"What... the Hell... are you?"
Hells yes!
Mozart ain't got nothing on this. Beethoven? Amateur. Holst? Jupiter can't get triumphant enough. What's that ish you're bringing Elgar? Graduations for a hundred plus years you say? Piss off.
Not one of you fine gentleman had the balls to write a tome worthy enough for generations of man and his hood. Not one of you had the dignity to write a symphony that could pump testosterone into the veins of your brethren through the simple utterance of the movement.
No. None of the "masters" had the bravado, grandeur, nay, the genius to write, let alone conduct a "Symphony of Bad Ass". That was until 1987 when John McTiernan stepped up to the plate.
The opus only needed one word. Just one. That word?
Predator.
"What's the matter? The CIA got you pushing too many pencils?"
At this moment, if you are not currently chubbing, I will ask you to cease reading this blog immediately. For the rest of us, proceed.
The film Predator is indeed a wonderful achievement. It's a film who's virtues go beyond mere poetry, but into the very fabric of string theory itself!
When a film begins with a free-standing, no holds barred arm wrestling match between Carl Weathers and Arnold Schwarzenegger, you know it's time to get the tissues ready.
There isn't a day that goes by where I secretly wish that I could just come up to an old friend and do a free-standing throw down. What's too true is that I'm probably not the only one who feels this way even in my own neighborhood.
Awesome Movie. So-So poster.
Predator gives us cinematic perfection. Plain and simple.
You want gunfights? You got it. You want aliens? Got that too. Nudity? Who needs it when you've got bodybuilders, wrestlers, ex-porn stars, comedians, and amazing 'taches vying for your attention. One liners? This film has more one liners rolled into it than the entire Bond franchise.
"We hit nothing!"
The film's premise itself is pretty simple. A top secret military operation gets fuh'd up in the Central American jungle. Cue top notch invitation to a bad ass, members only, mercenary unit led by Arnold. Go in, fix the operation, kill some guerillas, job well done.
That is until a friggin' alien with natty dreads and pinchers for a mouth starts skinnin' your members only squad up in the jungle! What's he doing with the men? Oh, you know, only collecting their friggin' heads for friggin' ornaments or some crazy-ass shiz like that! He's big, he's scary, he carries mini-nukes as a kamikaze device.
Point is, the premise just dropped off the hook, and you better buckle up, because we're not in Kansas anymore Cinderella!
Carl Weathers. You can be my wingman anytime.
I mentioned the film had one liners. Here's a spattering of what is on hand. Their words, not mine. I can only hope to one day be so clever.
"Son of a bitch is dug in like an Alabama tick."
"Stick around." (Said whilst Arnie chucks a machete into a guy, who subsequently gets jammed into a wooden post.)
"If it bleeds, we can kill it."
"Bleed, bastard."
"Dillon. You son of a bitch." (I use this at least once a month. Seriously.)
"Knock- knock!"
"Payback time."
"This place makes Cambodia look like Kansas."
We could go on... obviously.
"Anytime"
The characters in this film are all memorable, all equally awesome. Let's highlight a few of them. Above, you've got Mac. Dude shaves without cream. Yeah, Mac shaves with a cheap Bic razor and no cream. He doesn't have much use for words, but homeslice will find you and cut you down with that Bic razor.
Respect Mac. He's been places. He's seen things. He even stabs a boar about halfway through the film roughly a dozen times.
"I ain't got time to bleed."
Then we've got Blain. You thought Arnold was a one-liner wrecking crew, well you've obviously never seen Jesse Ventura in an action film.
Jesse Ventura, the first of the film's leads to become a governor. Former wrestler, and all around bad ass. Dude didn't have much hair, but he had a 'tache that all 14 year old boys aspire to.
His character Blain gets a hole blown into him by the Predator about the size of David Bowie's crotch, but that still doesn't make him any less a man. He chews tobacco with a boyish glee. He spews anti-gay slurs. He doesn't have time to bleed.
Oh, and did I mention he carries a mini-gun named "Ol' Painless"? Next.
"I wouldn't wish that on a broke-dick dog."
Billy. The Native American savant. Honestly, I'm not sure this film would have achieved such incredible feats if not for this character. You thought Mac was quiet... Billy is the king of quiet.
Billy was actually played by Sonny Landham, who went on to run for the governor of Tennessee. He lost, but perhaps what he was more famous for was his run as a porn star in the 70's. Yeah, I told you this film had porn stars in it, and I didn't lie.
Billy pretty much does a lot of looking around in this movie, scoping out the spooks. But you know that everyone is pretty much f'd when this exchange goes down:
"I'm scared Poncho."
