Imagine my “uhg :(” upon hearing that not only would one of my all time most loved films (John Carpenter’s 1982 The Thing, a remake of the 1951 The Thing From Another World, based on the short 1938 ‘Who Goes There?’) was about to receive the prequel treatment, but it would share the SAME EXACT TITLE OF THE ORIGINAL [REMAKE] in order to totally fuck with my DVD filing system. Despite my initial scepticism I lowered my axe and stopped Google mapping the houses of the production team upon learning that the crew were obsessive fan boys who’d gone over the 5 min scene of that smouldering Norwegian base with an anally attentive eye, weeding out all possibilities of how the shit went down at the camp 24 hours before it hit the American base. This was no half-assed studio grab for cash (….not entirely) but a Hollywood financed fan fiction by a duo of fanatics. And best of all it would show the alien in its first form before it added people and dogs to its lexicon. So why did it suck?
Well mainly it’s the story, a retread of the 1982 movie with a few variations of the familiar sequences. The biggest let down is that we learn nothing new about the creature who demands a film dedicated to exploring the physiology alone, and its true alien form is quickly ditched in favour of humanoid designs – seen that back in ‘82, now show us more lobstrocities from Planet X! The characters feel like nothing more than underdeveloped monster fodder and it’s all too predictable to know who the hidden alien is, which is never a good aspect in a narrative centred on paranoia and guess work. Most damming of all though was the decision to use CGI rather than practical effects. The 1982 films’ puppets/robots were the finest of it’s time, and although their quality may appear dated to modern audiences the masterful direction skills of John Carpenter made use of light/shadows and camera positions to minimise obvious puppetry while maximising gross-out scares. The fact theses were fully automated animatronics bound in rubbery flesh and oozing all manner of vile viscous fluids gives them an off-putting ‘almost real’ vibe, which is why 30 years on they are still much more frightening than computer generated creatures, because no matter how convincing the CGI it’ll always lack that crude physicality (those who doubt should compare the slug-turds of Shivers to those in Slither).
The shame of all this is that this [p]re-make’s producers went to the trouble of crafting fully working animatronics, only to then overlay them with postproduction flesh tones to better match them to the lighting, rather than adapting their lighting to better hide their imperfections. The end result is a film with blockbuster glitz and glamour that undermines the horrific designs, and tries to tries to follow in the footsteps of its forbearer with a few new twists that fail to distract from the fact this is a fan love letter to Carpenter. A letter written from the heart and with some creative flair, but nothing more. This is The Thing….2011.
Part 1: why Did Something Have to Survive 😦 ?
A trio of Norwegian archaeologists are following a signal out in the middle of the Antarctic plains when suddenly the earth cracks and they find themselves hurting down a precipice. Good news is that the chasm narrows and the truck wedges them safely \o/ Bad news is that they are 150ft down and have no way up D:
What, we’re cutting scenes here – what about the Norwegians and their escape? Fine, we flash to the laboratory of brilliant palaeontologist Dr. Kate Lloyd, pictured here as a cheerleader:
She’s approached by Dr. Sander Halvorson, a man whose neatly trimmed beard and cryptic nature do not in the slightest mask that he’ll be the ‘face’ the final alien will be wearing, rendered in ropey CG graphics like a certain Spider Smith.
Halvorson: Dr. Lloyd, I hear you are zee best paleontologist in 100,000 miles – zer ver better choices a lot closer to our base, but you are zee sexiest. I vant you to help us identify a strange artifact in zee Arctic.
Kate: That’s very generous, but as you can see I’m tied up with running a camera into a frozen lion. It could teach humanity so much…
Halvorson: Vat if I told you I’m not going to tell you vat you’ll be vorking on?
Kate: With a mystery hook like that, how can I resist?!
Halvorson: Excellent. I shall however make it clear now that I trust a voman viv matters of science about as much as I love Americans. Vich is zero.
