In “The Thing” (1982), John Carpenter doesn’t simply revive the alien-invasion narrative—he infects it. The film festers in its own paranoia, turning the genre inside out, stitching together a vision of horror that is less about the arrival of the other than the collapse of the self. On top of that, the movie is so much fun, and it still holds up well. Part of this has to do with the ample tension in the film—the story is on another level—and the practical effects have stood the test of time.

The film opens in the blinding white desolation of Antarctica. A dog runs across the ice, pursued by a Norwegian helicopter, shot at, and hunted. The Americans at Outpost 31 take the dog in, unknowingly inviting in something ancient and formless, something which does not kill to survive—it imitates. From there, the narrative dissolves into a study in suspicion.