A film that mines its predecessors to great effect, but fails to offer up anything new
Oh, the venerable Alien franchise. Ridley Scott’s original ’79 horror-steeped classic and its more muscular sequel Aliens from James Cameron serve as undeniable genre landmarks. Even the later sequels, which endured heavy criticism upon release, have been reappraised over time–with a bourgeoning fanbase for David Fincher’s bleak and stripped-down Alien 3 and the weirder Euro-trash vibes of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Alien: Resurrection. Scott’s return to Prometheus and Alien: Covenant admirably took the series into darker, more reflective aspects of the franchise’s mythology. We’ll hopefully see that work completed one day; for now, director Fede Álvarez (Don’t Breathe, Evil Dead ’13) delivers Alien: Romulus. It’s a film that returns to the franchise’s roots, not just in terms of its era, nestling between Scott and Cameron’s one-two punch, but in crafting a similarly resonant tone and all-too-familiar narrative.
Romulus is set in 2142, on the mining colony of Jackson’s Star: a distant and bleak outpost of the Weyland-Yutani corporation, home to several thousand humans eking out a subsistent living thanks to the contracts and quotas of their corporate overseers. Among them is Rain Carradine (Cailee Spaeny), who is desperate to find a way off-world for herself and her ‘brother’ Andy (David Jonsson), a synth reprogrammed to look after Rain despite his outdated software and impaired functionality. After another dream of escape is dashed, Rain is presented with an opportunity by a group of friends looking to chart their ship to the more idyllic surrounds of the distant system Yvaga. The only problem is that it takes 9 years to get there; however, a solution arises via a derelict Weyland-Yutani station that has fallen into the orbit of Jackson’s Star. It will burn up within 36 hours–but that window of time should be enough to get on board, salvage some cryo-pods, and set the team on their way to a better life. However, this isn’t just a simple research station: it’s actually the spearhead of Weyland-Yutani’s efforts to study the Xenomorph, efforts propelled by salvaging the creature ejected into space by Ellen Ripley decades earlier. Heist turns into horror as they find themselves caught up in the remnants of a program seeking to not just revive the Xenomorph’s lineage, but to also delve into the molecular basis of their existence.
The plot delivers the basic thrust of all Alien films: throw unsuspecting people into contact with the Xenomorphs, and let the games begin. The script from Álvarez and Rodo Sayagues pulls from parts of the franchise to create an effective pastiche that veers most closely in tone to the original than any of its other follow-ups, which for many will be a key selling point. Despite the dark fate of many involved, it’s far less nihilistic than Scott’s recent endeavors. The film excels when Álvarez’s skill at set-pieces comes to the fore, notably in sequences with defrosting face-huggers, body temperature camouflage, and a zero-gravity solution to the Xenomorph’s most innate defense mechanism. These are well-spaced to ebb and flow yet sustain a constant level of tension throughout the film. Rich and considered production design adds weight and age to the visuals. Cinematography from Galo Olivares plants us back into familiar surroundings, with plenty of impressive new vistas. Benjamin Wallfisch’s score switches from soaring orchestral pieces to discordant, throbbing synths, both evocative of past sounds from the franchise. The film well-leverages the various spaces and scenarios on offer, not just within the confines of the station but the expanse of space immediately outside. What adds to Alien: Romulus’ effectiveness is the tangibility of the production, notably with practical sets and effects (albeit with plenty of effective CGI enhancements).
This design and execution also support some excellent world-building, with Romulus offering us a portrait of humanity in this current age–and it’s frankly one of the more dire things in the film. It’s a dystopic, industrialized future, marked by the squeezing of humanity by the capitalistic drive of the Weyland-Yutani corporation. The film excels in conveying how people are a disposable resource in service of a bigger plan, and reaffirms this corporation (and their proxies) as the true villains of the Alien-verse. This dramatically propels much of the early investment in the film and its characters, but this young crew gets short shrift after the film’s setup. Archi Renaux, Isabela Merced, Spike Fearn, and Aileen Wu flesh out a supporting cast that is too poorly scripted to endear you to them and their fate. Such missing effective characterization is something that Ridley Scott (serving here as producer) excelled at in developing the motley assembly that made up the original crew of Alien‘s Nostromo, locking in audience investment as a result. In Rain and Andy, the film finds a truly effective emotional core. Jonsson (Industry, Rye Lane) is remarkable, with a character who undergoes a transformative arc that adds needed intrigue, unpredictability, and conflict to the film. Spaeny’s Rain is strong, determined, and crucially a selfless figure in a selfish world. She’s someone to root for as much as respect, as Rain demonstrates not just common sense, but a penchant for science and its problem-solving applications. Together, they truly anchor Alien: Romulus and add depth to its themes of dedication versus exploitation.
As alluded to, Alien: Romulus is packed with plenty of nostalgic nods in its callbacks via imagery and dialogue. In a way, it’s both a strength and curse, as such elements don’t add anything revelatory or progressive to the film on deeper inspection. A third act that many have already referred to as a “WTF moment” or “big swing”, is actually reminiscent of more effective ideas and events from Resurrection and Prometheus. Even with Álvarez’s reputation for stomach-churning fare, the film is rather low in terms of body counts and even feels like it pulls some punches with the kills that are there. Its final act, in particular, feels edited to dial back some of its more perturbing imagery and acts. The ramifications of this finale, notably this new “weaponization” of the Xenomorph’s genetic legacy, feel somewhat sidelined in favor of another boss battle where the villain is frankly rather clunkily realized. The most egregious aspect of the film comes from a creative choice to digitally resurrect a deceased actor from the original film. This isn’t just a cameo, but an ongoing key component to deliver exposition and drive the film onward. The result is ethically dubious, downright distasteful, and from a sheer technical point of view, looks quite bad. In a way, this creative choice is perhaps emblematic of the larger issue with the film: it’s another look to the past, rather than the future. Planting a new face, one that could cast a new imprint on the series and recur in future guises, could have been a smarter play. Even with these missteps in mind, it’s hard to deny Romulus is damn effective, a gnarly blend of small-scale horror and expansive sci-fi. Hopefully, its success may lead to a bigger creative swing in this freaky sandbox of a franchise.
Alien Romulus hits theaters on August 16th
