54679: Alien: Romulus

When I was 13, I spent months in constant gut pain, with a fever from morning until night, and also experienced some other symptoms which were, quite frankly, too gross to go into on a blog like this. It was a waking nightmare. I had no idea what was causing it, how to stop it, or even what it was called. Eventually, we discovered its name, "Crohn's Disease," and after three decades I've gotten pretty good at managing it. Mostly. When Dan O'Bannon was in his 20s, he went through a similar experience. Constant pain, nausea, and no idea that Crohn's Disease was at the root of it all. O'Bannon didn't have access to the same medical care that I did, so he was forced to deal with his pain in a different way. He wrote Alien.

The original Alien, which remains at the top of my list of slashers, sci-fi, and body horror cinema all at once, was inspired by O'Bannon's own harrowing journey with Crohn's Disease (which took his life in 2009). I'd like to say that maybe that's why the Alien franchise resonates so deeply with me, but it's probably just because the universe that O'Bannon, Ridley Scott, and H.R. Giger created is so rich and full of possibility. For better or worse (and I'd say overwhelmingly for the better) the Alien franchise has been a cultural juggernaut, bursting into and out of cinemas for 45 years.

The latest stage in the evolution of the xenomorph story, Alien: Romulus, slots into the franchise in between the first two films, but is packed with references to the entire series of films (except for those with "vs. Predator" in the title). The script, written by Rodo Sayagues (Evil Dead, Don't Breathe) along with director Fede Alvarez (also Evil Dead and Don't Breathe), nails what is great about these movies. Scrappy, attractive protagonists struggle under the boot of an omnipotent interstellar corporation, and that struggle brings them face-to-eyeless-face with the alien. Then comes the (acidic) blood, and pretty soon it's "game over, man."

In Alien: Romulus, the attractive protagonists are essentially indentured servants, owned by Weyland-Yutani and trapped on a nasty, brutal mining planet, Jackson's Star, which receives zero hours of sun per year. This is where they were born, it's where they live, and it is where the corporation will work them until they die. It's bleak. It's like Upton Sinclair and Charles Dickens got together with George Orwell and planned out a perfect dystopia. In this extra-terrestrial hellhole, we meet our main characters: Rain, a miner and orphan, recently fucked over by the corporation and forced to stay on Jackson's Star for another five years; and Andy, a salvaged and reprogrammed synthetic life form who is Rain's only family.

The relationship between Rain (Cailee Spaeny, Civil War) and Andy (David Johnsson, Rye Lane) is sweet, with Rain caring for the obsolete and malfunctioning Andy the way any family member would step up for an ailing loved one. Their familial tie takes on a heartbreaking tinge, given the pressures put upon Rain by the world they live in, and Rain's demeanor gives off the impression that this situation is not sustainable. So, that's where we are in the first ten minutes or so. Rain longs to get away from her life as it is, but she cannot move with the strength and speed required while still caring for Andy.

Into this doomed dynamic steps the ill-fated crew of a hauler, Corbelan, who just happen to have information about a derelict space object floating overhead which holds the materials they need to get themselves off of Jackson's Star and away to a new home on a new, more hospitable planet. Perhaps one with sunlight. But there's a catch: they need Andy, with his hard-wired company circuitry, to get them aboard.

And so it begins. Rain's affection for Andy comes into conflict with her need to escape her life. To free herself, how much peril will she put him in? The film does a great job of moving that line back and forth, eventually upending the power dynamic and putting Rain at Andy's mercy. This push and pull is the emotional heart of Alien: Romulus, and once the literal hearts start getting ripped out of chests it is what keeps the stakes grounded. Spaeny and Johnsson do a beautiful job of playing off each other throughout. It is a delicate dance, and special kudos should go to Johnsson for tackling the unenviable acting task of getting in touch with the emotions of a character who physically can't have any.

Speaking of things that are emotionless, the xenomorphs in Alien: Romulus are very much in keeping with the original recipe from Alien and Aliens. The facehuggers, the chest bursters, the adults—they all feel very familiar in the way their look, sound, and behaviors. The humans are similarly presented in keeping with the space truckers and jarheads we met in the first two movies, though perhaps on the younger and more attractive side of the scale.

The film, post-Corbelan, plays out like a taut, expertly planned thriller. There's a ticking clock driving the action, a MacGuffin to chase, several terrifying set pieces to menace our crew, and plenty of twists and turns provided by the inhospitable environment. And they manage to squeeze in a parable about climate change. It feels very much like Alvarez is reclaiming the story from Alien: Resurrection and making a good version of it, to the point that some of the story beats are exactly the same. Only, you know, better.

And that gets to the heart of the film, and the franchise. Does the franchise continue to evolve as it exists, picking up bits of DNA from better films and incorporating it into the story? Or is it already the apex of apex predators, and no further refinements are necessary? Is it possible to top Alien? I don't think so, but without that goal in mind, why bother making another film in the series? Keep learning, adapting, and making better and better movies.