Why John Carpenter’s They Live speaks to our current political landscape

Since the recent U.S. election, I’ve been struggling how to process the result. I don’t know what shape a “resistance” will take this time. I was at the Women’s March in 2017 and organized near- weekly visits to the local offices of our two PA senators to oppose the worst of the initial Trump cabinet picks and policies. As a whole, the groundswell of activism that occurred in 2017 likely stopped the worst of it, but this feels different. The cabinet picks are most definitely worse, and the incoming far-right government trifecta seems more intent on passing sweeping legislation, at least within the first year, before they campaign for the 2026 midterms.

We also have the issue of billionaires like Elon Musk spending unlimited funds to influence an outcome. I don’t know how we deal with that, but I’m turning to writing both as a solace and maybe as a means to offer some paths forward.

In that regard, my first post-election piece is on John Carpenter’s 1988 political satire They Live. There’s a lot of lessons to learn from it, including the power of worker organization. This article was initially published at 1428 Elm this week, and I am reposting it here.

While John Carpenter’s 1988 political satire They Live may have been a response to Ronald Reagan’s America, with direct references to his campaign slogan “morning in America,” the film feels increasingly timely now. Considering the involvement of billionaires in the recent presidential election, with Elon Musk playing an outsized role, Carpenter’s critique of capitalism makes They Live the most relevant of his films for this precarious moment.

Set in LA in the late 1980s, They Live follows a drifter named Nada (Roddy Piper). Within the first 15 minutes, he ends up in a shantytown. Skyscrapers loom in the distance, drawing his gaze and underscoring a setting that shows the divide between the haves and the haves-nots. Initially, Nada isn’t bothered by this.  He’s simply looking for work and believes in the promise of America.

At the shantytown, Nada encounters Frank (Keith David). During their first conversation, their differing views on class become apparent. Frank, like the countless working-class voters from PA, MI, and WI interviewed in 2016 and then again in 2024, laments the loss of well-paying factory jobs. He’s hardened and ready for action, but even more importantly, desperate for a job. He’s ready to tear down the system if he doesn’t find one.

During this first exchange between the men, we learn a lot about Frank and his challenging plight. He tells Nada, “We gave the steel companies a break when they needed it. Know what they gave themselves? Raises,” before reciting one of the film’s most famous lines about the golden rule, “He who has the gold, makes the rules.”

Frank’s justified anger is the most relevant of the two characters. It’s palpable. He, like too many other workers, has been stiffed. Following an election that hinged, at least in part, on economic issues, such as the cost of housing and the skyrocketing cost of everyday goods post-COVID, Frank’s rage feels righteous and warranted. He’s prepared to take a sledgehammer to the whole system.

Nada’s response to Frank’s simmering anger feels naïve at best.  He says, “You know, you ought to have a little more patience with life.” With his blue jeans, flannel shirt, and mullet, Nada looks ready to recite a Bruce Springsteen or John Mellencamp song without really listening to the lyrics.

It would likely have been easier for Nada to brush off Frank’s gripes and maintain his simplistic worldview. However, his character evolves the moment riot police and bulldozers utterly obliterate the shantytown. The scene is one of the film’s most harrowing. Nada looks on in shock and horror as this occurs seemingly for no good reason. He evades the police, only to find a pair of sunglasses that allow him to see the world as it truly is. Thus begins Nada’s political and social awakening.

The glasses empower Nada, making him less susceptible to hyper-consumerism and control. When he puts them on, he sees aliens determined to keep people asleep in a fog of consumerism as they overtake Earth. With the glasses on, Nada sees billboards that say Obey, Consume, and other slogans. When he fixes his gaze on money, he encounters the phrase, “This is your god.”

Carpenter’s political critique isn’t exactly subtle, but it’s incredibly effective. When you have Musk paling around with the new president-elect or the barrage of celebrity endorsements secured by VP Kamala Harris, They Live’s over-the-top political satire speaks to the moment. In 2017, speaking out against a bizarre Neo-Nazi claim that the film traffics in stereotypes, Carpenter made clear that’s not the point of the film, tweeting that it is about “yuppies and unrestrained capitalism.”

Besides the blatant critique of consumerism and capitalism, They Live offers a more subtle message, that of worker power and organizing. For at least half the film, Frank and Nada, two men with working-class backgrounds, stand at a divide. Nada initially dismisses Frank’s anger with a dose of foolish optimism. Later in the film, Frank does the same to Nada, though for different reasons.

When Nada encounters Frank much later in the film, he implores him to try on the glasses and see the world as it truly is. However, Frank landed a job in construction. With Nada’s face plastered all over the news, after killing a few of the aliens, he wants nothing to do with him. Frank wants to protect his job. He has no choice.

