It’s Time To Admit ‘Alien Vs. Predator’ Is Actually Good
In our increasingly stale moviegoing landscape, 'Alien Vs. Predator' is a raucous breath of fresh air.
The year was 2004, and the Alien franchise was a mess.
Alien 3, directed by David Fincher, had been released to so-so reviews and middling box office receipts 12 years earlier. In the intervening years, 20th Century Fox had tried to get another sequel off the ground to little avail — none of the pitches seemed right.
Desperate, the studio turned to the director of Aliens, James Cameron, and tried to lure him back to the franchise that had made his name. Reticent to put all their eggs in one basket, studio heads also began brainstorming ideas for a film that would combine two of their biggest sci-fi properties — Alien and Predator.
But when Cameron found out about the plans for the cross-over, he immediately pulled out of the Alien sequel, worried that Fox would tarnish the brand of the franchise by “milking” its popularity past the point of good taste. Suddenly, Alien Vs. Predator went from being a side-project to the newest canon instalment of one of the best known franchises in modern cinema history.
Under such pressure, the film was only ever going to be seen as a disappointment. And indeed, when it was released, critics mostly sniffed at it. No matter that it more than doubled its budget, and was reasonably well received by fans — according to the establishment, it was little more than a murky cash-grab, exactly as Cameron had worried.
And yet time has been kind to Alien Vs. Predator in the years since its release. In an age of cookie-cutter sequels, the film feels genuinely ground-breaking in its willingness to follow its stranger inclinations to their natural endpoint. Stuffed with conspiracy theories, raucous set-pieces, and a surprising amount of heart, Alien Vs. Predator is that rare Hollywood object: a bizarro work of real vision.
Paul W.S. Anderson Understands Aliens
Key to Alien Vs. Predator‘s success is the willingness of its director, Paul W.S. Anderson, to embrace camp. For years, Anderson has been treated as something of a comedic punchline, known for his video game adaptations and his disdain for things like plot and character motivation. But, like the cross-over sci-fi spectacle that he directed, Anderson is a much more talented filmmaker than his reputation suggests.
He is alive, in the words of Susan Sontag, to the myriad of ways cinema can be taken; he understands artificiality, and he understands the demands of his audience. In Alien Vs. Predator, his tongue is firmly planted in the side of his cheek — you can’t draw on ancient discredited conspiracy theories about UFOs building the pyramids and not know that you’re being a little ridiculous.
And ridiculousness is the name of the day when it comes to Alien Vs. Predator. Not even the titular aliens themselves escape zaniness; rather than menacing predators, they resemble souped-up cockroaches, hiding in the dark and moving in First Person Shooter-style waves.
Such a camp approach was new for the franchise. Ridley Scott’s original is a deathly serious work of gothic extremity; even the bigger and pulpier sequel is gravely invested in its central familial unit.
By contrast, Anderson doesn’t take anything seriously. With breathless abandon, he redraws the Alien canon, writing a new backstory for the killing machines, and spurning mythos for gnarled action set-pieces. His is a process of humbling — with sardonic wit, Anderson reveals that the central fight between the two extra-terrestrial races of beasties is nothing but a middling game, like a test-run for bigger, more serious encounters.
The stakes of an Alien film have never as low as they are in Alien Vs. Predator. And that’s precisely the fun of the thing. Rather than tie himself up in knots of mythic backstories, Anderson shaves his film down to the showdown of the title. Nothing more. Nothing less.
And that showdown is fun. Anderson gets to it fast, blowing through character backstories like a man on a deadline, and setting up narrative pieces with only the briefest flashback. He knows what his audience wants to see, and he gives it to them, time and time over, shaking up a frothy cocktail of gore, martial arts-inspired clashes, and giant prosthetic xenomorphs. It’s not smart smart. It’s smart dumb — entertainment of the shlockiest sort carried off not just with precision but, most importantly, with glee.
There’ll Never Be A Film Like Alien Vs. Predator Again
These days, Alien Vs. Predator‘s chainsaw-like trimming down of ambition and mythos seems rarer than ever. We live in an age where sequels are expected to be both more serious than that which preceded them, and considerably bigger; we are all involved in a game of constant cinematic one-upmanship.
And that’s tiring. It’s a formula, and just like any formula, it rigidly shuts down possibilities for true experimentation. It’s impossible to imagine that a studio would make a film like Alien Vs. Predator these days; harder still to imagine that our movie-going public would accept it.
Alien Vs. Predator requires no homework. It’s not designed to set anything in particular up; its success is not to be measured against future possible sequels. It is its own furiously silly object; an intergalactic battle, carved out of soap.
Joseph Earp is a staff writer at Junkee and a Paul W.S. Anderson stan. He tweets @JosephOEarp.