Kate: Then why are you asking me?
Halvorson : My employers ver determined not to have sausage-fest, like zose Americans vorking over at zee other camp. Plus zis vay, ve don’t have to spend half zee film translating Norwegian for zee uneducated mass audience.
So Kate and Halvorson’s US assistant/future monster bait Adam are helicoptered to the Norwegians polar ice base, curtsey of 2 additional Americans; Tought Black Guy and Too-Cool White Guy. Turns out the Norwegians have discovered a crashed space craft deep in the ice. The second greatest mystery of all time has been answered: we are not alone in the universe, leaving the BIGGER QUESTION, how the hell did the excavation team escape the crater to tell the rest of the team? Bonus, there was a passenger aboard the ship, and its frozen corpse is buried at a manageable depth some way from the craft. They dig it up and cart it to base. To their disappointment it isn’t Captain America – that is unless history really got the facts wrong. Inside is a lobster as played by Cthulhu in the nightmares of a meth-head David Cronenberg going cold turkey while reading the collective works of Hellblazer.
Kate: My guess is this thing is millions of years old.
Halvorson: I vant to take a tissue sample.
Kate: Sure, let me just put on these gloves…
Halvorson: ZER IS NO TIME! I VAS A FOOL TO THINK A VOMAN COULD DO A MANS VORK! I shall lecture you now on why time is money.
One short but boring speech later….
Adam: That’s it Dr Lloyd, just drill a little further…
Kate: My hands are cold 😥
Halvorson: Shut up!
Oh man Halvorson is hilarious, it’s like the actor couldn’t think of how to portray the character so just decided to rip off Dr Smith from Lost in Space – may as well have a sign round his neck with ‘Final Boss Monster’ scrawled on it for all his subtlety. They get a DNA sample and cart it off to the lab. After hours of looking at it through a microscope their worst fears are realized; science is really fucking tedious.
That evening on the cusp of an oncoming blackout storm the team celebrate/announce their character types; the angry Englishman, the other woman who’s regrets signing up to a team of all-male Viking descendants, a beard with a man hanging off it called Lars who makes up for his inability to speak English by both loving dogs and providing a segue into the 1982 film, the ginger Norwegian with a beard like a bushfire, that twitchy guy with the glasses, Norway’s answer to Oliver Platt, the one with no discernable features who’ll fall first victim without fail, and Halvorson & Edvard who may actually be the same person.
See why this might get confusing during the more fast paced scenes?! Hair parting and a dislike of women is not a good way to distinguish similar looking people. Y’know what DOES?
Okay bad example. So like all children of Odin, the Norwegians break out the ukuleles and sing their ecstatic hearts out about how happy they are to have killed God with their discovery.
Meanwhile, the token black guy goes to examine the *SPOILER* thawing space crab ALONE. Cue cheap scare by character jumping out at him for a cheap laugh. Comedy appears to be universal though as the prawn of Mars finds this so hilarious that it too jumps out it’s block of ice and through the roof in a lighthearted attempt at first contact– I think I even saw a false moustache/glasses disguise on its’ face.
No one believes the black guy when he says the creature that could haunt the nightmares of Pennywise the Clown has escaped – “oh those blacks, what liars they are” their laughter rings, yet when they discover the thing has gone they don’t accuse him of stealing it – if you’re going to play the racist prejudice card at least commit!
Elsewhere in a sane parallel dimension….
Kate: Based on what little I’ve been able to assess, these are the facts: this alien species is the size of a mini-bus, has 8 legs that end in 20ft talons, is coated in a thick exoskeleton that given its’ size is up to 3 inches thick, and despite being frozen for hundreds of thousands of years is still alive and able to regenerate lost cells and leap from a solid block of ice over 8 meters into the air through a roof.
Halvorson: So Zis is zee plan: Ve hold up in a secure room vith all our weapons, and sit it out until it either comes to us or freezes to death. Given zee distance it covered from its’ craft before it froze last time, zat could be as little as 20 minutes.
