Predator (1987)

Half of Predator is an action-figure commercial: big guys, big guns, and a handshake so sweaty it turns into an arm-wrestling match. Nobody in this squad has a line that isn’t a flex. Then the jungle starts looking back, and John McTiernan turns a rescue mission into a slasher movie where the monster is nearly invisible and the heavily armed heroes are suddenly useless. Bill Duke slowly coming apart is the creepiest performance in the film. The alien’s heat-vision shots are pure 1987 and still work. Arnold Schwarzenegger ends up covered in mud, building traps like the angriest craft fair in history. Critics stayed lukewarm at 65% on Rotten Tomatoes, while IMDb voters gave it a 7.8, and I’m with the voters. It made $98.3 million worldwide. A 7.6 because the dialogue is cardboard and the back half is sweaty, primal perfection. $236 says you hear a twig snap on your next hike and decide that’s far enough for today.

What works: The invisible-hunter idea, the sweaty jungle tension, and a final showdown that’s all mud, traps and nerve.

What doesn’t: The first half is all macho one-liners and flat characters, and most of the squad is just waiting to vanish.

Who it’s for: Action fans who like their heroes huge, their villains alien and their jungles very, very quiet.