This week I strapped on my seat belt and pressed play on Commando (1985). By the time the movie was done, I realised what I needed was a bulletproof vest.
Commando is a deliciously absurd action romp that’s less a movie and more a fireworks display with biceps. The background score is so unapologetically ’80s, you’ll want to dust off your Walkman and crank the volume until your mullet grows back. Every explosion and chase feels like it’s choreographed to a keytar solo, and it’s pure, cheesy bliss. Everything is so gloriously ’80s, you half expect the movie to show up wearing leg warmers and a mullet, blasting you into a montage of explosions and biceps flexing in perfect harmony. Every scene feels like it’s one saxophone riff away from a Miami Vice episode, and I’m here for it.
Then there are the one-liners, delivered by Arnold Schwarzenegger’s John Matrix with the gravitas of a man who’s just discovered the English language and decided to weaponize it. “I have to remind you, Sully, this is my weak arm!” he growls, before tossing a bad guy like a discarded dumbbell. Or the iconic, “Let off some steam, Bennett!”—a line so perfectly cheesy it should be served with nachos. Each quip lands like a punch, equal parts groan-worthy and legendary, making you wonder if the scriptwriter was paid in puns. These zingers are so gloriously corny, they deserve their own stand-up special.
I mean, you just don’t watch Commando for nuance; you watch it for Arnie turning English into a contact sport.
The plot? Oh, it’s a flimsy excuse to blow stuff up, and it knows it. Arnold’s daughter (a young Alyssa Milano) is kidnapped by a villain with a chainmail fetish, and that’s all the motivation Matrix needs to mow down an army, destroy a mansion, and probably violate several international laws. Bennet, Matrix’s ex-colleague who looks like he has unfinished appraisal discussions with his ex-manager, is commanded in turn by a villain who looks like he shops at “Dictators ‘R’ Us.
The story is just a clothesline to hang explosions on. Why does he carry a rocket launcher in his duffel bag? Because he’s John Matrix, and “because” is the only explanation you need. Why is there a secret army base in a mall? Who cares! The story is just a conveyor belt for carnage, delivering set pieces so over-the-top that you know Commando isn’t here to make sense—it’s here to make you cheer when a jeep flips in slow motion.
And then there’s Rae Dawn Chong as Cindy, the flight attendant who gets roped into Matrix’s chaos like she accidentally wandered into the wrong movie. With her feathered hair and wide-eyed “what is happening” energy, she’s the perfect foil to Arnie’s stoic killing machine. Cindy starts as a damsel who screams at the sight of a rocket launcher but ends up firing one like she’s auditioning for Rambo: The Musical. Chong’s charm lies in her ability to sell the lunacy—whether she’s hot-wiring a car or sassing bad guys, she’s the bubbly, human heartbeat in this explosion-fest. Her chemistry with Arnie is like pairing a firecracker with a tank, and somehow, it works.
Commando is a frothy, ridiculous joyride that knows exactly what it is: a love letter to excess, served with a side of grenade launchers and a gallon of rocket fuel. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a protein shake spiked with Red Bull, and I’d rewatch it faster than you can say “I’m not leaving you!”
Before the carnage started, Arnold was a loving father who lived in tune with nature. Too bad the bad guys chose him for the job. A mission he claims he was forced to undertake – but seems only too willing to savour fully!
The Reluctant Book Worm 
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