The 'Alien' films must certainly be the most fascinating franchise in film history. Much like its titular monster, it's a series that's continually evolving, not just thematically but tonally and aesthetically. It's a great example of the possibilities that come when you experiment within strict parameters. 'Alien', Ridley Scott's immaculate 1979 masterpiece, is a horror film. 'Aliens', James Cameron's barnstorming 1986 sequel, is an action film. 'Alien3' is a nihilistic prison film and 'Alien: Resurrection' is a surrealist fantasy. More recently, Ridley Scott pushed the series into new thematic territory, with 'Prometheus' as a Lovecraftian nightmare on the nature of creation and 'Alien: Covenant' a pseudo-sexual haunted house film. There are obvious links between all six of these films, but one never heedlessly repeats or recreates any of the others, keeping the series perennially fresh and relevant. At their worst, they're at least interesting.
So what do we have with 'Alien: Romulus', the latest film in the franchise from Uruguayan director Fede-AlvarezFede Alvarez ('Evil Dead', 'Don't Breathe')?
On a remote mining colony run by Weland-Yutani, Rain (Cailee Spaeny, 'Priscilla', 'Civil War') is working to complete her gruelling contract and get herself and her adopted android brother Andy (David Jonsson, 'Rye Lane') off the planet and somewhere where they can see any kind of sun. Her friend Tyler (Archie Renaux, 'Catherine Called Birdy') presents them with their best option - along with his crew, they'll fly up to a decommissioned company ship in orbit around the planet, commandeer their cryogenic chambers and hot-foot it away before anyone finds out, as long as Andy can tap into the MU-TH-UR computer system. When they reach the ship though, they discover that it isn't decommissioned but abandoned, a science laboratory now torn to pieces and carrying in it an extraordinary and horrifying alien life form discovered a decade earlier by a towing vehicle on its journey back to Earth...
SWITCH: 'ALIEN: ROMULUS' FINAL TRAILER
With its small ensemble of young actors, 'Romulus' could best be described as the teen horror film of the series. It certainly fits the bill - everyone adheres to an instantly recognisable archetype, the narrative is only really concerned with giving depth to one or two, unspoken romantic relationships form the core connective tissue for many of them and everyone is easily under the age of 25. It's to the film's advantage that it realises this relatively quickly and lets the film easily fall into the tropes of this type of film, dressed with the trappings of the 'Alien' franchise as we know it. The advantage that comes with this awareness of these tropes is that, much like Alvarez's gleeful reimagining of 'Evil Dead', it doesn't dispense with the pleasantries. 'Romulus' sets up its characters, sets the narrative plot points in motion and then goes for broke trying to keep you on the edge of your seat.
For the most part it succeeds, especially when it offers its own imaginative variations on what we expect from this franchise. Aesthetically it sits more in line with Scott's original, a grime and a grit now let loose to be bloody and gory in a way it simply couldn't in 1979. The danger is that this could make 'Romulus' feel derivative, and there are moments where it walks that very fine line. How you take its evocations and homages to Scott's film perhaps depends on your expectations. 'Alien' is one of the sacred texts of cinema, a perfect engine of a film against which others are unfairly judged and always, without exception, found lacking in comparison. Alvarez, along with production designer Naaman Marshall and cinematographer Galo Olivares, have at least taken the time to understand the aesthetic rules of the original film and adapt them to their needs. 'Romulus' feels like Scott's 'Alien' without needing to repeat Scott's 'Alien'. There may be similarities in terms of structure, but these are no less overt than Cameron's structural repetitions in 'Aliens'.
Another key decision 'Romulus' makes is to not assume we'll be dazzled easily by the presence of the Xenomorph, a mistake 'Covenant' made. We want to see it active in the film, but it can't be the central focus or be overused. It now returns to being a creature draped in shadow, a practical object glistening with slime and almost always in close-up. To see too much of it is to rob it of its power, and because 'Romulus' isn't as interested in exploring the same kind of dense thematic terrain as the other films, its power is in how it plays out as a terrifying roller-coaster. Play the Xenomorph card too many times, and we're prone to get bored.
