Aliens

In 1979, Ridley Scott (Blade Runner, Gladiator) gave us a haunted house in space—a slow-burn exercise in Gothic dread where a lone organism picked off a blue-collar crew one by one. Seven years later, James Cameron (The Terminator, Titanic) didn't just walk back into that house; he brought a wrecking ball and a platoon of Colonial Marines. It is a rare feat when a sequel pivots genres so violently yet remains so fundamentally tethered to the soul of the original. Where Alien was a whisper in a dark corridor, Aliens is a primal scream.

I actually watched this most recently on a tablet during a cross-country flight while sitting next to a woman who was reading a very thick book about artisanal cheeses. The contrast between her Gruyère diagrams and a Xenomorph Queen getting shredded by a hydraulic power loader was surprisingly poetic. It reminded me that even on a tiny screen with mediocre headphones, the sheer momentum of this film is unstoppable.

The Ultimate Badasses and the Corporate Rat

Most action movies from the mid-80s lean into the invincibility of their heroes, but James Cameron’s screenplay takes a different route. He introduces us to the Colonial Marines—a loud, cigar-chomping, high-tech infantry unit—and then systematically dismantles their confidence. Bill Paxton (Twister) as Private Hudson is the MVP here, transitioning from "ultimate badass" to a panicked, "Game over, man!" wreck. His frantic energy provides a necessary foil to Michael Biehn (The Abyss), who plays Corporal Hicks with a quiet, stoic competence that I’ve always found more "alpha" than any screaming action star.

Then there’s Paul Reiser (Mad About You) as Burke. If the Xenomorphs represent the terrifying purity of nature, Burke represents the terrifying banality of corporate greed. Burke is the kind of corporate sleaze who would charge you for the air you breathe while your house is on fire. Watching him try to navigate the chaos of LV-426 with a "risk-management" mindset is one of the film’s most effective ways of building tension. You know the monsters are going to try to eat you, but you never quite know when the guy in the suit is going to lock the door from the outside.

A Masterclass in Practical Grime

The 1980s was the undisputed golden age of practical effects, and Aliens is the crown jewel of that era. Before CGI allowed directors to create infinite digital armies, James Cameron and effects legend Stan Winston had to build this world with steel, latex, and miniatures. There’s a weight to the technology in this film that modern sci-fi often lacks. When the APC (Armored Personnel Carrier) bounces over the rocky terrain of the colony, you can feel the suspension straining. When the dropship enters the atmosphere, the vibration feels like it’s rattling your own teeth.

The Queen herself is a marvel of engineering. Controlled by a combination of puppeteers, hydraulics, and cranes, she has a physical presence that a digital render simply cannot replicate. I love the way she moves—hissing, dripping with slime, and possessing a terrifyingly maternal instinct that mirrors Ripley’s own bond with the young survivor, Newt (Carrie Henn). The final confrontation isn't just a spectacle; it’s a clash of two mothers protecting their brood. The "Power Loader" sequence remains, for my money, the most satisfying mechanical duel in cinema history. It’s clunky, industrial, and entirely believable.

The Evolution of Ellen Ripley

At the center of the storm is Sigourney Weaver. Her performance as Ellen Ripley is what elevates Aliens from a great action movie to a landmark piece of storytelling. We meet a Ripley who is broken by PTSD, having spent 57 years in hypersleep only to find her daughter has died of old age and her employers think she’s a lunatic. Sigourney Weaver doesn't play Ripley as a superhero; she plays her as a woman who is terrified but finds a reason to keep moving.

Her chemistry with Lance Henriksen (Near Dark), who plays the "synthetic" Bishop, adds a beautiful layer of subtext. Ripley’s deep-seated distrust of androids—lingering from her encounter with Ash in the first film—slowly thaws into a mutual respect. James Cameron handles this character arc with a surgical precision that ensures every explosion and every gunshot feels earned. By the time Ripley descends into the hive with a pulse rifle and a flamethrower duct-taped together, I wasn't just cheering for the action; I was cheering for her catharsis.

Aliens is the rare "perfect" blockbuster. It respects the audience’s intelligence, builds its world with tactile detail, and delivers an escalating series of set pieces that never lose sight of the characters trapped inside them. It’s a film that demands to be watched on the biggest screen possible—or, failing that, on a flight next to a lady who really likes cheese. It’s a relentless, gritty, and deeply emotional ride that redefined what the "VHS era" could produce. Simply put, they really don't make them like this anymore.