Predator

Koko: I couldn't resist the photo. But the tall, laser-bearing, brother-killing beast from beyond gazing up at the Bat signal isn't so different from what happens when he tangles with a pre-Gubernatorial Schwarzenegger. One year before he takes Bruce Willis up a giant building to fight deranged Germans, the director of Die Hard gave us this campy masterpiece. And like Die Hard, Predator is best enjoyed with the R-complex totally and unthinkingly engaged, the corpus callosum severed, and the motor senses goofed by pharmaceutical delights. Sure, within five minutes you're struggling to accept derivative references to the Iran-Contra affair, and of course there's always that Indian warrior who happens to join an elite rescue squad manned by Rocky Balboa's nemesis, a pussy-obsessed comedian, and the future governers of California and Minnesota. But while the plot is alogical and gay, it's also supercool--epic in exactly the way Schwarzenegger himself was before he made us take him seriously. Just let it happen. Never ask how one man running for six seconds is able to escape a small nuclear explosion and live to ride home in a helicopter next to his hot Panamanian hostage. Just don't ask.