Oct 101987
 
3,5 reels

Major ‘Dutch’ Schaeffer (Arnold Schwarzenegger) and his commandos (Jesse Ventura, Bill Duke, Sonny Landham, Richard Chaves, Shane Black), along with CIA agent George Dillon (Carl Weathers), are sent deep into a South American jungle to rescue hostages.  What they find is a previous team of soldiers skinned, and an extraterrestrial hunter.

One of the iconic alien invasion films, Predator is often, and unfairly, compared to Alien (or Aliens).  If you hear someone tell you that this film is like Ridley Scott’s masterpiece, it means they don’t understand either film.  Alien was an intelligent, psychological, sci-fi horror film—a haunted house in space.  Predator is a simple, testosterone-driven, sci-fi action flick.  The only similarity is the sci-fi part, and they are on opposite sides even there.  There’s no exotic, beyond understanding creatures in Predator.  There’s just a nutty, human-like critter with gadgets.

Judging it for what it is, with its goal of exciting, mindless entertainment for guys,   Predator is a success.  Even before the monster shows up, Arnold and company are supplying all the explosions and firepower needed for a good afternoon of beer drinking and movie watching.  Once crab-face puts in an appearance (well, he’s mainly invisible early on), Predator is notched up to one of the best blood and bullet films made.

There is competence, if not brilliance, in every part of the production.  The actors all ably pull off their roles as tough, paper-thin, killing-machines-turned-victims.  It may not take a lot of acting skill, but the right type.  Stan Winston’s creature has become famous, and rightfully so.  Sure, it’s just a humanoid with a weird face and dreadlocks, but that’s what was needed.  Director John McTiernan, who would go on to make Die Hard, understands that for an action film, pacing is the most important element.  There are no empty moments, no slow points.  Everything moves like lightning.

The biggest flaw is the Reagan-era South American anti-communist bit.  In the ’80s, it felt like half the films being made were about tough Americans mowing down some reds in El Salvador.  (You may recall the U.S. was supporting the fascists down there at the time).  A bit less flag waving and a bit more extraterrestrial mayhem would have improved the film.  Still, the commando section did give the audience enough time to tell the soon-to-be-victims apart before they were skinned.

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