Aliens attack! The menacing creatures dominate the newly released War of the Worlds. In recent years the Hollywood film alien has become a cliche: no creature from another planet is complete without a grotesque skull structure and long, thin octopus-like legs. They drag earthlings skywards in the tired abduction scenes. It is occasionally terrifying; generally trite.
I can only sigh at times like these. How can the movie industry produce such unimaginative drivel? It is the complete opposite of what I want to see on screen.
As for me, I've made up my mind: I will seize the first chance I get to surrender to alien captors, even if I end up a bloodless, drained sack of flesh. Please pick me! I pledge to co-operate to the utmost with any and all distinguished visitors from space.
I see comparatively little incentive for remaining on Earth. The mundane quality of this world leaves me in the doldrums. So come for me, little green men! The volunteer you seek is right here with open arms. I wait, perhaps like a fool, for you to come and help me realise my secret ambition.
After the 1898 H.G. Wells novel by the same name, and the thrillingly realistic 1938 Orson Welles broadcast of it, War of the Worlds has its most terrible - in every sense - incarnation in today's special-effects-driven, big-budget Hollywood production. With each interpretation, the intentions of these foreign creatures seem to become more and more ludicrous and irrational.
Now, alien animosity knows no bounds. The viewer is buffeted by scenes of aliens using human blood for irrigation and pulverising crowds with hi-tech weapons. You get the impression that there is a long and bloody history of unmediated hatred between humans and aliens. The hero, played by Tom Cruise, is righteously indignant on behalf of our entire species, shouting above the cacophony of thunder, fire and rain: 'This is not war; this is extermination!' The viewer can conclude only that the aliens have a single goal: to kill us all.