In space, even playing 'Whack-a-mole' can make you scream. — Photos: 20th Century Fox
THE beauty of the Alien franchise is that it has always allowed room for distinctive filmmakers to play with their own aesthetics and themes.
Ridley Scott’s taut, philosophical space-thriller Alien gave way to the sweaty, militarized machismo of James Cameron’s Aliens. David Fincher brought industrial Soviet aesthetics and psychosexual tension from his Madonna music videos to the stylish Alien 3 (though he disavowed his directorial debut); even the darkly whimsical French auteur Jean-Pierre Jeunet put his quirky stamp on Alien Resurrection, before Scott returned for the bloody, brooding prequels Prometheus and Alien: Covenant.
With Don’t Breathe and Evil Dead (2013) director Fede Alvarez at the helm of Alien: Romulus, it’s then no surprise that his version is a contained slasher flick drenched in goopy viscera, in which a group of scrappy youths are hunted down by an unknowable monster.
Written by Alvarez and Rodo Sayagues, the screenplay for Alien: Romulus is ruthlessly efficient while touching down on recognisable themes from the series: pregnancy, feminine strength, and the clash between human and artificial intelligence.
One could argue that Alien movies are like pizza – they’re good even when they’re not so great, and aside from a few head-scratching choices that will no doubt inspire reams of think pieces, Alien: Romulus, with its thrilling tactility and appealingly plucky cast, is a very enjoyable pie.
'For the love of Ripley, why couldn't they give me a power loader?'
Cailee Spaeny steps into Ellen Ripley’s Reeboks as our heroine, Rain, who only wants one thing, to see the sun. She’s trying to make her way off the Jackson Mining Colony with her brother, a synthetic, or droid, named Andy (David Jonsson) and transfer to the farming planet of Yvaga.
But the corporation keeps moving the goalposts, and she hasn’t fulfilled her quota of hours in the mine. Knowing that the company will never do right by her, she joins up with a group of friends to scavenge for cryopods in a rogue Weyland-Yutani ship floating overhead, in hopes they can make their way to Yvaga themselves.
A group of teens robbing a seemingly deserted house, unaware of what dangers await them? This sounds a lot like Don’t Breathe. Naturally, the Weyland-Yutani ship, recently ravaged by the events of Alien, is crawling with facehuggers and xenomorphs, and the friends are separated and picked off, impossible decisions are made, and all manner of unholy creatures come bursting forth from various bodily cavities.
You should be glad I don't actually play a character named David here...
At the center of the story is the relationship between Rain and Andy. She wrestles with the idea of leaving him behind when considering their plans, but then a security upgrade to his software, which allows him to access different parts of the ship (with two halves named for Romulus and Remus, the twins of Rome), reboots him into something colder and more calculating. Initially programmed by Rain’s late father to do what’s best for her (and tell dad jokes), Andy’s new directive becomes finishing the mission for the company.
This doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Andy comes under the sway of a very persuasive new character left behind from the previous massacre, a chewed-up, half-destroyed synthetic called Rook, with a surprisingly familiar appearance. With a performance constructed from a voice actor and facial scans, Alvarez has brought back to life a memorable but deceased actor from Alien. It's a decision that nags at you, especially given Alvarez’s commitment to practical sets, and the fantastic stand-out performance from Jonsson, which alternates between wounded puppy dog and dryly shrewd corporate proxy.
Call me Predator again, I dare you.
There are other surface pleasures to enjoy in Alien: Romulus, including the stunningly rich cinematography by Galo Olivares, the scuffed-up and worn practical sets lit with glowing reds, shiny with extraterrestrial mucus. Benjamin Wallfisch’s score keens and groans ominously, sometimes dipping into synthy electronic moments.
At the center is Spaeny as Rain, the locus of feminine intelligence. Her empathy complicates things, but her ability to read and interpret situations bests any synthetic calculation. Short, compact and young, Spaeny does not convey the lithe power of Sigourney Weaver or Katherine Waterston, nor the steeliness of Noomi Rapace, who have all taken up weapons against the xenomorphs in past Alien films.
But Alvarez gives Spaeny her hero moments, whether in her care of her comrades or destroying an invasive species, and she expresses the inner strength and utter determination to survive required of an Alien franchise heroine. Sometimes, that demonstration of sheer humanity and grit is all that’s required to make one of these films sing. – Tribune News Service
Summary:
A new space to scream in.