Edvard: Who vant coco vile vee vait?
Norwegians/Americans: I do!
Back in the batshit dimension that brought you Scientology and Kabala….
Halvorson: So Zis is zee plan: Ve split into unarmed teams of 2 – 1 flashlight per team -, run around in zee dark and scream should/when anyvon gets eaten.
Edvard: Who vants zee flamethrower?
Norwegians/Americans: I do!
They split up into teams, codenamed; Cannon Fodder, Human Shield, Donner Party, I’ll Be Right Back, and Lucky Bastards with The Flamethrower. Team Donner Party (the guy with glasses and the one with a bullseye on his back) snoop around the back cabins, and upon hearing a noise from under the stoop dash in excitedly and shine bright lights into the monstrosity’s eyes while shouting in its face. I’d love to think that in the fleeting nanosecond the bullseye Norwegian sees the barbed tentacle hurtling towards his chest, his mind recalls the advice about a cornered animal being the most dangerous, then applies this knowledge to an animal as big as a bear with the complexion of a coral reef and the physique of a scorp-topuss. The luckless bastard is sucked into its endlessly gaping maw and sucked like a gobstopper as the team assembles to torch its armor-plated tuchus, just in the nick of bad-timing. The assorted Norwegians and Adam leap onto the corpse and begin wrestling over it to claim rights to the Nobel prize the least char-grilled part will earn them.
Halvorson: Good vork team, an I am sure a little fire did vat a trillion years trapped vithout air in a frozen lake could not. So sure in fact, I say we drag it inside, desecrate zee corpse and leave it unattended over night.
Kate: Maybe it’d be safer to roast it to a buggering crisp then hurl it off a cliff – just my professional advice.
Halvorson: Oh you silly vomen and your playing at scientist – so cute. Come give me a hand Glasses; I’ll take zee ass-end, you take zee side vith your friends feet sticking out of it.
Glasses: You know ve could have pulled zee guy out before ve torched it.
Halvorson: No, he vas already dead.
Glasses: Then vhy is he getting up and waving at us?
Halvorson: Involuntary muscular spasms. He is dead! *BANG*Happy now, I shot him in zee head to prove it? The poor, poor soul.
Lars: [Translated from Norwegian] *Could you all stop speaking in English so I have an idea what’s going on?*
They drag the body to the lab and begin to poke at its not-quite-deadness with the tender loving care of a hungry polar bear with chainsaw arms in a penguin sanctuary. Slitting open the stomach revels a terrifying truth.
Kate: It appears that this thing absorbs the DNA of its prey and transforms it into badly rendered CGI.
Adam: What does this mean?
Kate: Any one of us could be copied and used as a mimic with all the believability of the live action movie Scooby Doo.
Norwegian Oliver Platt: Good God…
Lars: *What is everybody saying!? And where is my best friend, the one who was with the glasses guy earlier?*
The only thing it seems unable to digest/mimic/whatever the fuck it does is metal – the leg brace pins from the fresh victims’ leg have been spat out to indicate a plot device is being manufactured for later. Adam and Kate continue to study the fresh samples that continue to replicate, thus bringing the mortality of the beast dripping on the lab table into serious question. Here’s an idea based entirely on what I’ve witnessed to date, rather than as a lifetime science brain who’s EXERIENCED it (I’m looking at you Kate); how about you DESTROY the monster that was happy to eat you BEFORE its vivisection began while it’s still weakened? What’s that, you’d rather wait for it to kill Halvorson first? Well that’s…not a bad idea at all actually.
COMING UP: well-lit corridors, characters you have no emotional interest in dying in predictable ways, people looking mistrustfully at each other, cabin fever madness, Halvorson being a dick, a lacklustre reimaging of the ‘blood test’ scene, and an alien with the stealth and disguise skills of Invader Zim who cannot wait to say “Hey guys it was ME all along :D” as it sucks up the atmosphere like a sponge. CONTINUED IN PART 2
Part 2: In the Arctic, No One Can Hear You Ice Cream.