"Bullshit. You ain't afraid of no man."
"There's something out there waiting for us, and it ain't no man. We're all going to die."
At that moment, Alan Silvestre's amazing score blows us away.
And then we all just peed a little.
The gangs all here. Just pop in that DVD.
I honestly don't know how the film can get anymore perfect, and then everyone starts dying, and it you get to the point where you wonder when nirvana is just going to come for you and take you away from this illusion we all live in.
Perhaps one of the greatest scenes in the history of cinema, and certainly the best gun toting scene in cinematic history, takes place after Blaine gets porked.
Mac sees his fallen comrade and rushes to pick up the mini-gun just in time to see the Predator flash his eyes at him. In a hysterical rage, Mac starts to unload the gun into the jungle, and the rest of the crew bring their heavy metal into the fray as well. They unload everything they've got into the jungle, tearing it apart.
They miss. Point, Predator.
What you are about to witness will make look upon your progeny who sit around your death bed... and smile.
There then comes a point in the film where the mercenaries decide to take a stand against whatever it is that's chasing them. So they decide to build traps. Traps from the jungle.
Yeah! These guys are so bad ass, that they can use Mother Earth to not only trap, but kill aliens. So this film goes beyond an action extravaganza, but into an environmentalist's wet dream. Think about... Mother figgin' Earth is battling an extraterrestrial to the death!
Somebody call Al Gore and tell him I've got some popcorn, the lights turned off, and Predator on the tube in blu-ray. But if he brings Bono, tell him the parties over.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Of course, Mother Earth doesn't last long, because the traps turn out to be kind of crap. Which really pisses off the alien, and everyone is jail bait.
Dillon (Carl Weathers) and Mac go chasing after him. Mistake.
Mac falls for the oldest trick in the book, and ends up with a hole in his skull. Which is naturally beamed to us in real grizzly detail with a fantastic over the shoulder shot. Screen goes red, Mac is dead.
Then Dillon, who's been a bit of a pain in the ass the whole film, wises up and decides to go mano-e-mano with the alien. Mistake #2. Dillon ends up getting his arm shot off, and then everything goes into slo-mo as he tries to reach his gun but can't get it off in time as the alien porks him with his three bladed fist.
Dillon's screams can be heard throughout the whole jungle.
Arnold looks scared, and starts to run.
"Git to da choppa!"
Eventually, the alien catches up to the crew, but the noble Indian, Billy, decides it's his turn to die.
This leads to a truly epic confrontation on a giant log. Yeah, you heard me right. A giant log over a big gaping river. Billy rips off his shirt. He drops his guns. He pulls out a giant machete. Tears the medicine bag off his neck, and holds it tight.
Then he cuts a giant gash on his chest with the machete, holds it up, and stares like a wild man into the jungle.
Does Billy win? Hell no!
Billy gets his head stuck on a trophy pike too.
This is what I'm talking about. Beethoven would have pulled off the throttle. Mozart would have gotten silly. Not in 1987. Heroes die. Especially the minorities.
"Do it now! Kill me!"
Finally, when everybody is dead, Arnold has his showdown with the Predator. Yes, he's no longer an alien, since it's quite clear to us all that the alien is the namesake of the title.
Having some time to prep for battle, Arnold gets all Boy Scout of America on us over the span of about three hours. During this span, Arnie (Dutch btw), creates an inventory of I kid you nots. They include the following:
Two explosive arrows made from leaves. A bow made from branches. A couple of spears made from rocks and branches. A giant tree trunk used as a booby trap. Knives made of sharpened sticks. His bare hands. Camo made from mud. Torches. Bonfires. Agility.
What's the Predator up to? Oh, you know he's already tricked out, so he's just polishing his trophy skulls. Skulls that he got by ripping out the friggin' spines of his kills with his bare freaking claws!
Now, I won't dare spoil the showdown for you. This is something you'll have to experience yourself.
Only then, will the symphony be complete, and you too will be transported into the nexus of awesome. Nor will you be able to argue with about the film which put a governor into Minnesota, California, and very nearly Tennessee. That's pedigree.
Predator. A masterpiece. A triumph. A metaphor.
A symphony of Bad Ass.
Fun Fact: My father actually was in Mexico, where Predator was filmed, while the film was being made. While staying at the same hotel as the cast and crew, my dad ended up playing Carl Weathers in tennis. My dad kicked Carl Weathers' ass. Despite this, they had a long chat, and Carl Weathers said the following about the film, "This is a good one."
Too true, Carl. Too true.
