Prometheus (2012; Ridley Scott) is a flick that needs serious mental gymnastics to make sense of and appreciate—if you’re so inclined…
A prequel to Alien, with mashed-up elements of
Chariots of the Gods and 1955’s East of Eden thrown in, Prometheus follows
explorers with conflicting agendas who are using star-charts from
35,000-year-old cave wall paintings to discover that our ancient astronaut
creators are not at all friendly.
Hardly without its flaws—Prometheus is a damn fine flick to look at, technically perfect, partially shot in Iceland ’s volcanic fields, with
incredible sets and special effects.
Even when the script makes no sense whatsoever (which
is most of the time—and completely unravels at the end), director Scott knows
how to create mood, suspension and excitement—with plenty of gore.
It’s got all the elements of a “spectacular”
crowd-pleaser, even supposedly “deep” theological questions that fanboys and
pseudo-intellectuals can chew over later.
Wow, what original Alien screenwriter Dan O’Bannon started as a homage to Planet
of the Vampires, It! The Terror From Beyond Space and The Voyage of the Space
Beagle has certainly turned into something else entirely!
Prometheus was made because Ridley Scott hasn’t had a hit
since 2001’s Black Hawk Down (which I thought was a turgid dopey mess of a
movie, anyway, not as exciting, intriguing or as violent as Mark Bowden’s
highly recommended non-fiction book), and in H’wood, you need success to keep
the sharks at bay.
So Scott has returned to the one film from his career,
Alien (his second movie, and first hit), that has maintained a high level of public
awareness through its sequels and spin-offs.
Throughout all those other movies, it was never
touched on where the xenomorphs (the infamous H.R. Giger-designed monsters)
come from, and why their eggs were in the bottom of that strange derelict
spacecraft in the first Alien—
nor who the Space Jockey (that fossilized “astronaut”
with the elephant head, at the “controls” of some strange instrumentation in
the derelict ship) was, or anything else about him.
There’s been much speculation over the years on whom
the Space Jockeys were, especially in the Alien comic book spin-offs, but no
canonical answers.
With Prometheus, director Scott and producers Walter
Hill and David Giler have tried to answer those questions and many more.
However, this flick will drive genuine science fiction fans (not fantasy
geeks; and there is a difference) and
Members of the Reality-Based Community bonkers.
Honestly, I was sitting in the theater, and I could
feel my teeth start to grind—I thought about the $14 ticket, and knew I had to
find something to like.
To enjoy this flick, do what I did: treat lead
character Dr. Shaw as the villain (very early in the film, I was certain she
was mentally unbalanced when she spoke the lines “I think they want us to come and find them”)—
Meanwhile, treat the seemingly treacherous android
David as, if not the hero or anti-hero (tragic hero?), then the film’s
protagonist—the character that completes the greatest dramatic arc.
Fuck that “find the creator” bullshit—to quote cool
space-captain Stringer Bell, “Who cares?”
Give me the story of a bastard son who wants to kill
his father.
In the late-21st century, Dr. Elizabeth
Shaw and Holloway, her petulant jock-slacker-asshole boyfriend (she must’ve
written his papers in college), are ostensibly in charge of an expedition to
planet LV-233, the final destination of a star map they discovered throughout
archeological digs all over the globe in completely unrelated cultures.
Shaw fervently believes the map is an invitation, a
request from God to come and visit. But she isn’t as smart as she thinks she
is—and her religiosity (she always
wears the cross of her dead missionary dad around her neck) has given her
certainty: she knows she’s right. The fact that she could be wrong, or simply
uncertain, never crosses her mind—which is pride: hubris, a sin.
And to think that she knows what “God” is thinking (oh, he wants us to drop in and say
hi) is even more prideful.
The only reaction an audience should give her is
contempt: she’s doomed everybody!
Because planet LV-233 isn’t God’s Heavenly Throne or
some such nonsense—it’s a bioweapons ammunition depot for the Engineers—what
Shaw calls the Space Jockey race, who it seems created life on Earth from their
own DNA (man jumping into ocean of a dead planet to create new life was already
used in Alfred Bester’s short story “Adam and No Eve,” but whatevs…).
