The machines rose from the ashes of the nuclear fire

“It can’t be bargained with, can’t reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear, and it absolutely will not stop, ever… until you are dead!”

There was a time in the eighties when technology and our fears became one. The Cold War was at its peak, and supercomputers were used to control nuclear defense systems. Mankind had entrusted its fate to machines.

It was during this time that an aspiring filmmaker was recuperating from illness. Bedridden, the young man had a feverish nightmare. Waking with a fright and drenched in sweat, an image had burned into his mind. A paradoxical vision: a metallic skeleton rising from the flames.

The image stayed in the young man’s mind, troubling him in its implications. A skeleton made of metal was technologically impossible. Its anachronistic appearance could only be explained in one way:

It hadn’t yet been invented.

It was this image, borne of a manic fever dream, which gave birth to one of the finest movies ever made. Also, the movie contains one of the greatest cinematic villains of all time: The Terminator.

Such was the film’s impact, that most people now know the story even if they haven’t seen the film. In addition, the movie has been paid homage to, stolen from and blatantly ripped off by many, many others. Being so famous, an analysis of the film borders on redundant. However, watching the film through a specific lens results in a rich experience for film fans.

To do so, before watching, imagine an alternate timeline:

It’s 1984 and you are watching The Terminator for the first time.

In our present. Tonight…

Neon streaks of laser fire pierce the darkened sky and spotlights hover over a sea of crushed skulls. In the darkness, human figures scurry through the ruins of civilization. A synth score slowly infiltrates the scene as the opening text appears:

The theme begins to play: dark, powerful drums, combined with thin metallic lines. The lines cross, bisect and glide across the screen, suggesting networks, circuitry, and timelines. The score is grim and foreboding, an omen of things to come. At the same time however, there is something identifiable within the theme, distinguishable by its familiar rhythm – a heartbeat. Within the darkness, there’s a pulse, a defiant existence, beating against the destruction we saw on screen.

As the title fades into the darkness we are primed to enter this battle for the future, tonight.

In the first shot, monstrous looking machinery turns out to be under the control of a garbage man, clearing trash. We are in 1984, a period of budding technology and social upheaval. A precipice of human potential and nuclear Armageddon.

After an electrical disturbance, a humanoid figure appears, posed in a semi fetal manner. Parallels can be drawn with birth, however the muscular build of the figure indicates something beyond human.

As the monstrous figure scans its surroundings, its eyes show a detached coolness. There is something beneath the surface which is unsettling, evidenced by the slow, methodical gait as it looks over the city. Though it resembles a human, it barely passes for one.

“Wash day tomorrow, nothing clean, right?”

As it stands over the circuit-board like vista of Los Angeles, we are left to wonder at its purpose and abilities. These abilities are soon demonstrated on an unfortunate trio of street punks. As the group mocks the naked figure, we get a sense of what is happening within its head. It repeats the words of the mohawked punk, answering in the affirmative.

“Nothing clean, right.”

This indicates calibration in process – real time adaptation to twentieth century communication. The failure to detect sarcasm shows a distinct lack of familiarity with human interaction. In an ironic twist, it’s the punks’ failure to detect this inhumanity which leads to their doom.

The punks are dealt with in clinically brutal fashion. We watch in horror as the naked figure rips out a man’s heart with its bare hands.

If it wasn’t obvious before, there can now be no doubt. This is a killing machine, the eponymous Terminator.

As an aside, it’s worth noting that one of the punks is the late, great Bill Paxton, a regular in James Cameron’s films, but also a standout in any film he appeared in, from Weird Science (1985) to Frailty (2001).

Back to the urban hell that is Los Angeles in 1984. We see wet streets, battered shutters and worn down buildings. The helicopter sounds overhead draw a parallel to the flying machines of the future and the wail of police sirens substitute the shrill sounds of laser blasts.

The warzone of the future is already here, it’s just the machines that are missing.

In what is essentially the toilet of the city, we hear the drunken ramblings of a homeless man. He is the sole witness to a second electrical disturbance.

This arrival is the polar opposite of the one we saw earlier. Instead of a spotless and muscle bound figure, we get a wiry and scarred weakling, landing with an unceremonious thud on the filthy pavement.

There is a strong feeling of vulnerability in this arrival. As the figure stands, we see fear and hesitation. These emotion are more familiar to us than the certain, silent menace displayed earlier. As this figure moves, we see him wincing, in pain, disoriented, and protective of his naked body. Whoever this is, he is all too human. Should these two travelers collide, the result will not be in this man’s favor.

The police arrive to investigate the disturbance, leading to a chase. As the man flees, we see the city through from his emotional state. A nightmarish place: dark, confusing and unwelcoming.

During the traveler’s subsequent escape, we see him don the clothing of the time to blend in. A notable point here is that the traveler steals a shotgun from the police car. This brings up an intriguing question – in the future we could see that society was ruined, so how does this man have knowledge of prewar society?

Most likely the information was passed down to later generations by survivors of the apocalypse, stories of the world before the war.

After looking through the phone book, the man’s finger stops on an unremarkable name: Sarah Connor.

It’s here that we meet the main female character. A student, going to work at a burger joint, completely unrelated to the events witnessed earlier.

We see her struggling at work, messing up several food orders. Her colleague offers a conciliatory perspective to counter her exasperation:

Colleague:“In 100 years, who’s gonna care?”

This line is dismissive, almost nihilistic. However, this is a world in which time travel is possible, making the idea resonate with a deeper meaning. This moment marks the exact point that tension begins to build, resulting in one of the greatest buildups of suspense ever put on screen.