Starring
Sigourney Weaver, Tom Skerritt, Veronica Cartright, Yaphet Kotto,
John Hurt, Harry Dean Stanton, Ian Holm. Directed by Ridley Scott.
(1979, 117 min).
Essay
by D.M. ANDERSON
My
youngest daughter, Lucy, and I recently exited the theater after watching
Alien Covenant, the sixth film in the ongoing franchise (sorry, kids, the scrotum-sucking AvP movies don't count). We concurred that, while well made and certainly an enjoyable
night at the movies, there was nothing particularly special about
Alien Covenant. In fact, we both enjoyed the recent Alien
rip-off, Life, a bit more. Perhaps because our expectations
weren't as lofty for that one, or just maybe, facehuggers &
chestbursters have lost most of their luster over the years.
As
hard as it might be to fathom today, Ridley Scott's original 1979
film was really unprecedented. The plot may have directly ripped off a forgotten cheapie from 1958 (It! The Terror from Beyond
Space), but Alien was so atmospheric, unpredictable, scary-as-fuck and
shocking that it became a cinema milestone. In an
era when the likes of Spielberg & Lucas had us cooing over any
cuddly creature hailing from another world, here was one
that was vicious, loaded with teeth, almost indestructible and
existed for the sole purpose of slaughtering anything with a pulse.
The film's infamous "birth" scene is as iconic as the first
shark attack in Jaws and as
unexpected as Marion Crane's death in Psycho.
Back in '79, watching
that scene for the first time in a theater with a couple of buddies,
we knew we were in for something bad when Kane (John Hurt) started
choking and convulsing at the dinner table. After all, a nasty,
acid-blooded spidercrab had recently attached itself to his face and
shoved a slimy phallus down his throat, which was horrific
enough. But even that didn't prepare the audience for what
came next, when the most awful creature in horror history exploded
from Kane's chest, showering his stunned crewmates in blood. I
jumped from my seat and screamed, sending popcorn flying.
The entire theater did. The last time I experienced a collective
scream of that magnitude was when the shark in Jaws popped
from the water to say hello to Martin Brody. One lady even ran from
the theater, hand clasped tightly over her mouth. Back then,
absolutely nobody saw this scene coming. Anyone claiming
otherwise was lying their ass off.
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| Yes, John Hurt recently dined at Chipotle. |
But
Alien's disturbingly imaginative concept is really terrifying only once, like losing your virginity. You simply can't do it
again and expect the same visceral experience you had the first time. James Cameron knew this, which is why he went the
sci-fi-action route with his sequel, Aliens, the only film in
the franchise as highly regarded as the first, and justifiably so.
Every sequel afterwards was simply more of the same. Decades later,
not even Ridley Scott himself could think to do anything more
creative than make origin stories, which our beloved xenomorphs
absolutely do not need. Sure, Prometheus and Alien
Covenant are interesting, but what made these critters truly
terrifying in the first place was their simple
malevolence and horrifying method of reproduction. Giving them a
history sort of demystifies their existence.
On
the plus side, I must shoot some kudos Scott's way for bringing back
one element of realism that's been missing from the franchise
for a long time, which my daughter was sharp enough to point out.
Referring to an early scene in Alien Covenant when a character decides to poke a bulbous object that releases
microscopic, body-invading spores when disturbed, she remarked, "Why would he
poke it? How could anyone visiting an alien world be that stupid?"
A
good point, to be sure, but foolishly fucking with something strange is a time-honored sci-fi trope. In
the original Alien, when Kane first ventures into the bowels
of a derelict spaceship and sees thousands of eggs, the very first
thing he decides to do is touch one, without pausing to ponder if that's a good idea. As he learns the hard way, it turns out to
be a truly shitty idea. In fact, in the entire history of
sci-fi films, not once has touching, poking or prodding a
foreign object ever ended well, be it an egg, meteor, puddle
of slime, pulsating orb, sexy alien babe or something swimming in a
petri dish.
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| Free hugs! |
But
what makes scenes like this effective is what they say about the
human condition. More than a simple plot device, Kane's first
encounter with the egg is arguably the most realistic scene in the
entire film. For all its grandeur and existential ideas, Scott's
first prequel, Prometheus, was sometimes criticized for featuring some
idiotic characters, most notably two dumbasses who try to
touch a slimy, eel-like creature as though they're visiting a
petting zoo. Yeah, it's a fatally dumb decision, but one that accurately
reflects real human behavior...more specifically, male behavior.
In movies, it's no accident that the character who chooses the hands-on approach
is almost always a guy, usually an arrogant or cocky one.
Early
in our marriage and not exactly rolling in cash, my wife, Francie,
and I celebrated an anniversary by camping. Growing up in a family
whose idea of a good time is to be outdoors, this was her
fucking idea. For a city boy like myself, roughing-it means staying in a
hotel without cable TV. But I was young, in love and willing to
attempt survival without the conveniences which make life tolerable.
So, armed with a tent, sleeping bags and sunblock, we ventured to a
nearby campsite in Eastern Washington.
For
those who picture the Pacific Northwest as a mountainous wooded
wonderland, that's only west of the Cascades (where I grew up). Most
of eastern Washington (Francie's old stomping ground) is as flat, hot and dry as Tatooine.
It's bad enough driving through this barren wasteland; camping
there is an exercise in masochism.
On
one of these blistering days, we decided to take a walk. While
crossing a field, we noticed something scurrying through
the grass about twenty feet ahead. Thinking it might be a snake or
something, Francie wisely exercised caution. I, on the other hand,
did what any full-functioning male of my species would do in the same situation: look around for
something to poke it with.
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| These friendly critters just love to play. |
Armed
with a small stick, I stealthily approached and proceeded to tap the
critter into action. Suddenly, a noisy, quivering tail stuck
straight up through the grass. It wasn't just a snake, but a
rattlesnake and none-too-pleased with my company. I dropped
the stick and ran, squealing like petrified piglet. The damn thing
chased me about ten feet before giving up (angry snakes are a lot
faster than I once thought). I suppose I was lucky because we were
practically in the middle of nowhere. If I'd been bitten, no way
could Francie have hauled my dumb ass to the nearest ER.
What
did I learn from this self-instigated encounter with the dark side of
nature? Not a damned thing. Given the chance, I'd probably do it
again, albeit with a much bigger stick.
That's
how most guys are wired. The compulsion to disturb something potentially
dangerous is part of our DNA. Sure, we'll whack that hornet's nest! Hey, let's chase that skunk, lick that toad and taunt the neighbor's
pitbull! Don't worry, honey, that venomous reptile
can't hurt me! I'm armed with a twig!
What's
the worst that can happen?
Perhaps
when we laugh at those dumbasses in sci-fi movies who stupidly play around
with something they don't understand, guys in the audience are really laughing at themselves. After all, the funniest jokes are those with an element of
truth to them. So when Kane seals his fate by messing with an alien
egg, it's more than a simple story contrivance. In each of the Alien
films he's directed, Ridley Scott taps into the male psyche and shows
us human instinct in action.
Rewatching
the original Alien with Lucy a few days later, she made
another quip about never poking stuff in space. Since it's never
boded well for any character in movie history, it's an acute
observation. However, if I were in Kane's shoes, I must admit I'd
still probably do the same thing.
But I'd look around for a big-ass stick
first.
