Director: James Cameron
Writers: James Cameron, Gale Anne Hurd, William Wisher
Photography: Adam Greenberg
Music: Brad Fiedel, Tryanglz
Editor: Mark Goldblatt
Cast: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Michael Biehn, Linda Hamilton, Paul Winfield, Lance Henriksen, Bill Paxton, Earl Boen, Bess Motta
It had been a long time since I’d seen a Terminator movie—and, full disclosure, I’ve only seen the first two (of six, not counting TV, video games, action figures, and other treatments)—so I wasn’t entirely sure what I would be getting into these 40 years later. As I recall, the first sequel, from 1991, was the better picture. And sure enough, this 1984 original puts an impossibly young Arnold Schwarzenegger into a thriller milieu that is at least 80% 1980s cheese. Even the projected dystopian future of 2029, a wrecked war zone with deadly purple rays and other high-tech war gadgetry going pew-pew-pew, seemed faintly rinky-dink. Meanwhile, in 1984, Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) and her big-hair best friend Ginger (Bess Motta) are grooving to walkmans and the relatively newfound portability of music. Can’t stop, won’t stop—which means they don’t always hear the dangers coming down. Let’s not even get into the rockin’ soundtrack by Tryanglz, whoever that is. Was 1984 the most ‘80s year of all? I know there’s a theory it was the best year all-time in pop music. Tryanglz is not evidence for it.
In spite of the many dated aspects, The Terminator remains relatively good entertainment (even if the sequel might be better). It has an intriguing science fiction / time travel premise, based on the oldest chestnut in the books, about going back in time to kill your grandfather. But that means—I couldn’t be alive—to kill him—he never died—so I was born, but— Don’t think about it too much because the paradoxes will make your brain hurt. Oh, wait, it’s a whole franchise later now, and the many zigs have profoundly zagged. The fact of the matter is that The Terminator is closer to Beverly Hills Cop and The French Connection, in terms of what it is, than to heady science fiction like Blade Runner or 2001. What it is is lots of gunplay, lots of car chases, and a light dusting of sci-fi. Action, baby. As a movie, The Terminator notably loves guns to the point of fetish. Everyone has different models of automatic weapons and shotguns, sawed-off and otherwise, with fancy laser attachments and such. Later there will be pipe bombs. Let the ordnance fly!
It had been a long time since I’d seen a Terminator movie—and, full disclosure, I’ve only seen the first two (of six, not counting TV, video games, action figures, and other treatments)—so I wasn’t entirely sure what I would be getting into these 40 years later. As I recall, the first sequel, from 1991, was the better picture. And sure enough, this 1984 original puts an impossibly young Arnold Schwarzenegger into a thriller milieu that is at least 80% 1980s cheese. Even the projected dystopian future of 2029, a wrecked war zone with deadly purple rays and other high-tech war gadgetry going pew-pew-pew, seemed faintly rinky-dink. Meanwhile, in 1984, Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) and her big-hair best friend Ginger (Bess Motta) are grooving to walkmans and the relatively newfound portability of music. Can’t stop, won’t stop—which means they don’t always hear the dangers coming down. Let’s not even get into the rockin’ soundtrack by Tryanglz, whoever that is. Was 1984 the most ‘80s year of all? I know there’s a theory it was the best year all-time in pop music. Tryanglz is not evidence for it.
In spite of the many dated aspects, The Terminator remains relatively good entertainment (even if the sequel might be better). It has an intriguing science fiction / time travel premise, based on the oldest chestnut in the books, about going back in time to kill your grandfather. But that means—I couldn’t be alive—to kill him—he never died—so I was born, but— Don’t think about it too much because the paradoxes will make your brain hurt. Oh, wait, it’s a whole franchise later now, and the many zigs have profoundly zagged. The fact of the matter is that The Terminator is closer to Beverly Hills Cop and The French Connection, in terms of what it is, than to heady science fiction like Blade Runner or 2001. What it is is lots of gunplay, lots of car chases, and a light dusting of sci-fi. Action, baby. As a movie, The Terminator notably loves guns to the point of fetish. Everyone has different models of automatic weapons and shotguns, sawed-off and otherwise, with fancy laser attachments and such. Later there will be pipe bombs. Let the ordnance fly!
Kyle Reese (Michael Biehn), soldier and lover man from the future, explains the basic problem to Sarah Connor and her feathered haircut: “[The] Terminator is out there. It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear, and it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead.” This speech must have been in the trailers, it rings so many bells, succinct and provocative. A moment of clarity. And it pays off in the end, with the picture’s single most inspired plot point, image, and special effect, after the Terminator is blown up in an oil tanker (oh, I forgot to mention the oil tanker) and subsequently appears in shiny metallic skeletonized form because—won’t stop. Won’t stop. WON’T STOP. Also, cyborgs may not feel pain, but you’re bound to wince at some of the gruesome self-repair scenes.