Once the film kicks into gear, it essentially becomes a series of well-executed set pieces, but again, the fact it isn't trying to do more than this works well for it. Each sequence is expertly staged, with an emphasis on forward motion and sensory attack. The sound design is loud and sharp, and Benjamin Wallfisch is having a great time with his playful, menacing score. It also establishes a number of ticking clocks, a building Jenga tower of critical situations all threatening to converge on one another. It's a great device, making sure that the action needs to keep moving forward and adding extra threat to the presence of the alien at all its stages of birth. It doesn't care that they're about to crash into something; it just wants to eat, to breed and to multiply.
Aesthetically it sits more in line with Scott's original, a grime and a grit now let loose to be bloody and gory in a way it simply couldn't in 1979.
Where the film runs into trouble is where complex exposition is necessary, partly for how it disrupts the rhythm of the action but primarily because of the means of its delivery. At its weakest, 'Romulus' becomes a "Greatest Hits" of the Alien franchise, sometimes in obvious ways (iconic lines, familiar shots) and sometimes in a manner that feels more playful (the film is just as willing to acknowledge the other four films in the franchise beyond 'Alien' and 'Aliens'). As is often the case, these homages work best when they serve the narrative, the characters or the world of the film, and other uses feel extraneous.
Which brings us to the means by which the film delivers that clunky exposition and the one unforgivable aspect of the film. Much of what we learn about the space station (a two-part structure called 'Romulus' and 'Remus') comes from a reactivated android. This character, rather than being a wholly new presence in the series, is modelled after a character from one of the earlier films where the actor has since passed away. It's a very similar situation to the digital recreation of Peter Cushing in 'Rogue One', about as ineffective in execution and somehow even more egregious by feeling totally unnecessary. On top of how off-putting it looks, it calls into question the ethics of using the face and voice of someone who is not here to approve the use of their face and voice. No matter how good the tools are, it categorically isn't them, and recreating them wholesale in a computer for purposes of entertainment feels deeply uncomfortable. Much like the Weyland-Yutani weaponisation of the Xenomorph, it feels like an act of doing something because you can, not because you should. The film would have been better for not having done it and lost nothing in the process. Instead, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth right when you're starting to vibe with what the film is offering.
By virtue of taking the 'Alien' franchise into the realm of teen horror, the many elements of 'Romulus' could all spin out of control. Jump scares and lots of gore don't matter unless you have someone to really root for. 'Romulus' resorts to the expected trope of the Final Girl, but Cailee Spaeny is too good an actor not to take this opportunity and run with it. She is able to sell Rain's determination and horror with integrity, often acting as the emotional anchor for the ensemble. She's also wisely not trying to replicate Sigourney Weaver, even if the film often frames her visually in that role. What Spaeny identifies about the inherent power of Ellen Ripley is her very palpable vulnerability, and it's this that she taps into with great effect, especially in Rain's relationship with Andy. David Jonsson is the other standout from this cast, navigating a difficult task with Andy, a robot with a good heart fighting against a body and mind that don't serve him as well as it once did. There's a real emotional connection between Rain and Andy, bolstered by the obvious chemistry between Spaeny and Jonsson. The film is always at its best when it's the two of them, mostly because the screenplay actually gives them something to play, while their co-stars are reduced to flesh for the meat grinder.
It's perhaps best not to expect too much from 'Alien: Romulus', certainly not that it will reach anywhere near the heights of the first two films or even 'Prometheus'. Coming to it on its own terms though, as a straight-down-the-line, uncomplicated return to the horror roots of the series, there's a lot going for it. The action moves at a clipping pace, the central characters are easy to root for, it looks and sounds gorgeous and it throws in a few left-of-field surprises along the way. There's definitely a sense that Fede Alvarez wants to do justice to the series, and while that sometimes lapses into lazy homage (and in one case, an inexcusable lapse in judgement), it also sometimes means drawing on unexpected nooks and crannies of the franchise that give a little thrill of delight. It feels like an 'Alien' film, sounds like an 'Alien' film, and where so many sequels/prequels/reimaginings these days do this without a sense of integrity or thought, 'Alien: Romulus' has at least been crafted with a strong understanding of where it has come from. It maybe isn't enough to power the franchise forward off its own steam, but it does show that there's still some acid flowing in its veins yet.