Before viewing “Alien vs. Predator,” one may experience acute
pains in the abdominal region. At first, these tremors might be
mistaken for anticipation of the chest-bursting, claws-and-jaws
action that is sure to follow. Don’t be fooled–that sinking
feeling is the precursor to the worst film released this year.
The seeds for this galactic grudge match were sown nearly 15
years ago, when Danny Glover found an Alien skull inside the
Predator’s ship in “Predator 2.” From those humble origins, “AVP”
developed a rabid fanbase, and the two movie monsters waged a
multi-front war in comic books, novels and videogames. If handled
even remotely competently, “AVP” should have clobbered the box
office.
Instead, the film is knocked out in the first round from a
devastating combination of horrible acting, hackneyed visuals and
one of the worst scripts since “Showgirls” last straddled the brass
pole. A cast of unknowns recycles every possible character
stereotype and travels to Antarctica, where a mysterious pyramid
has suddenly appeared 2,000 miles below the surface.
Lo and behold, the pyramid functions as a hazing site for a
fraternity of Predators. They drop their pledges off to kill the
ultimate prey, and if they return alive, they’re allowed to brand
themselves with a tribal symbol and can vote at meetings.
Unfortunately, the lowly Aliens need human bodies to incubate, so
some bait is needed.
So–Geeky Scientist, Tough-Guy Archeaologist, Rich Old Guy and
Emotionless Woman–provide just that. The research team gets
snuffed out within half an hour, via Alien chestbursters and
Predator laser cannons. Before the two species even tangle, we’ve
already reached the point of no return for this film’s salvation.
Aside from a few all-too-brief flashes of inspiration, the
Predator-Alien battles are worse than the last Tyson fight.
Despite a formidable body count, the worst butchery in “AVP”
lies in its editing. Studio pressure to release a PG-13 film
obliterated any chance of fans embracing a sleazy splatterfest. The
Predator, once the James Bond of the horror world–with his
space-age killing devices, now performs his headhunting off-screen.
Ditto for the torso-exploding Aliens–they prefer to stalk poorly
lit rooms and no longer spit acid, for fear of stretching the
make-up budget.
The human element is even worse. Instead of feeling sympathy for
these poor souls, you’re awaiting one of the monsters to put an end
to their appalling presence on screen. Granted, the script sucks,
but the level of groaner lines is staggering.
Director Paul W.S. Anderson’s name isn’t exactly synonymous with
quality–his r�sum� includes catastrophes like “Event
Horizon” and “Resident Evil”–but with “AVP” he’s reached a new low
for box-office bombs. Unlike last summer’s “Freddy vs. Jason,”
which actually delivered a quality monster mash, “AVP” is a slap in
the face to fans of both franchises.
Stripped of the Schwarzenegger-Weaver starpower that drove the
two franchises, “AVP” is reduced to a second-rate monster movie.
But the monsters of “AVP” are worlds apart from the ferocious
creatures that scared us silly on late-night cable TV. Without
their full-throttle gory calling cards, Aliens and Predators alike
have been de-fanged and de-clawed.
“Whoever wins, we lose.” A truer tagline has never been written.
I lost six dollars and two hours of my life watching this waste of
celluloid. Avoid at all costs.
