The film even has its teenage sexbomb strip down to her underwear as a form of exploitative fanservice. It is very clearly aimed at the lowest common denominator. Instead, this sequel aspires to mine the clichés of generic teenage slasher victims, rendering the Alien and Predator monsters to little more than pop culture jokes – laying them as low as Freddie Krueger or Jason Voorhees. It was, in the derisive words of James Cameron, a spiritual successor to Frankenstein meets the Wolfman, but those films have a sort of a cheesy vintage prestige to them. That’s not to suggest that the first film wasn’t a shallow soulless cliché-fest, but at least it confined its clichés to more traditional monster movies.
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