The following dawn the chopper pilots prepare to take off, with the SUSPICIOUSLY EDGY Glasses Guy and Oliver Platt along with them. Gee, I wonder which one will and up being the thing; the guy who’s waaaaay to obviously the thing to be the thing, or the guy who’s acting so normally that he’s obviously the fucking thing! As they leave Kate makes the shocking discovery that the shower is filled with blood, meaning the creature is still alive and copying. She tries to alert the pilots who decide that they should land. THE FOLLOWING HAS NOT BEEN EMBELESHED FOR COMEDIC PURPOSES
Glasses: [Dead Monotone/Impatient] Is there something wrong?
Oliver Platt: [Worried but reassuring] Uh…no, no everything’s fine…
Glasses begins shaking uncontrollably – you know, like the thing does before it turns into a stomach acid squirting dog-crab and eats everything in sight.
Oliver Platt [Comforting] They probably just forgot something. We’ll…we’ll be in the air in no time. Okay? Don’t worry, hang in there *His face EXPLODES into a billion teeth and tentacles and he eats Glasses Guy*
WHAT THE FUCK?! Half a second ago you were passing for more human than the ACTUAL human, even going so far as to rationalise the situation and convince him that in 5 minutes you’ll be en route to freedom AND THEN YOU DO THIS?! Where is the logic here? How does doing this do you any favours? You are clearly smarter than this to understand how to perfectly imitate human emotions, but then you blow up your only escape option – are you TRYING to get caught or freeze to death again? Ugh naturally the helicopter spirals out of control and crashes just far enough away that we won’t know who survived until their inevitable return later on. The team are understandably on edge, and with the storm having knocked out their communications there’s only one way to keep the tensions below a murderous minimum: have Kate tell them the alien is still alive and walking around in human skin just waiting to absorb them. Good work Kate, that should keep the ambient paranoia at Cold War levels. She then informs them all that the blood she saw coating the shower like a layer of paint has been cleaned up, meaning the creature is still among them….yeah good intentions aside, letting the creature know you’re on to it’s game to it’s face = TERRIBLE FUCKING IDEA! To prove my point we have the following scene.
The Hooman Female: Kate, can I speak to you in alone in a dark secluded room?
Kate: Why should I trust you?
The Hooman Female: Because I think I saw the biped you designate Colin in the washroom with a bloody rag, and I wish to discuss this with you in a place with no weapons or eye witnesses.
Kate: A human wouldn’t lie about such things. To the broom closet!
That’s your idea of winning her trust, asking her to join you in a locked room!? The thing in 1982 faked a heart attack just to get close to the doctor after subtly implanting it’s innocence into everyone’s (audience included) mind by KEEPING LOW ON THEIR MENTAL RADARS as a background character, and here you are trusting in blind faith that Kate won’t snag a flamethrower on route because you asked nicely and implicated another person. Sigh, so in the broom closet….
The Hooman Female: We should hide all the vehicle keys so no one can leave. They are over there in that box….rigiiiiht behind you.
Kate: Then I shall turn my back on you and have a rummage…nope nothing yet.
The Hooman Female: *bone crunching* Keep, arrrrgh, keep looking *popping joints*
Kate: Still can’t see anything….
The Hooman Female: *snapping cartilage* Trust meeeee-aaaaagh – they’re in there *ripping skin *
Kate: No luck. Guess I’ll turn around.
The Hooman Female: NO! Your, uh, your shoe’s untied.
Kate: Well that deserves closer inspection….Hum, seems you were mista-OH SHIT ME GIANT SHARK-MOUTH VAGINA!