Schwarzenegger is about perfect for the role, in many ways born of the Austrian bodybuilding demimonde to play a cyborg. Later he would marry Maria Shriver and become governor of California and eventually a Never-Trumper. In 1984, his physical specimen, his odd accent, and his stilted delivery made him superbly, comically convincing as a lethal robot, looking forward to Robocop (certainly with the light touch and the code-dump interface displays). The Terminator was perhaps the best of its kind until the “toaster” robots in TV’s Battlestar Galactica remake of the 2000s. He rampages a police station and slays double-digit numbers of cops. He steals cars. He steals police cars. He tracks methodically. He has a great line, one of the greatest in movie history, with “I’ll be back” (the turning point in a funny scene). I can’t remember if they use the line again in the sequel.
Director and cowriter James Cameron would go on to become a pillar of semi-inspired bloat (opinions differ on Titanic and Avatar, but I think they’re both all right). The roots can be seen here (and even more so in the sequel, as I recall). The Terminator takes a long time to get to its best special effect—the skeletonized Terminator—but it’s arguably worth the wait. It certainly was then, though special effects developments in the following 40 years have somewhat undercut it. I remember The Terminator now as a VHS classic and late-night cable-TV staple. When it could be looked at, it was looked at. Sometimes going to bed was the better option. The gunplay and car chases are generally enough to get you to the big finish, set off by the oil tanker going up. The ending is no ending, just an obvious setup for sequels to come, albeit at a relatively stately pace of five or six years or more between installments. I fully intend to get to the first sequel, and maybe beyond, but I will need some time to let this cheese settle.
Schwarzenegger is about perfect for the role, in many ways born of the Austrian bodybuilding demimonde to play a cyborg. Later he would marry Maria Shriver and become governor of California and eventually a Never-Trumper. In 1984, his physical specimen, his odd accent, and his stilted delivery made him superbly, comically convincing as a lethal robot, looking forward to Robocop (certainly with the light touch and the code-dump interface displays). The Terminator was perhaps the best of its kind until the “toaster” robots in TV’s Battlestar Galactica remake of the 2000s. He rampages a police station and slays double-digit numbers of cops. He steals cars. He steals police cars. He tracks methodically. He has a great line, one of the greatest in movie history, with “I’ll be back” (the turning point in a funny scene). I can’t remember if they use the line again in the sequel.
Director and cowriter James Cameron would go on to become a pillar of semi-inspired bloat (opinions differ on Titanic and Avatar, but I think they’re both all right). The roots can be seen here (and even more so in the sequel, as I recall). The Terminator takes a long time to get to its best special effect—the skeletonized Terminator—but it’s arguably worth the wait. It certainly was then, though special effects developments in the following 40 years have somewhat undercut it. I remember The Terminator now as a VHS classic and late-night cable-TV staple. When it could be looked at, it was looked at. Sometimes going to bed was the better option. The gunplay and car chases are generally enough to get you to the big finish, set off by the oil tanker going up. The ending is no ending, just an obvious setup for sequels to come, albeit at a relatively stately pace of five or six years or more between installments. I fully intend to get to the first sequel, and maybe beyond, but I will need some time to let this cheese settle.
This is definitely one of those kind of action movies that can never match the intensity of the first time you see it. That knockdown, dragged out, OMG, this Terminator thing cannot be terminated ending is just never the same a second or third viewing. But still exemplary '80s action cheese, I'd argue. Swarznegger's deadpan robot is funny. The aerobics get-ups are funny. Sarah's friend dancing with her headphones and a Walkmen. The police psychologist! Really, all the cops do that cynical hapless Keystone Cops-thing '80s style to perfection. The science fiction time travel is a ridiculous trope, of course, but Skynet-- what if the computers, AI (Hal!), take over to enslave and/or wipeout humans?!-- dystopic theme remains the best feature of the franchise. Even though, admittedly, they don't do much with the premise beyond superhero cartoon stuff. The bombed out hellscape after Skynet, etc. Or Kyle Reese, father to John Conner, martyring himself so his son can rise, after Skynet's takeover, as some kind of combat Jesus figure saving, or trying to save, humanity from the final tyranny of the machines. Cheesy, hokey as hell, for sure. But, still, violent action as energetic as George Miller or any Hong Kong action I've seen. Anyway, I appreciate your critical restraint. It remains trash I treasure.
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