They Live is an atrociously bad "sci-fi horror" adaptation of Ray Nelson's Eight O'Clock in the Morning. But I'm not reviewing it because it's bad, nor because it's made after some short story, no; I'm reviewing it since it's a. a very good opportunity to dive into 1980s Hollywood, and b. leaving aside the poor artistic representation, it gets it somewhat, and in a deeper sense than other dystopias managed to. And also, I confess, because I enjoy the red-pilled fun.
As to the first reason, I find They Live to be quite similar to, and certainly no worse than other 1980s B movies, such as, say, Terminator. Moan all you like about AI, but mechanized, that is, by-the-recipe film production was a thing back in 1984 just like it was in 1988, just like it fucking is today; the only difference is in scale and stupid CG, I guess. But other than that, you have the same trope with the lone hero who comes down to the city and starts wreaking havoc, as well as the femme fatale, the helpful sidekick, as well as the usual catchphrase a la Hasta La Bubblegum. The rest is social commentary that delves deep into the view of 1980s problems: the steel manufacturing industry was coming to an end and folks were moving into construction; the so-called "business" man gave his condescendent look to the oh-so-poor worker whom the communist couldn't "help" over on that side of the ocean. To all this add the salvation trope, where all that's needed for things to turn good for everyone is a good wake-up call.
This whole agitprop is great mainly because it shows precisely how the so-called American dream got to crumble, namely through a slow process of self-devoration, which is what all things aspiring to singularity tend to do anyway. The reptilian, as alien as it looks, is just a metaphor for whatever lies across the class divide -- i.e. if you give a peasant magical glasses, how else do you think they'd view the problems of kings other than... well, alien stuff? The motif of "reality glasses" strikes deep because really, glasses work quite the other way around: they filter things, and thusly they remove detail instead of adding anything there that wasn't present. Which makes the "special hypnosis" emitter another metaphor, this time for whatever things that you use to keep yourself distracted while life passes you by.
Which brings us to the second part of this piece. They Live has a few moments when it pendulates between discourse and meta-discourse. For example:
Frank: What do these things want and why are they here?
Gilbert: It's in their best interests, they're free enterprisers. The Earth is just another developing planet -- their third world.
Commentator (on TV): We are like a natural resource to them. Deplete the planet; move on to another. They want benign indifference; they want us drunk; we could be pets; we could be food; but all we really are is livestock.
Notice the implicits? "Their" third world, as in: "we" are the righteous masters of the world and "we" are supposed to "develop" it, but then when "we" are on the receiving side of "development", oh boy, we do not like that! which can be interpreted either as hypocrisy or cynicism, either way a true acknowledgment to the fact that nowadays you either exploit or you're being exploited, with naught else between.
But anyway, let's also hear what the other side has to say:
Collaborator: Wait boys, wait. You're making a big mistake.
Frank: You made the mistake.
Collaborator: No, you gotta listen to me. I thought you boys understood. It's business, that's all it is.
Collaborator (panting): You still don't get it, do you, boys? There ain't no countries anymore -- no more good guys. They're running the whole show! They own everything, the whole goddamn planet, they can do whatever they want! What's wrong with having it good for a change? Now they're gonna let us have it good if we just help them. They're gonna leave us alone, let's make some money. You can have a little taste o' that good life too now. I know you want it -- hell, everybody does.
Frank: You do it to your own kind.
Collaborator: What's the threat? We all sell out every day, might as well be on the winning team.
If this is not a message from ye ole Hollywood that you'd be watching their shit all the way into 2025, I don't know what is. You heard the man: they're the ones who are running the business, so heavens forbid you dare to hold on to a private stash of incorrect films. And hey, if you work hard enough, they'll help you get some cash too, and some skin in the game to go along with it. Fucking hell, no one needed any aliens to get this implemented.
So there you go. A pain to watch, but it made some interesting points.