It's like Sex and the Suburbs and 30 Rock all rolled into one…
To be completely honest, in the alien attacks people franchise, I’m more on Team Face Sucker than Team Predator. Alien and Aliens are two movies that completely and totally make me shit my pants where as movies like Halloween simply make me chuckle. As a fan of sci-fi slash horror hybrid flicks, I would often convince my parents to see such a film at 11pm on a weekend night. It’s sort of a tradition. We pick the best B-list movie we can find and then go see it, stuffing ourselves with diet coke and popcorn with extra butter. So we get to see sequels to The Exorcist and Alien Vs Predator.
Adrien Brody a few years ago used to be known for doing movies like Hollywoodland, The Piano and The Darjeeling Limited. We also forget he mailed it in for The Village and The Brothers Bloom. But what I think we can all agree upon is that the man is dead sexy. (Especially the nose. You know what they say about noses. The larger the nose… the larger the nose.) Joining Brody is Topher Grace channelling everything creepy about the kid in That 70’s Show, and Lawrence Fishburne who is still trying to work for forgiveness for those Matrix sequels. Walton Goggins, who played the eloquent Crowder boy on FX’s Justified rounds out the testosterone. Oh yeah and Rodriquez go to guy Danny Trejo and the emotive yet tough Alice Braga finish up the cast.
Yes, the movie is highly predictable, and yes, the plot is essentially hunted hunt the hunters. But if you don’t know that when you shell out your $10.75, then you are at the wrong movie. Predators offers what these sorts of movie do well – pulp writing, gunslinging adventures and guys in bad alien costumes who do a lot of growling. It’s a summer blockbuster; it’s not supposed to be smart and it’s not supposed to be witty. Jokes in this movie include Goggins talking about how he’s going to kill people and the Russian guy, who you never really get to know, telling the seemingly innocent but we all know better Grace to stay away from bad men. Any romantic scene involves Brody and Braga glaring at each other, knowing that if they weren’t being hunted by big ugly motherfuckers they would be tearing each other’s clothes off. And while in recent instillations of this franchise, the directors tried to give the Predators human inclinations – going so far as to have one respect and maybe even crush on a particularly adept at surviving the face suckers – our 2010 version portrays them as hunters, alien and vicious.
Yes, we know who is going to die and in what order. And the minute we see a field of tall grass, we know the guy from the Yakuza is going out Samurai-style. And we know that Brody is going to live. Because he’s the star, and stars don’t die.
But the real reason to see the movie isn’t Brody’s Batman impersonation. It’s because Adrien Brody for about two hours runs around the jungle without a shirt wielding an impossibly large gun. And he is hot while he does it. Give him an Academy Award. Please. Or get him to my apartment. The latter actually.