Alligator (1980)

Fight me if you must, but in some ways, the children of Jaws (1975) are better, more fun and even more resonant, namely Piranha (1978) and this near-perfect schlocker, both written by the legendary John Sayles. (As great as his Oscar-nominated Passion Fish (1992) was, it wishes it were this good.)

The film opens with an alligator wrestler getting mauled…although only astute little Marisa Kendall (played as an adult by Robin Riker as a proto Dana Scully) seems to recognize the blood is real. But the actual horror begins with a creepy park worker selling baby alligators. Marisa buys one, names it Ramón and gives him a charming rainbow-pebbled aquarium to live in… which seems completely inappropriate with its lack of food and water to drink or swim in. Oh, and then her father decides to flush him down the toilet (non Rebecca Gayheart) urban legend-style, while also revealing that the child’s hamsters may have suffered a similar fate.

This indifference of basically all humans to the cruelty they inflict on animals, both casually and very much otherwise, is a theme that runs throughout the film, like the ridges down a gator’s back. For example, a major subplot involves pet dogs being stolen, experimented on and then having their mutagen-laden corpses conveniently dumped in the sewer. For me, Alligator’s most haunting and effective moment has nothing to do with its titular star. Instead, it’s when our hero cop David Madison (Robert Forster) visits the lab and hears how the caged “lab animals” (literally adorable pound puppies) have their larynxes cut to quiet them. Close up on a gray little Benji, struggling to bark. Fuck, that’s moving.

But Alligator is spikier than a straightforward story of wronged nature achieving karmic justice on humanity (although it definitely has one scaly foot in this camp). I am fascinated by the limits to its compassion toward animals. None of the dogs are saved or even mentioned again; the adult herpetologist Marisa never discovers that the giant gator used to be wee Ramón, nor does she as a scientist and reptile lover advocate for saving rather than killing him. And how does the film end? With another lil’ scaly baby flushed down the toilet, blinking tiny and alone and probably doomed in the darkness of its new sewer home.

There’s something kind of bracing, refreshing even, about Alligator’s refusal to tie these things up in a bow as it barrels toward a finale that makes less sense the further and faster it goes. And I love it. I mean, sure, you have to have the “you’re off the force!” scene, and the “uppity British ‘great white hunter’ gets his” scene and, of course, the “gator crashes a wedding, eats a maid and then nibbles the evil scientist and his boss for dessert” scene. Awesome stuff and it goes down with verve, kind of like the squealing child tossed into a swimming pool. (We see your Alex Kintner, Miss Spielberg, and raise you a Diving Board Donald!)

And best of all is the aforementioned Forster, who fills every scene with more charisma, star power and offbeat character choices that had me rewinding almost all of his scenes just to admire what he was doing. (Not to mention how he was looking…who can blame Ramón for wanting to get a taste?! And do not miss the moment where he plays off a reaction shot from a plastic alligator… he’s incredible.) This is one of the best and most charming horror movie performances of all time, so good, really, that it’s almost forgivable that the film seriously shortchanges Riker. Almost, but not quite. In an ideal world, the spotlight would have remained firmly on Marisa.

It’s a testament to how great this movie is that despite that major flaw, it’s still one of the most fun experiences to be had in the entire genre… and maybe even in all of filmdom. (Plus, it has to have inspired the cult classic kids’ book, The Two-Thousand-Pound Goldfish, by Betsy Byars.) Most of all, in the cinematic pantheon of killer animals, Ramón deserves to be remembered with as much fondness as Jaws him and herself—our gator has the style to not only send a terrified bride and several guests tumbling into a swimming pool, but also flicks his tail to flip one unlucky fellow through a wedding cake. No notes. No crumbs. No better time than now to watch. 4.5 out of 5 sacs of blood.

—Jonathan Riggs