by Molly Mahan Predator: 25 Years With No Time to Bleed

Last week, our beloved Saint Mort asked me how I felt about the movie Predator. Not knowing the intention of the question, I responded with, “It’s the feel good movie of the century!” Because of that response, I am now writing this article. So, you best read it and like it, ’cause doing so will make you a god-damned sexual Tyrannosaurus, just like me.:

This Tuesday, June 12, 2012, Predator, the original film starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, Carl Weathers, and Jesse Venture, turns 25 years old! That’s right, the movie that stars two former governors, has now reached the age at which it can legally run for public office. Let that settle in for a moment. Also, if you haven’t watched the movie before, stop reading and do so. Now. After experiencing its 104 minutes of gloriousness, return to this page. I can wait.

You’re back? Great! Let’s get down to this.

Although I wasn’t yet alive when the film was original released (I turned 24 on Friday), and to be completely honest, I don’t believe I saw the movie in its entirety until I was 9 or so (and as my brother reminded me this morning, I still have yet to see the first sequel, Predator 2, but from my understanding I am better off), it is one of my favorite movies. Additionally, I have made certain to watch it several times this week, to capture the spirit of the film in this write up–and I will let you know that my bond with the species known as Predators goes back long before then and continues now. So while I may only be able to reflect on the film proper for 15 years, my relationship with the franchise goes back almost to as far as its own history does. Take a walk with me down memory lane …

Who’s the ugly motherfucker? Is it you? Yes it is! Coochiecoochiepleasedon’thurtme

When talking about Predator, you almost always think of Alien in the subsequent thought. Although the two universes were initially created independent of each other (with Alien having almost a 10 year prior history), they are now intertwined. In my experience, however, they were always synonymous with each other (and it wasn’t until I finally re-watched Alien about eight years ago that I realized this wasn’t always the case) and I had always preferred Predator, even though it was my understanding more people prefer the Alien franchise. Am I just being contrarian or is there more to it?

I have always been an action movie person, with little-to-no tolerance for horror films. However, while Alien may be a horror film in the purest sense, the subsequent films in the franchise are heavily geared towards action, so to base it on that alone would be wrong. And while it is true that I do enjoy preposterous amounts of testosterone, to deny Ripley her badassery would be a sin I dare not commit. So what is it about Predator that earns its place as first in my heart? For that answer, we will have to go back to when I was a wee tyke and did not yet know what the hell a Predator was.

But seriously: shaving without even a trace of stubble? That’s manly!

Now, I am the youngest in my family, and my brother who is 4 years my senior takes great pride in his role of how I was raised. He saw his role as my older brother to be tantamount to being my life teacher. Although some of the lessons were harder than others, he claimed it was all in an effort to make me “stronger”. A sentiment he proudly proclaimed to our mother when one time she watched him pin me down and force me to drink Tabasco sauce, which my young palate had not yet gained a liking to. My mouth burned for a week, but I love the stuff now. Fancy that! It’s funny how often teaching and training can look like terrorizing …

On the terrorizing side of things were his Alien action figures which he would often use to insight fear into my psyche. Among them was a Flying Queen Alien, with wing flapping powers. I remember car rides where we would be forced to sit next to each other and he would bat its wings at my face and I’d be confused, scared, and defenseless against this 8 inch piece of plastic and start crying. While definitely the weakest response to that situation ever, I was probably five or six and those toys were damned terrifying. I’m sure there was some underlying fear that if I did fight back and broke the toy, I’d be in a world of hurt that surpassed any psychological warfare at the time. Or maybe I was just a little bitch. Hard to say. Nevertheless, it was then, in my darkest moments of fear and panic, that a hero would present himself and rise against my evil sibling overlord and his Flying Queen Alien. And that would be still evil (but less so) sibling overlord taking out his Predator figure to kill and defeat the Alien Queen.

The bane of my 5-year-old existence. I am pathetic.

Even though the Predator would promptly turn his tri-lasers on me after defeating his xenomorph prey, the few moments where I was free of the flapping was a relief. Also, I rather have three red lights on me than repetitive plastic wings flapping in my face. I’m just saying.

It was in those moments a Predator fan was born. It would be a few more years until my parents saw I was old enough to watch the franchise, but in the fight of Aliens versus Predators, I had already picked me pony.

