Commando

The opening shot of 1985’s Commando doesn't feature a line of dialogue, a political manifesto, or even a plot point. Instead, it features a bicep. Not just any bicep, but the mountainous, vein-popping arm of Arnold Schwarzenegger carrying a literal tree trunk over his shoulder. It is the ultimate statement of intent. This isn't a movie about a man; it's a movie about a force of nature that happens to wear camo cream and speak in glorious, punchy one-liners. I watched this most recent time while sitting in a very uncomfortable lawn chair I’d moved into my living room for "ambience," and honestly, the back strain only made me respect John Matrix’s physical endurance more.

The Bicep That Launched a Thousand Rentals

While The Terminator made Arnold Schwarzenegger a star, Commando made him a brand. This is the zenith of the 1980s "One-Man Army" subgenre, a film so confident in its own absurdity that it borders on high art. Director Mark L. Lester (who gave us the equally wild Class of 1984) understood that we didn’t come here for a gritty meditation on the trauma of war. We came to see a guy jump out of the wheel well of a moving plane, land in a swamp, and not even ruin his haircut.

The setup is lean: John Matrix is a retired Special Forces colonel whose daughter (a young Alyssa Milano) is kidnapped by a disgraced former subordinate and a deposed South American dictator. He has eleven hours to fly to Val Verde, kill a president, and fly back. Instead, he jumps off the plane and starts a ticking-clock rampage through Los Angeles. The logic of this movie is basically a five-year-old playing with GI Joes, and that’s why it’s a masterpiece. It moves with a relentless, percussive energy, fueled by James Horner’s wonderfully bizarre score. Most composers would go for orchestral bombast; Horner decided the best way to track a massacre was with a heavy dose of steel drums and saxophone. It shouldn't work, yet I can’t imagine the film without that tropical, clanging rhythm.

A Masterclass in Letting Off Steam

One of the greatest joys of Commando is its supporting cast, specifically Rae Dawn Chong as Cindy. In an era where female leads in action movies were often relegated to screaming, she is a delightful anomaly. She’s confused, terrified, and eventually fully committed to helping Matrix blow up a Porsche. Her chemistry with Arnold is genuinely funny, providing a grounded foil to his superhuman stoicism.

Then there’s the action itself. We are firmly in the Golden Age of Practical Effects here. When a building explodes in Commando, a building actually explodes. When a stuntman gets thrown off a balcony, you can practically see the "pancake" trampolines hidden just out of frame—a common trick of the era that fans of the VHS release would pause and rewind to spot. There’s a tactile weight to the violence. The mall fight sequence, filmed at the iconic Sherman Oaks Galleria (the same mall from Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Chopping Mall), features Arnold swinging from a giant decorative sun like a lethal Tarzan. It’s clear, well-staged, and makes modern CGI-bloated fight scenes look like a disorganized mess of pixels.

The Chainmail and the Chaos

You cannot talk about this film without discussing the villain, Bennett, played with glorious, sweaty intensity by Vernon Wells (Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior). Clad in a string vest and a chainmail tunic that looks like it was stolen from a medieval themed-restaurant, Bennett is the dark mirror to Matrix. The final knife fight between them is legendary among cult cinema fans, not just for the choreography, but for the palpable, weirdly intimate tension between the two. Wells reportedly took the role on short notice, and his performance is a fever dream of wide-eyed mania.

The film found its true immortality on home video. The box art—Matrix holding that four-barreled M202 FLASH rocket launcher—became the wallpaper of every suburban video store. It was the kind of tape that was always slightly grainy because it had been through a thousand VCRs, the tracking wobbling just as Matrix tells David Patrick Kelly’s character, Sully, that he’ll kill him last. Speaking of Kelly (who also starred in The Warriors), his death scene features one of the most famous continuity errors in history: the yellow Porsche he’s driving is completely totaled on one side, only to be pristine in the very next shot after Matrix "fixes" it. It’s these quirks that turn a standard actioner into a beloved relic.

Screenwriter Steven E. de Souza—who would later write Die Hard—packed the script with so many iconic quips that the movie is practically a comedy. From "Let off some steam, Bennett" to "Don’t disturb my friend, he’s dead tired," the film weaponizes puns as effectively as M60s. It’s a relic of a time when the hero didn't need to be "relatable" or "conflicted." He just needed to be able to carry a phone booth with a guy inside it.

Commando is the purest distillation of 80s excess you can find. It’s a film that knows exactly what it is and refuses to apologize for it. Between the steel drum soundtrack, the absurd body count, and Arnold Schwarzenegger at his charismatic peak, it’s a high-octane joyride that actually rewards your attention with its sheer creativity. If you haven't seen it recently, find the biggest bowl of popcorn you can and prepare for a masterclass in cinematic adrenaline. It's a loud, proud, and perfectly executed slice of action history.