Given how obviously suspicious the woman was, I’d have put money on the thing being the washing machine, given the helicopter scene. Matter of fact I revoke what I said about this thing being smarter than it makes out; it clearly has as much understanding of human social politics as Invader Zim, and sticks out more obviously from those it fails to blend in with like the killer clowns from outer space!
It attacks Kate IN THE LOUDEST WAY POSSIBLE in a modest shrieking rampage that destroys doors, walls, people….you know, super sleuth spy-like. It even dices up a few of the unidentifiable Norwegians before anyone gets there shit together and burns it to a crisp. Why even bother with the sneaky stuff any more when a quick attack can end all your woes in under a minute? THINK YOU IDIOT – if every one of your cells is an independent organism then why even hulk-out at all when you could just bleed on them, or kiss them and keep it low key? I know which I’d be more terrified to find slipping me the tongue.
They burn all the bodies but are convinced there is still another covert agent among them. Halvorson is determined not to go for help in case they loose dibs on the monster that could end all sentient life in a matter of days, cuz that’s really something you want named after you: Halvorson’s Planet-Wide Genocide Monster.
Kate convinces them too that they have to make sure it’s dead before they can end quarantine….so why does it not kill them all now while they stand around unarmed in the snow? Unidentifiable Norwegian #7 suggests they take blood samples and run tests to expose the creature – like in that film he saw one time. Again, why not kill them all now; they have several viable ways to identify you anyway and it’s not like they’re presently armed – DO YOU GET OFF ON THEIR SCHEMES TO KILL YOU? So the blood samples are made up by two completely trustworthy individuals while Kate and Lars (remember the guy who can’t even speak English) disable the vehicles. Meanwhile the survivors act as red herrings by constantly asking to spend alone time with one another. Either they are totally fucking stupid, or they are so confident they know which of the PERFECT LIKNESSES is the thing that they can put their lives on the line to chat with those deemed human. MORONS!
Just when you think paranoia can’t get any more paranoid who should return but the American helicopter pilots, having survived the crash and the trek back through the frozen storm. And what is their reward: well they get locked in the shed – could you imagine if this was the climax to The Grey? Liam Neeson wouldn’t have stood for that shit, and he didn’t even have to fight off aliens, just a bunch of wolves. Surprise, the lab has been torched and the blood samples are ruined! This was a clear sign the test would work as the alien was threatened enough to take action, so why not do the test right here and now with a scalpel and a plate and nuke the one who refuses?! But no, Kate has to upstage the original [remake] and twist the tale: checking inside each others mouths for metal fillings. Ah yes, the craftily hinted plot device from earlier that the creature cannot assimilate inorganic compounds; I was wondering when that’d show is face. Granted this is a fairly good way of identifying the alien, however there is one small, insignificant, minute, teeny tiny issue: YOU HAVE TO STICK YOUR HEAD IN THE THING’S MOUTH.
Yeah, you first lady. The metal-mouths are weeded out from those who bothered to brush. What a shocker Halvorson is among the suspects – he may be a douche but at least he pays attention to his dentist. Chaos reigns when it’s discovered the American’s who beat the harsh mistress that is winter have overcome the sheds mighty padlock and fled, arming themselves as they storm the base. Cue one of the Norwegians getting shot and a hasty retread of the resuscitation scene from the 1982 version.
Adam: Edvard’s been shot and the alien is in this room, watching us. You having fun torturing us, huh?
