VHS Revival Revisits John McTiernan’s jungle-bound classic.
For many, he is probably most remembered for genre high point Die Hard, but a year earlier he gave us another action vehicle with a crowd-pleasing twist. A genre crossover which lured us into the safety of Hollywood’s most dependable biceps, Predator would plunge us into a jungle of stifling uncertainty, adopting the form of a stalk-and-slash horror and keeping us very much in the dark.
Ironically, the movie’s marquee attraction was initially considered for the role of John McClane, and although we can thank the stars they gave us a vulnerable Bruce Willis instead, Schwarzenegger was the industry’s biggest name at the time of Predator’s release, and it’s hard to imagine anyone else more befitting of the role.
By 1987, Arnie had evolved from a useless musclehead into one of the most charismatic stars in Hollywood. The Terminator had kicked things off — a movie which accentuated his naturally robotic mannerisms to devastating effect — but Predator was the movie that solidified his sci-fi status, as the ‘Austrian Oak’ became the money-spinning mouthpiece for a whole plethora of one-liners. I mean, who else could take a perfunctory line like ‘Get to the chopper!’ and transform it into one of the most iconic moments in genre history?
Poncho: You’re bleeding, man. You’re hit.
Blain: I ain’t got time to bleed.
Despite its second act curveball, the opening of Predator is action through and through. McTiernan directs events like a man who has swapped his camera for a rocket launcher, delivering the kind of blistering, hi-tech action that put most of his peers to shame. Initially, the movie received mixed reviews due to a paper-thin plot and weak characterization, but Dutch and his two-dimensional platoon are essential to the movie’s cult appeal, their all-too-familiar roles accentuating the mystery surrounding the movie’s true star – and I’m not talking about Schwarzenegger.
On the subject of mainstream muscle, Jean-Claude Van Damme was originally cast in the role of the Predator, the idea being that the creature would possess the kind of ninja agility befitting of a stealth assassin, but due to a musclebound cast strength was decided upon as the alien’s biggest attribute, and when you look at the movie’s main players it’s easy to see why.
Predator gives us a cast of All-American badassery reminiscent of the GI Joe action figure range. We have a tobacco-chewing ex-wrestler (Jesse Venture); a soldier of unnerving calm who shaves the sweat from his brow with a razor (Bill Duke); a colossal Native American in touch with the savagery of nature (Sonny Landham), and who can forget Rocky’s Carl Weathers as surreptitious CIA agent Dillon, whose glistening biceps result in one of the most homoerotic handshakes in all of cinema. Interestingly enough, the movie was first pitched as “Rocky meets Alien“after a discussion between writers Jim and John Thomas, who joked that Rocky would have to face an alien if a fifth movie were ever to materialise due to a lack of Earthly opponents ― the fact that this moment is reminiscent of Rocky III‘s ‘bromance’ ending is not as coincidental as perhaps presumed.
Asides from Shane Black‘s Hawkins – the screenwriter was cast solely to make uncredited script changes on the fly – America’s chosen few are a group of seemingly impermeable types of cartoonish indestructibility. Led by the dependable brawn of Schwarzenegger’s Dutch, they are battle-hardened and fearless, so schooled in the art of war that the threat of mere mortals offers no real consequence. So well-oiled is their first act siege that we are awed by their ability to overcome the most impossible of odds. The mystery surrounding the Predator may establish the movie’s knife-edge tension, but it is the dissolution of the platoon’s once implacable resolve that sustains it.
Still, this is a movie that lives and dies by its mystery, the very reason why a series of inevitable sequels and reboots have always failed to live up to their antecedent. Back in the computer effects infancy of the late ‘80s, our visual introduction to the character who would spawn an entire franchise was positively breathtaking. Stripped of his visual embellishments, the Predator is little more than a POV killer with the ominous brooding of a slasher antagonist, but in a pre-CGI climate the effects were a remarkable distraction from an already established formula.
Billy: I’m scared Poncho.
Poncho: Bullshit. You ain’t afraid of no man.
Billy: There’s something out there waiting for us, and it ain’t no man.
