THE HIDDEN (1987)

You know what Chekhov said about a flame thrower in the first act

One Concrete Blonde song in your movie isn’t cool. You know what’s cool? Three Concrete Blonde songs.

I’m guessing that’s how the meeting went between IRS Records and New Line Cinema about The Hidden’s soundtrack, because “1987” is captured as indelibly as blood on an Armani suit in this insanely revved, body subversive flick directed by Jack Sholder.

In the post-Terminator world action films entered a boundary pushing era, no more so than The Hidden, which— along with The Hitcher and early films by Kathryn Bigelow—constitute what I call “anti-authoritarian action.” The Hidden opens with eerie security camera footage of a bank robbery committed by a normally quiet accountant, but who is really a body swapping alien criminal jumping from Los Angelino to Los Angelino.  It also turns out the alien loves fame, gender fluidity, shooting at cops, and cruising Melrose with 1980s punk cranked. Any LA transplant can relate—this town can cast a quick spell.

In pursuit is Michael Nouri, a cop partn…