A Valentine's Day Poem -- by Kyle Reese

What is it about Valentine's day that makes me care?
Why, the mother of an as-yet unborn rebel leader in 1984
Oh how do I love thee?
Let me count the deaths
I'd travel back in time as your protector
From a ruthless cyborg
Based only on a Polaroid of you
Just like a 13-year-old girl thinks she loves a Backstreet Boy

Maybe I should go for a simpler one? (throat clearing sound)

Reds are red
Violets are blue
The Terminator absolutely will not stop
Until you are dead

Ohhhhhh... what's the use?! All anyone seems to remember about The Terminator is just that -- that maddening cyborg who accomplishes nothing but carnage! Please. It spouts off only a handful of monosyllabic Austrian-accented lines and all in all, tallies up screen time that amounts to roughly 15 minutes total.

Yeah, I know, I'm just a grunt, what do I know? But listen. Understand. Give credit where credit it due. What about us? Rarely do people credit that The Terminator is really a human love story about how Sarah Connor and myself, Kyle Reese, are forced to survive together. Poor Sarah must come to grips with the awesome knowledge that she is going to conceive the world's saviour of the future. Not an easy thing to deal with, let me assure you. Nor is my character's job to explain the 'what', 'whys' and 'hows' of every fantastic, unfolding event and emotion to the audience... while constantly being chased!

Did you ever see either of us onscreen in the daylight for more than a few minutes? Always in these dark, smoky atmospheres, sleepless nights watching out for that metallic sack of shit. Our situation, the imminently bleak future, the pain of war and time travel? Life is tough. We were lucky to find hope and love between the two of us. As it turns out, lucky for the survival of every human on this planet, thank you very much.

So, in honour of Valentine's Day, I recommend you go out and rent our love story. Hey, I sacrificed my love with Sarah for the sake of a greater cause (i.e. thermonuclear war), didn't I? It's just like Casablanca only a little more violent, that's all.

Note to Reader: In 1986, an impressionable eight-year-old girl named Julie had an older brother who, for some mysterious reason, decided to tape a portion of The Terminator onto the videotape headcleaner for their VCR. For years, she lived in terror, having to watch Arnold Schwarzenegger aim an infrared light on Linda Hamilton's forehead, then proceed to massacre the patrons of a sleazy bar for about 10 minutes until the VCR heads were clean. Many nightmares arose from this experience. Unfortunately, her parents never put any money aside for therapy. Hence, the schizophrenic compulsion to write in the 1st person (bad poetry included) as fictional movie characters...

DROOL FACTOR: Michael Biehn -- no explanation needed. But if men who are built like a brick shithouse are what get your panties in a bunch, then the Terminator himself might be desirable. Of course, this would be at the beginning of the film (nice night for a walk, indeed) before he gouges out an eye and has his hair and brows burnt off.

GROSS-OUT FACTOR: Eyeball operations, guttings, massive gunshot wounds. What else would do you expect from a movie called The Terminator?

STRONG CHICK FACTOR: You know you've got a well-rounded character when she starts off as a clutzy, nobody diner waitress and convincingly develops into a tenacious mom-to-be who annihilates the villain on her very own. Sarah Connor ranks up there as one of the greatest genre heroines of all time, after Ellen Ripley. After all, doesn't "You're terminated, fucker!" rank about as high as "Get away from her, you bitch!" on the crowd-pleasing scale? Oh, Jim Cameron -- you do your best stuff with that mother-complex of yours.

-- Julie Ng

The Terminator is currently available on video and DVD.

We welcome your comments on The 11th Hour and this review. Please send letters to: letters@the11thhour.com