MOVIE
Alien: Romulus
Director Fede Alvarez
Review Ray Chan
It's not easy to take on part of a franchise so well-known that there is bound to be disappointment if it fails to match its predecessors. So a tip of the hat to Fede Alvarez for chancing the arm: with Alien: Romulus, he demonstrates a bold yet
respectful approach to reviving the iconic series, crafting a production that
combines the claustrophobic terror of Ridley Scott’s 1979 classic with the
action-driven tension of the 1986 sequel.
Predominantly spanning the 22nd and 24th centuries, the Alien series, of course, depicts the deadly encounters between humanity and the
Xenomorph, a hostile, endoparasitoid, extraterrestrial species.
Set as an interquel between the two originals, this new
movie focuses on working-class
characters hoping to escape the oppressive shadow of the megalomaniacal amoral
megacorporation, Weyland-Yutani.
The plot is lean and direct: en route to freedom, the
youngsters must navigate a decaying space station, which is split into two
ominously designed halves, "Romulus" and "Remus". While it
doesn’t break new narrative ground, the minimalist storytelling initially allows
for a meticulous focus on atmosphere, tension, and world-building.
The good news is that the cast delivers strong performances,
particularly from Cailee Spaeny, whose portrayal of the charismatic Rain resonates
with grit reminiscent of Sigourney Weaver’s iconic Ripley, the fiercely
determined protagonist of the initial film.
The opening sequences offer promise, with the set design, drenched in shadows and eerie
lighting, recalling the tactile realism of H.R. Giger’s original visual style,
heightened by exceptional practical effects and immersive cinematography.
But then, unfortunately, the stumbles kick in. Anyone remotely familiar with
the premise can already surmise what unpleasantness
awaits on the satellite. Kudos to Álvarez, though, for the sheer gusto and
graphic detail with which he gets the space salamanders slaughtering the
supporting cast, in ways more imaginative than the previous instalments.
And yet it is this general air of predictability which
kills any sort of suspense. Many sequences are telegraphed, and it isn’t hard
to guess which faces are likely to get hugged and which torsos are about to be
skewered.
And indeed, the final stanza of the movie is as calculable
as they come. One of the group, heavy with child, injects herself with a serum
manufactured from xenomorph DNA. The resulting progeny, a human-alien hybrid, is
clearly meant to evoke some visceral scares, and aimed at underscoring the recurring theme of corporate greed meddling disastrously with
nature.
But its execution — marked by stilted and jarring CGI and
overly elaborate creature design — feels at odds with the otherwise grounded,
practical-effects-driven aesthetic of the offering.
While Romulus excels in capturing the grimy, lived-in
world of the original films, this particular creature seems out of place.
There’s a scene where it attempts to breastfeed from the human mother.
Metaphorically, it may be a nod to the legends of Romulus and Remus suckling
from a she-wolf; however its presence just disrupts the carefully
curated tone, veering into melodrama and detracting from the more
compelling aspects, such as the confined horror of being trapped with the acid-spewing critters.
In the end, while Romulus demonstrates Alvarez’s
understanding of the series’ core strengths, the reliance on such over-the-top
elements risks diluting what made Alien so iconic: its simplicity and
restraint.
For all its intermittent bright spots, Romulus may ultimately be
remembered for a creature that tried too hard to innovate, and instead ended up
alienating the audience.
