**This article originally ran on the horror blog Death Ensemble as an induction of The Predator into the site’s “Hell of Fame.” It is reposted here, along with some postscript to discuss Shane Black’s “The Predator” in the context of what it brings to the creature.**
The name Kevin Peter Hall is not one that many people know, but those that know his name no doubt think of it with great affection. He only starred in a handful of movies, but was responsible for two iconic makeup creations in the 1980s— his goofy bigfoot in the delightful “Harry and the Hendersons” and the dreadlocked hunter alien of John McTiernan’s “Predator”. It’s the latter that has the greatest personal significance for me, as the creature Arnold Schwarzenegger once called, “one ugly motherfucker” (well, his character in McTiernan’s character did, at least), has been an indelible part of my movie landscape since I first saw the film on HBO at age 10 after my cousin and best friend both sung its praises, naturally meaning, I had to check this out for myself. The physicality of Hall’s performance as the Predator in both this, as well as the ridiculously crazy 1990 sequel, convinces you that the action stars up against it in those first two films— Arnold, Jesse Ventura, Carl Weathers and Danny Glover— have a formidable opponent to go mano-a-mano with on-screen, but it’s what Hall is wearing that really brings the Predator to life.
In a decade filled with absurd movie trivia, the idea that Jean-Claude Van Damme was the original choice to play the Predator in McTiernan’s film is bizarre. Yes, if the alien costume had been easier to move around in, a more martial arts-oriented performance as an alien might have made the prospect of the more diminutive Van Damme going up against the hulking Schwarzenegger a bit less absurd; that said, it’s a blessing that not only was Van Damme constantly complaining about wearing the suit, but also that the original design resembled a low-rent Alien knock-off, because it resulted in Van Damme being fired, the much larger Hall being cast, and Arnold getting the producers to call in the great Stan Winston, who had created the makeup on James Cameron’s “The Terminator” to redesign the alien, resulting in one of the most iconic creatures of not just the 1980s, but in movie history. Like the alien it shared the screen with in two dreadful outings, the Predator is a movie monster to inhabit your nightmares.
Last year, I came up with a list in celebration of my upcoming 40th birthday of the 40 films that helped shape my first four decades, and near the end of that list, I had a tough call to make between two key early genre movies that were up for the list. The choice was between Sean S. Cunningham’s “Friday the 13th” and McTiernan’s “Predator.” Both were early— some might say too early— run-ins with violent genre films that left huge impressions on me when I first saw them. I eventually chose “Predator,” partially because I do feel it’s the better film (and has been one I haven’t shied away from revisiting over the years, like I did for a time with the “Friday” films), but also because the Predator is, truly, my favorite movie monster of all-time. The dreadlocks for hair. The helmet it wears. The shoulder cannon, and the triangle aiming system. The Wolverine-esque blades. The tinted vision where it looks for heat signatures. The way that it camouflages itself. That insect-like mouth when the helmet comes off. And the vocal processor that allows it to mimic speech, and lure its prey. All of that, and the fact that it goes 15 rounds with Arnold in prime fighting shape, makes Winston’s creation, through Hall’s performance, come alive in a way that really, none of the other slashers do for me (Freddy Krueger is probably the closest.)
Throughout the follow-ups, we see the mythos of the alien expand. We see that it’s part of a species who thrives on the hunt, that keeps trophies, and has a hierarchy, as well as rivalries, as were developed in comic books and video games. We see that not only are these creatures filled with brute strength, but also intelligent and capable of surprising people with a big move at the end. We see that they have a code of the hunt- no pregnant women or children, and no unarmed people- and will adapt to different situations, even if those choices seem ridiculous. The follow-ups to McTiernan’s classic— Stephen Hopkins’s “Predator 2” in 1990, and Nimrod Antal’s “Predators” in 2010— may not have the same originality or intensity of that first film, but a lot of what has expanded into the larger “Predator” mythology came from the hunter being caught in a gangland warzone in 1997 Los Angeles, and the pack of three that hunt the likes of mercenaries and serial killers on a distant planet in the Robert Rodriguez-produced “Predators.” And I’m not going to lie; both of those follow-up have a crazy energy and tone that are hard not to succumb to, even if it means hearing the predator actually say the word, “motherfucker,” or even give Adrien Brody’s Royce a glimpse on where he is in the galaxy. Still, nothing quite as savage as when one blew up a nuclear device at the end of the original film, and Arnold’s Dutch actually survived. Hopefully, Hawkins from the original film— played by Shane Black— will codify some rules a bit more when “The Predator” comes out September 14.
If there is one more distinctive thing that helps turn the Predator into an icon, it is the music. Originally written by Alan Silvestri, the percussion-heavy theme sets up the orchestral flourishes in the larger setting Silvestri has in mind as he plays with sounds to create a soundtrack every bit as recognizable to the franchise, and character, as anything Stan Winston and later makeup artists have in store for us. Like Carpenter’s score for “Halloween” and Manfredini’s for “Friday the 13th,” we understand what type of film we’re seeing, and what type of villain we will get, the second the first notes are played, and when they go with the images of Mac’s surprise attack being foiled or a trap being laid for the prisoners on a far-away planet, the result is memorable and powerful cinema, and something we will not soon forget.
I’ve focused my time in breaking down the Predator itself rather than the movies, and that’s because I wanted to highlight the monster rather than the people it went up against. But every good movie slasher has its rival– Jason with Tommy Jarvis through a wild three-film arc, Freddy with Nancy, Michael Myers with Laurie Strode, and the Alien with Ripley– and while he only featured in the first one, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Dutch has to be the Predator’s. By the time they face off in one of my favorite sequences in film history, the Predator has taken out every one of Dutch’s team, including Jesse Ventura’s sexual tyrannosaur Blaine, Bill Duke’s Mac, and Carl Weathers’ Dillon. Arnold has his work cut out for him by the end, but he’s come to discover weaknesses in the Predator’s game, and while it feels ridiculous that a thin layer of mud could possibly cloak him from the Predator’s thermal vision, it gives him a chance that he uses to his full advantage even after his rouse is discovered, and the Predator has him cornered. The way the sequences builds and is staged brings everything great about the movie, and the monster at the center of it, to the forefront, so that as soon as that mask comes off, we’re fully shaken by the creation Stan Winston and Kevin Peter Hall have brought to life, and feel like– for one of the few times in his career, the Governator truly met his match on the big screen.
Watching Shane Black’s “The Predator” last week makes that last paragraph an interesting way to end this essay pre-viewing, because Black and his co-writer Fred Dekker seem to be setting up a multi-film protagonist to go against the Predator in Quill McKenna, even though it’s his son, Rory, who holds a major part of the storyline. Black and Dekker’s addition to the Predator mythology comes from the way they can absorb traits of other species, which this film explains in an interesting way, and executes by putting some interesting wrinkles into what the franchise has typically viewed as evolutionary “strength.” Though the film has not performed well, thus far, I’m curious to see if it’s enough that maybe, we might be able to see some of the ideas Black and Dekker set forth with here play out in another film in this strange, surreal franchise.
My original essay, as well as more great writing on horror cinema, can be found at Death Ensemble. I hope you enjoy!
Viva La Resistance!
Brian Skutle
www.sonic-cinema.com