As I grew older, these memories were later repressed. Although I recalled the franchise fondly, it wasn’t one that I obsessed over. When a new Predator novel, comic, AvP film, etc., came out, I’d experience it, appreciate or complain about it, and then put it away somewhere to forget. None of the stories were quite able to get my juices going the way the original film had. It wasn’t until the release of Predators in 2010, when all the pre-adolescent memories came flooding back to me in waves. I’m not implying that the Predators movie was great, but it did resemble the original enough to bring me back to the franchise.

By which I mean it had an ensemble cast, a jungle, and some predators

Watching Predator now feels just as good as it did when it first came out, if not better. Action movies today seem to either be too serious or too tongue in cheek. Pithy one liners like, “Stick around” after nailing a bad guy through the heart with a machete, just aren’t said with the same amount of smugness as they were when Schwarzenegger quipped them 25 years ago. Actors and screenwriters today either try to pass them off as ironic, or ignore them all together. That said, even in this movie there are characters that look at others for their absurdly awesome one liners. When Jesse Venture’s character Blain famously states that he “ain’t got time to bleed,” after Richard Chaves‘s character informs him that he is, in fact, bleeding, Chaves responds to him the same way the audience does: “Oh, okay,” with a hint of awe and fear in his eyes. (I do want to point out that when Blain is later found dead, he isn’t bleeding–all his wounds are cauterized) While admitably absurd, the way Ventura and Schwarzenegger both state their lines with such matter-of-factness is something lost on this generation of action stars.

The 80’s definition of a man. By why need it be relegated to one decade? Why not now?

Granted, calling a group of special force operatives, “A bunch of slack jawed faggots” because they have no interest in chewing tobacco probably wouldn’t go over well at all today. Even if said ironically.

Speaking of horrible epithets towards a person’s sexuality (hell of a segue, right?), has no one else picked up on the homoerotic undertones on this movie? Ignoring for a moment that the Predator’s mouth itself looks like a giant vagina dentata, the testosterone pissing contests depicted throughout the 104 minutes of film are just ridiculous.

Seriously though, it does.

From the mid-air arm wrestling match between Dutch and Dillon, which starts on a shot of them shaking hands, biceps completely flexed, that is held up to a count of at least two Mississippi; to Blain constantly holding his massive gatling style minigun at hip level to look like an extension of his dong. Then there are the rather subtle shots of snakes doing nothing but being phallic symbols, to the subtext heavy scene of Mac telling the moon he will carve Blain’s name into the Predator once he kills him. The way he sells that monologue and angsts over Blain’s demise and saying “he was [his] … friend” leads one to question the true nature of their relationship, in a pre-Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell military. I’d like to see how it would have been handled today, when one could be out and still join the melee to destroy an extra terrestrial enemy.

Oh, and let’s not forget to mention, that the Predator vagina monster is defeated when he is squashed by a giant log. Phallic imagery ahoy!

They’re not even shooting at anything here. I’m serious.

Perhaps, I am just looking too deeply into an action movie that isn’t supposed to be taken all that seriously. But where’s the fun in that? I have heard it suggested that it may be a satire on action films, with the goofy ending credits giving some credence to that hypothesis. Yet, if that’s the case, I don’t think Arnold is in on the joke as I honestly believe it showcases some of his greatest acting ability, and is without a doubt his most bad ass here. While Terminator is my favorite Ahnuld led franchise, I must admit that his golden skinned Adonis, caked in mud to mask his heat signature, known as Dutch wins me over in ways the T-800 cannot (I can only hope the machine will one day learn to understand this, if not actually sympathize). From smug to betrayed, to confusion to fear, then back to smug again. He shows a full range of emotion that I did not know Austrians–let alone politicians–were actually capable of.

Arnold Schwarzenegger: Tree Hugger For Life … literally

There is so much more to say about this movie and how much I love it and why, but I think we’ve covered enough bases if not used enough words. So I’ll leave you here: no matter what the movie is supposed to be, I am sure we can all agree that it is a great film and will stand a longer test of time than a mere quarter of a century. Additionally, it is true what they say: that if it bleeds we can kill, luckily we can all rest assured that this bad boy ain’t got time to bleed.

And now behold… “Predator: The Musical“!