Of course, a simple twist doesn’t necessarily equate to a simple process. Effects maestros R/Greenberg Associates went to great lengths to establish the hunter’s various alien abilities. The creature’s capacity for invisibility was achieved by having an extra wear a bright red suit that was removed using chroma key techniques. This process would leave an invisible space that was later animated after the take was repeated without actors using a 30% wider lens ― the two combining to create a vague outline that brought the jungle to life. Less complex but equally creative effects saw the use of an inframetrics video scanner to achieve thermal vision after a failed experiment with infrared film, while the neon effect of the alien’s blood was accomplished by extracting the green liquid from glow sticks and mixing it with personal lubricant. Rotoscoped animation was also used to create the spark effects that saw the alien transition from invisible to visible as its stealth mechanism began to falter.
All of this combined to turn a multi-formulaic movie into an innovative spectacle, but it is the effectiveness of those formulas that would ultimately stand the test of time. If the first two acts gave us all-out-action and suped-up slasher tension, then the movie’s final act is the cowboys-at-dawn showdown we were all begging to see.
Two years earlier, Mark L. Lester gave us the indestructible John Matrix, a retired special-ops demigod who took on an entire army with a ludicrous lack of tactical expertise. With Dutch, McTiernan gives us a more industrious version of the same indestructible archetype, but his character is made human by an unknown entity of vastly superior strength and technology. By the movie’s end, it feels like you’ve been dragged through the trenches backwards, and that was certainly the case for Schwarzenegger and company.
Filmed in the unpredictable jungles of Mexico, the shoot was notoriously difficult. Most of the cast and crew suffered from diarrhea due to a lack of water purification, but worse problems came as a result of their unforgiving terrain. Unbearably low temperatures made filming of that final battle incredibly uncomfortable for all involved, as did the foul-smelling water and a plethora of parasitic bugs and leeches. But Arnie’s biggest challenge came in the form of the Predator’s costume, which made it impossible for actor Kevin Peter Hall to see. Not only did this result in painstaking retakes that required Hall to memorize his space, it led to a particularly arduous physical battle scarred with authenticity. What you see onscreen is far more real than you may have imagined.
Dutch: He came to get the body. He’s killing us one at a time.
Billy: Like a hunter.
Dutch: [looks up in awareness] He’s using the trees.
Quite the emotional journey, but one that translates to the audience in a way that makes it all worthwhile. Simply put, Predator is one of the defining movies of the 1980’s; perhaps second only to The Terminator as the career high of the decade’s most celebrated action star. But for once the movie’s true star is not the name on the marquee. That accolade belongs to one of cinema’s most memorable cosmetic creations.
It’s hard to recall a character as effectively presented as the original Predator. McTiernan exhibits the care and patience that goes into delivering the very best horror antagonists. Much like Ridley Scott’s Alien, we are given glimpses of an omnipotent presence, a chameleon as elusive in the light of the jungle as others are in the shadows of night. McTiernan teases with vague forms and impressions, but at some point you must deliver on a purely aesthetic level if you are to avoid unravelling all the good work that came before.
The Predator’s design did not happen overnight, and the original conception was scrapped midway through production for not being scary enough. Images of the design show a lanky, bug-eyed creature with the lithe structure of a feline ― a seemingly perfect costume for Van Damme. Arnie would turn to effects maestro Stan Winston, the man responsible for The Terminator’s iconic exoskeleton, Winston himself conferring with director James Cameron, who had always imagined creating a monster with mandibles.
The resulting design is iconic, but there are other aspects that make Predator such a winning attraction. The creature’s armour still looks fantastic today, a belt of trophy skulls only adding to its fearsome aura, while its high-pitched, yet guttural sounds are an alien upgrade on the heavily breathing stalk-and-slash killer that the movie borrows so effectively from.
For me, the Predator’s design is second only to H.R. Giger’s Xenomorph. It is mean and monstrous yet vaguely human ― both in its physical appearance and its moral code. Monsters like the Xenomorph are primal creatures with a remorseless appetite for destruction, but the Predator is a soldier at heart, a species who sees anyone with a weapon as fair game, while those who are unarmed remain untouched. In the end, the Predator finds an opponent who is worthy of his abilities, and as a final show of respect opts for a battle of wits fuelled by honour and propriety. It is only after this that we see the Predator for what it really is: a true warrior, and a creature as deserving of our fear as it is our admiration.
Cedric Smarts: Editor-in-Chief and Art Director
Science fiction author, horror enthusiast, scourge of plutocracy, shortlisted for the H. G. Wells Award, creator of vhsrevival.com
Likes: 80s poster art, Vangelis, classical liberalism, dystopian allegories, dissident political activism, Noam Chomsky, George Orwell, George Saunders, John Updike, Kurt Vonnegut