Back to the testosterone. A bunch of really big guys (whose only jokes are about vaginas) in the jungle battling a really big beast. All lines are of course written and delivered without a single drop of oestrogen. Where else could you get away with this dialogue:
Poncho: You're bleeding man. You're hit!
Blain: I ain't got time to bleed.
Perhaps the finest macho-retort in film-history. So audaciously and hilariously ridiculous, yet so fitting the mood, that it simply works wonders. With a cast named Dutch (very close to Butch), Blain, Poncho, Mac, Billy and Dillon there really is no room for silly-boys (nor girls for that matter). There are no martial arts, no spinning kicks, just savage brutality and strength with some rudimentary military engineering (also very macho) to boot.
The acting is, naturally, bloody awful, and made worse by the fact that they seem to want Arnie to be the best actor on show. Most of the men have so few lines that it doesn't really matter, but Bill Duke is unfortunate enough to be the one to demonstrate the fear and panic being hunted by an unknown beast in the jungle can lead to. Thus he has to act every once in a while. To devastating effect.
The reason "Predator" was a success was not primarily because of it's record-shattering levels of testosterone but mainly because it had a good concept and lots of suspense and action. Predator as a creature is a great idea, and his introduction not at all shoddy, as they gradually introduce first his presence, then his intent and later his form. His gadgets are cool, as is his appearance and he is a very big hunter, perfectly fitted against our big men. The heat-camera is also a very clever idea to give an insight as well as add some extra tension.
If you can get a girl to watch this with you for a different reason than drooling at big men, it is true love. But you'll always have mates to watch it with. Or dump if they can't snicker at what is probably the most macho film ever made
7/10
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