Tag Archives: theme

Predator (1987): Like Long Tall Sally… It’s Built Sweet

This is one of the most accessible and enjoyable story structure breakdowns I’ve ever seen, and his nickname for Shane Black made me laugh out loud! Enjoy!

The Predator Review: They Were Shooting In All Directions… and Hit Nothing

(Spoiler-free)

There’s no need to go over the amount of anticipation that comes with this one, or the fact that comparisons to the first one are unavoidable. Let’s just get into whether it delivers or not…

Like the original, it opens with a Predator ship entering Earth’s orbit and delivering a creature to the surface. But this time, instead of just a quick shot to set up the premise that we’re dealing with an alien, it’s a more convoluted space chase that ends up being a significant setup for a later reveal. In this intro sequence, we get a lot of stuff happening, information thrown at us that we should store for later, and nothing too engaging in any of it. I’m sorry to say, this is an apt microcosm of the entire movie.

We’re soon introduced to protagonist McKenna (Boyd Holbrook), an Army Ranger sniper who is mid-op with his team, when they get attacked by the recently arrived Predator and we’re given another rushed and crammed sequence in which they essentially try to do the first movie in about two minutes or less. McKenna’s team gets wiped out, which he lets us know he’s upset about in a few lines of dialog, but we didn’t get to know them at all, so who cares?

This necessitates McKenna being brought to a secret government lab full of scientists and mercenaries who have been studying the Predators for years, want to maintain their secrecy, and are wondering why the visits are rising in frequency. He is transferred there with a group of combat-hardened misfit military prisoners that will become his new team, and this is where the wisecracks really start flying, the action set pieces start popping off, and one of the greatest flaws of the movie becomes glaringly obvious….

It’s packed with misfires. The humor doesn’t land, the spectacle doesn’t excite, and the characters don’t draw us in. What’s worse is that it’s made blatantly obvious what we’re supposed to be feeling and when, particularly in a few moments that are intended to be especially dramatic, but it just isn’t happening. Like the acquaintance constantly uttering bad jokes and leaving pauses where you’re expected to laugh, but it just isn’t in you.

The 1987 masterpiece got us attached to seven characters effortlessly in a short helicopter ride, with almost no talking among them. Here we’re introduced by a quick exchange of quips and a bit of clunky exposition, which is usually the kind of setup given to expendable fodder, but in this case we’re actually expected to care what happens to them without any proper emotional foundation.

We have McKenna. He’s tough, and everything he does and says reminds you of that. His kid is part of the story (who admittedly manages not to not be too annoying). He’s a genius, and everything he does and says reminds you of that. Moonlight’s Trevante Rhodes is McKenna’s instant best buddy, who has his back, and everything he does and says reminds you of that. Thomas Jane (is wasted) as the crazy guy, and everything he does and says reminds you of that. See a pattern emerging here?

So then we’re onto the main conflict, which involves a Super Predator, because the regular one isn’t formidable enough, more one-liners, explosions, some disturbingly odd-looking CGI, awkward shots (the flat-angle medium shot used to introduce Olivia Munn, the hot, tough lady scientist, is laugh-out-loud-worthy), a lot of plot-convenient occurrences, choices and actions without clear motivations (from humans and extraterrestrials alike), and it all goes by at such breakneck speed that is easily outpaces the audience’s interest.

In the end, we’re left with a wholly unsatisfying mess of a movie, and they also hit us over the head with an asinine politically-charged theme to add insult to injury. However, a few witty digs inspire some chuckles (especially from Keegan-Michael Key), and some actions scenes rise to the level of “that was kinda cool, I guess,” but that’s about as good as it gets here. It’s not a pleasant things to report, but my bleak predictions from the trailer came true, and then some. This does more (or less) than not live up to the hype. It’s likely to disappoint committed fans and newcomers alike.

Don’t Cross the Themes!

There’s no point in writing if you have nothing to say. (It sounds self-evident, but a quick glance around at what’s being produced these days reveals that this mantra doesn’t stop a lot of aimless schlock from slipping through the cracks. Anyway, pre-success bitterness aside, let’s get into this…)

It’s all about the theme. What do you, as a writer, have to say to the rest of us about what we’re doing wrong (or right, but usually wrong)? Perhaps focusing on this aspect of the craft, rather than “ya know what would make a really cool movie?!…”is the mark of a mature writer. Maybe the ideal balance is “I believe I have a new take on this or that idea, and ya know what would be a really cool way to state it?!…”

There’s a lot of debate about where theme should rightfully come from. Is it the proper starting point of the whole process, or is it more creatively organic to just start vomiting narrative chunks and let the theme naturally unfold and present itself when everyone, especially the writer, least expects it? We all know the correct answer here, right? Who cares? The all-time greats are all over the map on this one, so there could never be a definitive key to how and why the theme(s) should emerge. I think the usefulness of this debate lies in the mind of the individual writer, as an introspective exercise.

But how about this…

As I’m rewriting and contemplating what comes out, I’m coming across numerous threads that point to multiple themes, on varying levels of complexity and consequentialism. This is bound to happen to some degree, but if I remain a little hazy as to whether my story is about my protagonist’s need to grow up and become self-reliant, the obligation we all have to fight an evil despotic force rather than wallow in apathy, or the idea that risking one’s life for someone they love is not a sacrifice at all, then is this an indicator of a confused and convoluted story in desperate need of being pared down?

Countless classic stories have multiple intertwined themes, but is it more than a new writer can chew? Is the thematic volume greater than the scope of my script? Is the effectiveness of one of my underlying statements undermined by interference from the others?

If all the themes are to stay in, how are they to be managed? I have some semi-educated guesses about this one:

  • There’s seems to be a natural hierarchy that’s conducive to their harmonious execution, with one over-arching theme that the others should serve in some way, or at least be subordinate to.
  • Multiple themes seem to work better when distributed over the story, residing within the choices and actions of different characters in separate story threads.
  • It feels ill-conceived to have a theme pop up once, never to be seen or heard from again. Each one should be interlaced through a substantial segment of the plot.
  • And what seems most important is that they compliment each other philosophically, so I shouldn’t cram “no man is an island” in the same yarn as “you can only rely on yourself,” even though they could each work quite well on their own.

Those were easy enough to write, but I’m still working on developing the sense to know if I’m following them. Also still struggling with this question: Is it possible to have “too much theme” and become preachy?

So what do you think? How do you manage the themes in your writing, and how many is too many? Let us know below!