it, I want to see the
Predator kill, kill and kill again!
Arnie himself is a fine source of entertainment. Just listen to him mock the alien with a devastating critique of its physiognomy, and you'll see what I mean. Another great line from this movie is, of course, from Arnie. This line was perhaps the most optimistic line in the realm of a hopeless situation I can remember in any movie. Say it in a steady Austrian accent: ?If it bleeds, we can kill it?. Next time the shit hits the fan, remember the parable of
Predator and take heart.
Arnie is president of the USA, is that how it ends?
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