The Thing: ‘Fun’? That’s today’s secret word! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! 😀
By this point Pewee Herman here can’t help but make a spectacle of itself, revealing itself at any given opportunity (mostly when surrounded by armed people instead of when alone with unarmed individuals), shouting “Look at me in all my CGI glory! Isn’t it great that these days we don’t need to rely on chance glimpses and good artistic direction that require horror to be derived from the viewers imagination, and instead show me in all my splendour :D”. Edvard’s arm turns into a lobstrocity from The Dark Tower and face-rapes another of the Norwegians (I’m sure there weren’t this many when we arrived at camp), allowing the film to rip off Alien as well as its’ predecessor. With that Edvard transmutes into the thingiest thing that ever thinged, running amok through the survivors and finally, and I mean finally killing a member of the cast whose primary language is English (given their roots, you’d think the Vikings would be more adept survivors than the cowboys); the black guy – maybe you plan to spread the message of extinctionary genocide for all mankind, but that there is still racism dude! Adam quickly follows as Edvard merges with him via HIS FACE to become the twisty double-head thing the American team will later dissect one hour later in 1982, and I believe I speak for everybody when I say:
All bets are off as the thing decides it’s fed up of retreading tired rehash sequences from the original: time for the hoomans to die –to death!
COMING UP: DEATH! Space ships, a thrilling final chase, the final boss revealed (no prizes for guessing Halvorson), dog-fights, and the answer to the greatest mystery of all that has had the finest minds in film studies scratching their heads since 1982: how did that axe get lodged in the cabin wall? TO BE CONCLUDED
Part 3: Sweet Aunt Petunia, It’s the Never-Loving, Bug-eyed Thing!
Twisty Face lumbers off to whereabouts unknown as Kate and Carter the pilot tool up to take it on. Don’t say “groovy” too soon Bruce Campbell, for while Kate has equipped herself with the last remaining flamethrower, Carter is less in tune with the situation, having taken a chance and grabbed an axe – but not just any old axe: THE axe, last seen in The Wall back in 1982.
While many fans have been waiting with bated breath for this icon of cinema to receive its comeback, I’m pretty sure that this isn’t the smartest weapon to use against a monster that kills/absorbs with a single touch, and has proven on multiple occasions that it doesn’t even have to be in the same hemisphere to lacerate you with tentacles. They press on regardless of his clinical retardation. Elsewhere, Halvorson tempts fate by being a coward in a horror film and soon is swapping tonsil juice with ol’ Twisty Face – so remember kids, if you ever find yourselves in a tricky situation regarding parasitic space invaders, don’t be that guy who deserts his friends and hides in a desk fort. Kate and Carter come up against another lobster-arm creature, causing Carter to embed his axe in the wall *fanfare* and cutting the bugger in half.
Carter: That should do the trick.
Faster than you can say “work shed” the two halves of the lobstrocity become two separate lobstrocities, which then rejoin.
Carter: Riiiiight, I forgot it could do that.
Kate: Yeah, that’s why we’ve been using fire based projectiles this whole time.
Carter: I thought it was because you didn’t want to fight over who got the gardening equipment.
They press on until Twisty Face burst onto the scene in a blaze of CG glory, splitting the pair up. Carter hides in the kitchen while Kate….erm, lies in wait to save his ass at the last minute? Wisely the creature goes after the ONE WITHOUT THE FLAMETHROWER and stalks after the pilot, whom having underestimated the effectiveness of certain melee weapons mere scenes ago decides on……a knife (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJ9wNT21c_s).
His reasoning is that the knife will be more effective than an egg whisk or rocket launcher salad tongs IF, and only IF he backs himself into an inescapable corner. I want him so dead. Yes the thing finds his hiding spot, and yes Kat leaps soundlessly from behind to torch its ass, and yes technically this means that Carter’s plan worked, and yes5 the shrived remains of Twisty Face are the ones discovered by the American Team back in 1982. Halvorson is now infected and flees the scene back to the buried mother ship in a snowmobile uncannily like the ones Kate and Lars apparently disabled earlier. This is what happens when an American palaeontologist is tasked with overseeing an engineering problem with a guy who speaks no English. Luckily for them, Kate and Lars failed to disable the rest of the vehicles to (although the cup holders are royally fucked beyond repair, as is her pride), and they head out after the last of the maw-hicans.
Kate: Here’s the plan: we go in, separate, take the thing on in its home turf where it has total home field advantage, kill it then go for celebration tacos.
Carter: But we only have one flamethrower.
