AlienThis is not a tale of the majesty of space exploration, of the miracle of travel spanning light years. This is the story of the dark, the terror that lurks in the unknown, the cold, hard claw of death all around in the vacuum, away from the comforts and safety of Mother Earth. There is no romanticism of any kind in Ridley Scott's Alien; quite the contrary, there is the ubiquitous feeling of grime and grit to the surroundings on the commercial space freighter, the Nostromo, as if any preconceived notions of the glory of extraterrestial adventures have long since given way to a patina of oil stains, a residue of rust and rot.
|
|
To me, this is always the most stand out detail of Alien; that is not to diminish the other great features of the film, but I've always liked that the setting has the overwhelming verisimilitude of an oil rig that just happens to float through the stars. It is operated by seven workers--not adventurers with misty eyes about space, but contractors for a mining corporation--who spend their first morning up after deep sleep bickering about their commission or joking about the bad food. They are amicable enough together, but keep one another at arm's length for the most part, a professional distance--no deep interpersonal relationships appear. A conversation between warrant officer Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) and the captain, Dallas (Tom Skerritt) suggests that they have done these kind of flights together, but there's no sentimentality between them, nor any nostalgia for any "good old days". I suppose a spaceship--like a forklift, for instance--loses its appeal when they all just seem like machinery to do the job and get paid. From the start, no one character really steals the focus, giving Alien the appearance of being a "team" story; it isn't, and that makes it all the more harrowing when each member of the crew is picked off one by one. The moment we really begin to suspect that Ripley is our lead is when she says "no" to Dallas, after he orders her to let Kane (John Hurt) back onto the ship, after the ill-fated rescue operation on the surface of some distant planet. It is not a popular choice--it is not even a sympathetic one--but it turns out to be the right one. She doesn't make this tough call to be mean, but because she is smart enough to know the danger in the unknown--of bringing an alien life form aboard the ship--and she is courageous enough to make that call and refuse orders in deference to quarantine protocol; pity science officer Ash (Ian Holm) has different priorities. Ripley is a capable commander, though her suggestions and requests sometimes fall on deaf ears with men like Dallas. Dallas outright dismisses her authority and judgment when she tries to keep Kane from entering the ship; then, he refuses to allow her to enter the vents with the incinerator unit. It might be that Dallas is sexist--or trying to be too gentlemanly--or that he feels guilty in the latter scenario for the former, but he underestimates Ripley's capabilities; it is her resolve and expertise which guides her in the face of certain death.
Something in Alien draws upon our most primal impulses, are most basic fears, like being afraid of the dark. The inevitable alien lurks in shadowy corridors, and is dangerous enough to warrant highly cautious movements by our characters. This has the effect of heightening our anxiety, as we sympathize with the crew of the Nostromo, more so because they are projected as very real people, not just star explorers in ridiculous costumes, but everyday folks we might grab a beer with or meet at a hockey game. Alien is not strictly a monster movie, although a monster lurks in the vents and dark corridors of the ship, stalking its prey. There are the moments that come which we can't help but anticipate, where the terrifying creature which defies science and logic emerges from the out of focus frame with deadly silence, glistening like a horrible hybrid of something organic, insect-like, and even part machine. The tension that runs through Alien is constant; as members of the crew navigate in search of the monster, even the ship seems terrified, emitting rhythmic pulses which don't sound that different than a heart beat. The deep, dark set design is sometimes pierced by shafts of light, casting long shadows over the characters, with the intensity and boldness of film noir. Moments preceding the revelation of the alien's existence are hinted at when the ground crew investigates the wreckage of some kind of spacecraft, the "space jockey" having been an unfortunate victim of the deadly predator. It is interesting that Alien both begins and ends with sleep, and the crew has risen from their unnatural slumber into a waking nightmare. The alien is a genuine nightmare; it is the kind of monster that is so deadly, so horrifying, because it is what it can be to really terrify and overwhelm us with its capabilities. While Parker (Yaphet Kotto) rightly observes of the alien's precursor--the "face hugger"--that its acidic blood is a powerful defense mechanism, it seems implausible, given how the substance eats through the metal of the ship itself. And while one could construe a theory as to why that could work, it's more important that it is such a terrifying idea--just like the idea of a creature which both suffocates and violates you, or one which cracks your head like a watermelon with its vestigial jaw--that of course it must belong to this monster, one which not even the laws of reality can contain.
Recommended for: Fans of horror and terror, set in the stars but without the overbearing "space tech as magic" feel which often accompanies science fiction. It's a novel story with convincing characters, all terrified in the face of a fate beyond dire.
Something in Alien draws upon our most primal impulses, are most basic fears, like being afraid of the dark. The inevitable alien lurks in shadowy corridors, and is dangerous enough to warrant highly cautious movements by our characters. This has the effect of heightening our anxiety, as we sympathize with the crew of the Nostromo, more so because they are projected as very real people, not just star explorers in ridiculous costumes, but everyday folks we might grab a beer with or meet at a hockey game. Alien is not strictly a monster movie, although a monster lurks in the vents and dark corridors of the ship, stalking its prey. There are the moments that come which we can't help but anticipate, where the terrifying creature which defies science and logic emerges from the out of focus frame with deadly silence, glistening like a horrible hybrid of something organic, insect-like, and even part machine. The tension that runs through Alien is constant; as members of the crew navigate in search of the monster, even the ship seems terrified, emitting rhythmic pulses which don't sound that different than a heart beat. The deep, dark set design is sometimes pierced by shafts of light, casting long shadows over the characters, with the intensity and boldness of film noir. Moments preceding the revelation of the alien's existence are hinted at when the ground crew investigates the wreckage of some kind of spacecraft, the "space jockey" having been an unfortunate victim of the deadly predator. It is interesting that Alien both begins and ends with sleep, and the crew has risen from their unnatural slumber into a waking nightmare. The alien is a genuine nightmare; it is the kind of monster that is so deadly, so horrifying, because it is what it can be to really terrify and overwhelm us with its capabilities. While Parker (Yaphet Kotto) rightly observes of the alien's precursor--the "face hugger"--that its acidic blood is a powerful defense mechanism, it seems implausible, given how the substance eats through the metal of the ship itself. And while one could construe a theory as to why that could work, it's more important that it is such a terrifying idea--just like the idea of a creature which both suffocates and violates you, or one which cracks your head like a watermelon with its vestigial jaw--that of course it must belong to this monster, one which not even the laws of reality can contain.
Recommended for: Fans of horror and terror, set in the stars but without the overbearing "space tech as magic" feel which often accompanies science fiction. It's a novel story with convincing characters, all terrified in the face of a fate beyond dire.