Commando

I had the overwhelming feeling while watching this film that I was walking in the midst of events whose beginnings I didn't fully understand. There is an entire genre out there of films from the late 1970s and early 1980s wherein men whose families/lives/countries are threatened are inspired to become one-man vigilante armies, inflicting massive collateral damage on their way to avenging themselves against those responsible.

I have never until now actually seen one of these movies.

I begrudgingly admit to enjoying the movie more than I expected to, which is not the same thing as wanting to explore any other canonical works of the genre. Still, there were a couple of promising undercurrents of dark humor, not to mention the simpler pleasure of watching peak-period classic Schwarzenegger delivery. The film brims with all types of anxiety just offscreen: Reagan-era conservative paranoia, homophobia, the nervousness that '80s parents felt about losing children they didn't like that much in the first place. Against this backdrop, Arnold's refreshingly brief, unironic readings of each line provide welcome clarity.

The plot begins with a hilariously literal representation of our hero leaving behind a pastoral and well-earned life of calm and descending into an urban jungle to recover his offspring. Here is where Arnold and I diverge. I would have let the bad guys have the shrieking tot and enjoy my mountain lake home in welcome silence. This would also have saved the world from Alyssa Milano's future guilt-tripping of the entire world because none of us donate enough to Oxfam for her liking. But, plots must move forward or die and so Arnold teams up with Rae Dawn Chong, who has great legs and should have let them speak for her instead of trying to do any acting about the waist. A role like this could have been hilarious if played by 80's-era Melanie Griffith, who could make us believe that she eventually comes to sympathize with the stranger who has destroyed her car and cost her her job, all in pursuit of a child she's never met and can't be sure exists. As it is Chong looks mildly annoyed, as if Arnold has caused her to break a heel, and eventually moves on to what the script intends as sympathy but which reads as distraction. It's a performance that's enough to make you long for the subtlety of Madonna in "Who's that Girl?"

No one watches this type of film for the nuanced acting by the female leads, though. There are lots of explosions, some hilarious killings (many made more hilarious by how dated the outfits look), and the requisite amount of stormtrooper aim on the part of the bad guys. It's a cute way to pass an afternoon and, unlike many similar films today, knows when to stop. With a brisk running time, a classic Schwarzenegger performance, and a script that could wink at itself even before the costuming became hilarious, this served as a suitable introduction to the vigilante genre for me.