Kate: Who need fire when you have GRENADES? 😀
Carter: Holy hell, where did you get grenades!?
Kate: There’s like a whole crate of them back at base. Lars showed me earlier.
Carter: Why did they bring a crate of grenades, I thought they were archaeologists? More to the point, do you really think using an explosive in a confined space is a good idea?
Kate: Says the guy who tried to take on the 10ft sharkroach with a knife.
They storm the ship in heroic fashion, by which I mean Kate falls through a vent as the ship warms up and conveniently lands right next to the central control room (why do alien menaces always build their engines right over the control room?). So this is it, we at last get to see inside the ship that was designed so this:
-could pilot it. The most immediate aesthetic decision one notices is the TOTAL LACK OF BUTTONS, SWITCHES, PANNELS OR ANYTHING INDICATING ONE CAN INTERFACE WITH THE CRAFT. Seriously, the ship has nothing in it aside from a big blue/yellow DNA helix computer thing, which is pretty alien looking granted, but explains nothing about how it works – no wonder the thing crashed it millennia ago! As Kate marvels at the tech, the alien is revelled to be standing behind her. I don’t mean sneaks up on her, IT’S STANDING IN THE ROOM WHEN SHE ENTERS.
How hard is it to spot this in a room filled primarily with NOTHING? It scares the shit out of Kate with its badly rendered Halvorson face, which mercifully splits open [digivolving] into a fanged cervix (I find it sexier during sex when the woman’s cervix folds shut to resemble Halvorson). She drops the single grenade she brought down a vent and goes scurrying after it with Halvorsonmon in hot pursuit. She in tapped at a dead end but the Halvorsonmon is too short to reach her even with its serrated razor tentacles and gives up without even thinking or detaching part of itself like it did earlier to finish her (the fuck!?). She lunges for the grenade as Halvorsonmon smashes down the wall and drags her out. Halvorsonmon’s downfall turns out to be a sever allergy to grenades, which is sucksville for him because that’s exactly the thing Kate lodges down his throat: “*choke* Curses! Grenades, my only weakness that isn’t fire, freezing conditions, vehicular accidents, dynamite, locked doors, tight crawl spaces, Norwegians….man did I chose the wrong planet to invade”.
Carter arrives too late to be of any use and together they leave the exploding ship.
Outside Kate and Carter share a moment of peace, spoilt somewhat when Kate turns the flame thrower on Carter.
Kate: You know how I knew you didn’t know I knew you were one of them: your earring.
Carter:….Did the real Carter have an earring?
Kate: Bet your ass he did.
Carter: But that’s a really bas twist! I don’t think there were even any shots before this one that even suggested I had one until you mentioned it this second.
Kate: And yet I base your certain death on it.
Carter: Kate listen to yourself, I can’t die in such a terribly contrived manner!
Kate takes down Carter and with that her nightmare is over. That was….that was pathetically easy. Twisty face took down 4 armed people in the space of 20 seconds, and he was doing the downstairs crab walk. Oliver Platt-beast took half a nanosecond to erupt into a mouth of tentacles, so why doesn’t Carter just whip the bitch and be done with it instead of pleading for his life. Simple: it was the real Carter; he lost his earring and Kate is a cold blooded murderer so crippled with paranoid mistrust she’ll pose more of a risk to the public than the thing, leaving her unable to reintergrate into society. Still, beats sitting around waiting to freeze to death doesn’t it Kurt Russell?
Ooooh, awkward…help me out here Jack.
As the credits roll the last of the dangling threads are tied off and the plot holes are filled in. The British Guy slits his wrists in anticipation for a cameo in the sequel, as Lars jumps the rescue helicopter to chase & gun down down the dog/thing as it flees towards the American base. We can but wish him luck in his successful hunt.
OH FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST! CAN’T YOU PEOPLE DO ANYTHING RIGHT?!
(See you in 29 years ago for the sequel)