The men brawl with each other in an alley. The scene is absurd and also plays up Piper’s wrestling background. However, the sequence, silly as it is, highlights the divide between the men, specifically between different members of the working class. As long as they remain divided, those in power maintain and accumulate wealth. This class division is also maintained because the aliens continually promise workers that they can advance up the social and economic ladder if they submit and assist with the takeover.

Eventually, Frank and Nada, along with other members of a pocket resistance, come together to fight the aliens. This underscores the power of organizing, perhaps as the only means to create a more equitable society.

Alien: Romulus Returns to Basics

It’s been a while since we’ve had an Alien movie worth seeing on the big screen. Ridley Scott’s return to the franchise more than a decade ago gave us Prometheus (2012) and Alien: Covenant (2017). Prometheus has a lot of interesting things to say, but fans complained because it wasn’t a movie featuring Xenomorphs stalking and killing. Because of that, Covenant paid too much attention to fan gripes and in turn, gave us one of the worst films in the franchise.

Alien: Romulus, for better or worse, is a return to bloody basics. It’s even set between the first two films, widely considered the best in the series. Directed by Fede Alvarez (Don’t Breathe, Evil Dead 2013), the film follows a group of young miners desperate to get the hell off of their deary planet, which sees zero days of sunlight. The Company won’t allow them to transfer and keeps upping the number of years they have to work. Yes, The Company is still just as evil and horrible.

Cailee Spaeny stars as Rain, an orphan who’s only real sense of family is an android/syntenic named Andy (David Jonsson). He’s essentially a product that The Company disposed of, before Rain’s father rescued him and reprogrammed him to look after Rain. It’s a really interesting twist on the android aspect that’s always been a part of this franchise.

Rain’s friends, also miners, hatch a plan to board a derelict space station that’s drifted into their orbit and steal the hibernation pods so they can reach a much sunnier planet and create their own lives. They refuse to labor until they die on a bleak planet, all on behalf of The Company. Yes, some of the class politics from the first two Alien movies are certainly at play here and generally handled well.

Unfortunately, however, most of the other characters are mere cannon fodder for the Xenomorphs and face huggers, which are quickly unleashed once the group’s plan goes terribly, terribly awry. There’s the ship’s pilot, Navarro (Aileen Wu), the pregnant Kay (Isabela Merced), Rain’s hunky boyfriend Tyler (Archie Renaux), and the real jerk of the lot, Bjorn (Spike Fearn). None of these actors are bad per say, but too many of them are given little to do. It’s really Spaeny and Jonsson’s performances that are the most memorable. They’re the only fully realized characters who also have quite a complex relationship. Can a machine be family? Can it even be trusted? Rain wrestles with this very question throughout the two-hour runtime.

Because of various narrative turns his character takes, Jonsson goes through quite a range of emotions that straddle hero and villain, another common trait of the franchise regarding the synthetic characters. Spaeny, meanwhile, makes a kickass final girl. No, her performance isn’t as iconic as Sigourney Weaver’s various iterations of Ripley, but that’s an unfair comparison. Spaeny handles her own well enough, and we come to care about Rain’s fate.

This is certainly the scariest Alien movie that we’ve had in some years. The Xenomorphs and face huggers, which were largely created through practical effects, are downright menacing. The ship feels confining, perilous, and suffocating, much like the first film. The sound design, especially the moments of space’s eerie silence, really enhance the suspense and that fear of the unknown.

The film’s main problem, at least throughout the first half, is that it has way, way too many nods to what Ridley Scott created in Alien and what James Cameron did with Aliens. It’s too much of a homage. The film really becomes interesting in the last act, when Alvarez manages to expand the lore and mythology in quite a creative way, while keeping on point with some of the franchise’s main themes, that being the dangers of technology, fear of the unknown, and The Company’s disregard for human life. There’s a lot going on with AI that speaks to our times, and I’ll leave it at that to avoid spoilers.

Alvarez is known for really gory scenes and sexual violence. There’s a lot of that in this film, especially in that harrowing and surprising final act. It’s at that point this truly feels like a Fede Alvraez movie and less like a tribute to the strongest two films in the franchise. He very much makes that final act his own and takes the franchise in some exciting new directions.

Alien: Romulus has plenty to enjoy, especially for long-term fans of the franchise. It operates best when it’s less a tribute to what came before and instead carves out its own path within the broader Alien universe. Alvarez crafted a horror movie through and through that’s actually scary at points. Though flawed, this is the best Alien movie we’ve had in some years.

Alien Romulus opens nationwide on Friday.