Alien V Predator
Alien 3D artwork by Benjamin Perry

I shouldn’t really waste my time writing a review for this film. After all, to write about something is to dignify it somehow, bestow it with some kind of cinematic significance. But sadly, it’s all I can do to expel the immense anger this movie fills me with.

Let me make it clear straight away, I thought this film sucked fucking ass, in the dirtiest manner imaginable. This film feltched from the hides of two of cinemas greatest science-fiction legacies, like some dirty, desperate gimp of a movie. It is so poor and scattershot it makes Paul W. S. Anderson’s first film seem positively ornate.

Mercifully, I only caught the second half of this film but saw enough to hate the Strause Brothers forever. These joint directors, are mostly known for their visual effects work for the likes of James Cameron and David Fincher, so it’s pretty alarming to see how withered their vision for directing is. The Strause Brothers or ‘The Brothers Strause’ as they like to present themselves, were given two of Hollywood’s most revered franchises, strung up like punch bags, to abuse and do whatever they liked with them, without an ounce of resistance from anyone, it seems. Now, they exist as the ring-masters of one of the world’s most cinematic desecrations ever.

I was genuinely shell-shocked by the end of the film. Were it not for the self-congratulatory music over the end credits, you’d hear the actual truth of the matter, and in this case, the truth sounds like the bottom of a McDonald’s paper cup; specifically, that scraping sound you get when you hose up remaining fizzy drink through a straw. With this film, the Strause Brothers sucked hard on the longest, narrowist pipe they could find. Were you to peer into the well of that paper cup, you’d see only the sad stains of a once promising sub-franchise. I can’t stress this enough ways. This movie is fucking wretched.

There are so many things wrong with this film it should be committed.

For starters, I have to ask why such complex and delicious science-fiction had to be bred with the teen-slasher genre? Why? Why does it have to be set on earth at all? Go back to space for fuck sake! If you want humans in your story, stage it in a big vessel full of marines and scientists and galactic colonists. Fuck, resurrect the wooden planet idea. That would have been much better than a fucking swimming pool full of good looking cunts flexing their tits and pecs. As for the “characters” in this film – they were by far, the largest ensemble of hateful sons o’ bitches I have ever had the misfortune of watching die on screen. The whole menace of Aliens and Predators surely resides in how much the audience roots for the prey. Think of the first Predator movie and how each character is defined. Look at how distinctive they all are. Even a bespeckled Shane Black is kinda missed when he gets wasted early on, if only for the fact that we know they’ll be no more pussy jokes. Incidentally, why didn’t the Predator ever mimic those gags at any point? I would love to have seen that; the shimmering spectre of the Predator creeping up behind Jesse Ventura and whispering “Geez, you got a big pussy. Geez, you got a big pussy.” It would have been brilliant. But I digress. Point is, all of the characters in that movie fucking rocked. Still do, in fact. All of ’em – big, mad bastards. Every line in that script is a bonafide bon mot for hokey machismo. You sure miss them when they die. I mean, they took a character’s death pretty seriously in that film. Take composer Alan Silvestri’s Ode to Fallen theme. Not long after Jesse Ventura gets his chest blown out, a big soppy motif creeps in and attaches itself mainly to the expressions of Bill Duke, lamenting the loss of his comrade and possible gay lover. Anyone else think these two soldiers were fucking each other? No? Just me? Come on, those two were definitely queer. Despite being a boring heterosexual, I can see the gay in everything. I’m like a hound for gay subtext. (See my short film ‘The Moustache’ for my philosophy on ‘Jaws‘).

Anyway, you get none of this in Alien Vs Predator: Requiem. Fucking nothing. Not even a whiff of gay. Quite frankly, I didn’t care for any of them. Not even the little crying girl, who watched her dad get savaged by a Xenomorph. And all he did prior to that was open the fucking curtains! Fuck him. I don’t care. There are no character arcs. How can an audience accept a petrified mother and fresh widow to boot, suddenly turning into a machine-gun-razzling-heroine in the space of five minutes? It takes a little more than stripping an actress down to a vest top to get to Ripley. In fact, there are no characters at all, only cannon fodder. Don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of fodder but at least give ’em a thing before they get killed – a lame pussy joke or something. Anything.

One of my major beefs with this film was its shameless tributes to the source material. It’s obvious the directors believe that trading off nostalgia will earn them some glory. But the fact of the matter is that they have simply pandered and plagiarised and disguised it as homage and post modernism. I imagine this pair of massive twats predicted they’d be sitting discreetly at the back of packed auditoriums pressing their knuckles together anytime the audience involuntary whoop and cheer whenever one of their second rate actors mangles a beloved line. Maybe there are one or two dumb bastards who will mistake these incidents as sly and clever winks and duly cheer, but for someone as smart as you, you’ll know that quoting “Get to chopper” at the last minute is lazy and desperate. It made me wince and cringe every time it happened. Hope glooped out of my heart in those clumsy, cheating moments. Quoting Arnie and Sigourney in this manner is effectively standing in the ray of acclaim for the original films and protracting it on to this piece o’ shit. It’s like this film knows it’s doomed, drowning in the river Styx of cinematic failure, clawing at the greatness of its masters, who want nothing to do with it.

And Christ, the hybrid thing at the end was just fucking stupid, wasn’t it? What was it? An alien with dreadlocks or a predator with a snout? I’ll tell you one thing, it was definitely a man in a rubber suit. Seriously, it looked like the original rejected concept from the 80s! There’s a reason why they modified the design back then. Because it looked shit!

The fact that the Strause Brothers executed every obvious choice and common idea tells me one or possibly all of three things; that they’re either very naïve, henpecked by the studio or worse, so arrogant with self belief that they thought that they were the men that could deliver something worthwhile out of such a horribly wrong script in the first place. Shame on you. For every mainstream film you make, you deprive a genuine genius from getting a break in that town.

How did this pair of douchebags get the job in the first place? That’s what I want to know? I want an inquest into this one day. Hang these hack fucks from the big ‘H’ of the Hollywood sign as a lesson to all. H for hack! Then maybe we can celebrate the notion that they were condemned to an eternal purgatory of making films about arithmetic.

It’s worth noting that these guys helped sink the Titanic for James Cameron. What does that tell you, eh? It tells you, quite succinctly, that The Brothers Strause can sink anything.

God, I’m shaking. I think I’ll leave it there. I’ve said enough. You’ve been warned, people. Don’t see this film – ever. Take it from me. Although now, I feel obliged to tell you that I really, really liked Alien3, so what do I know?