Prey (1977)

aka Alien Prey, The Destructer
Dir. Norman J. Warren

What if the alien from Under the Skin walked out of that movie and into a Lifetime Original about a dysfunctional lesbian couple? And was also a handsome British man instead of Scarlett Johansson. Prey (aka Alien Prey), that’s what if.

A carnivorous alien being named Kator lands in the English countryside on some sort of reconnaissance mission from his home planet and assumes the identity of an unfortunate lug called Anders. Very shortly after he is taken into the home of the naive, free-spirited Jessica and her domineering, jealousy-prone partner Josephine, who assume the man to be lost and injured. Jessica welcomes the prospect of a new man in her isolated life while Jo is immediately wary and hostile toward the stranger, because all lesbians either just a). need a good dicking, or b). hate all men entirely.  Soon Anders/Kator’s presence begins drive a wedge between the two lovers, as Jo becomes more and more angrily unhinged, at multiple times brandishing a comically large switchblade, and Jessica becomes more and more aware of her partner’s abusive tendencies, and paranoid that Jo might be hiding something sinister. 

There’s not a whole lot of alien action in this movie. We only see Anders in his alien form a few times and most of the deaths are off screen. So if you’re looking for gore and carnage, this isn’t the movie for you. In fact, the entire alien plot is kind of incidental. If not for Anders, this would be a movie about two lesbian lovers learning to hate each other. If you want to look deeper, the film has some things to say about gender politics and the predatory nature of masculinity, but these hypotheses are vague at best. Where the film really shines is in the little moments of weirdness, the lapses in logic where you wonder why these women respond so nonchalantly to Anders behavior. 

For instance, Anders mostly bumbles around and vacantly stares at people Dougie Jones-style, answering each question asked of him with a single word response pulled from the question he was just asked. After this happens multiple times, you’d think Jessica or Jo would shake him and ask him what his fucking problem is, but naturally they chalk it up as a character quirk, perhaps picked up from the mental institution from which they presume he escaped. Jessica might call for assistance getting him recommitted, but Jo doesn’t allow her to use the phone. Go figure. 

Another episode sees Anders help the women hunt the fox that they believe killed their chickens, despite the fact that they are vegetarians who believe you can’t appreciate the inner beauty of life if you choose to kill animals for sustenance. I suppose revenge killings are ok though. When all hope of catching the fox is lost, Anders wanders off and returns (minutes?) (hours?) later, plopping a fox carcass on a table in front of the women to win Jo’s favor. And it fucking works! It works so well that they decide to throw a party for the three of them. Jo tries to emasculate Anders by putting him in a dress and make-up, but it doesn’t work because Anders doesn’t understand such human contrivances as gender. Or plants. Or water. 

Melodramatic weirdness like this permeates the entirety of this slow burn chiller, building tension until it goes off the rails in the final ten minutes, where the logical (maybe) conclusion is reached and patient viewers are rewarded with the exploitative goodies they crave. But in the case of Prey, it’s not about the destination. It’s about the journey, discovering a treasury of little, low-key what? moments in place of the explosive insanity of more kinetic b-movie fare. And it’s all the better for it.

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