It seems that about 2,000 years ago there was an
accident at the base, and all except one of the alien astronauts was killed,
many of them with holes punched out of their chests…
When the “spill” wiped out the Space Jockeys, it seems
like they were preparing to launch—to start a bomb run on planet Earth.
And now the naïve humans have “woken up” the base…
(I love how the awakened “Engineer” freaks out on
seeing the humans—I imagine the reaction of the pilot of the Enola Gay waking
up to find the cockpit full of Japanese.)
Better than Tyrell’s replicants, David is by far the
best thing in the film; and Michael Fassbender plays the part to perfection.
Created by zillionaire Weyland, who says the synthetic
person has no soul—a statement David’s subtle pang of hurt instantly
disproves—the android (with corporate trademark on his fingertips) is working
for The Man, certainly, but doing it cool,
his way.
Also a little perversely: we see him “scanning” Shaw’s
dreams when she’s in hypersleep—isn’t that intrusive? But he’s enjoying it; the
robot is a voyeur! (And intrusion is one of this series’ major themes, after
all…)
This mechanical man has an agenda, and he’ll use
Shaw’s to his advantage.
Weyland has called David the son he couldn’t have
(itself an even subtler clue to something else going on in the movie—child
abandonment/rejection themes abound, boy howdy!), but is David going to run the
company, or continue being an obedient Company Man when the rich geezer croaks
it?
And then that “soul” thing—you don’t say that about
your kid in front of employees, dude.
So David’s a bastard son, essentially—like T.E.
Lawrence, who, because he was born out of wedlock could never inherit his
father’s title or lands, and had to go into the army out of necessity. We’re
shown that David loves the film Lawrence
of Arabia, even cutting his hair to be like Peter O’Toole’s. But it isn’t a
cutesy affectation; it’s a clue to David’s personality.
Emulating his idol (remember, Lawrence ended up helping the Arabs because
he respected them, not because the bosses said so), David eventually “goes
native”—and planet LV-233 certainly is desert-like.
Being secretive, callous and almost cruel, David uses
the crew, specifically Shaw and Holloway, for experiments (hinted to be at the
behest of Weyland, who’s hiding on-board, but also out of his own curiosity and
revenge).
But then he goes beyond the call of duty when learning
and exploring the alien craft—all the better to help Pop meet his maker, I
suppose? David feels that when his father is dead, he will be free.
What happens to David is a lesson for us all: our
parents aren’t anything to lose our heads over.
Getting back to our zealous villainess, Shaw says that
whatever happened to the aliens, happened about 2,000 years ago—which would be
in this film’s timeline, about 100 years after the birth of Christ—and the
beginning of the rise of Christianity!
Were the Space Jockeys getting ready to nuke Earth
from orbit with a bunch of parasitic bioweapons—because of Christ?!? Whoa…
Now, I believe the movie thinks this, too—because when
the villainess goes on her crusade to find the Space Jockey home planet, she
notes the date as “Year of Our Lord Twenty-Ninety-Three.”
[my emphasis]
The Space Jockeys destroyed of her dream of a “Just
& Kind God,” so her genocide against them will be a total Jihad!
Which is why I didn’t mind the very ending of the
picture: it’s very New Wave Science Fiction to have humans going on a holy war
against “God.”
But it also means that her faith has been completely shattered—that the decent and wise parts of the Bible (a book written by humans,
Shaw seems to forget), like the noble lessons of Christ, now mean nothing to
her. So in a sense, she never was a true Christian, she was practicing a type
of neo-scientific idolatry.
Of course, having a squishy alien-spawn inside her
barren uterus is a spooge right in the face of her religion, mixing virgin
birth, rape and monstrousness (how many times did she pray to “God” to get
pregnant before leaving Earth? Now she is, and she’s disgusted)—further unbalancing
her mentally (not that a Caesarian section while awake does any good for the
synapses, either).
Midway in the film, Shaw and David converse
philosophically, and he asks, “Doesn’t everyone want their parents dead?”
“I didn’t,” the obnoxious Shaw quickly snaps back—and
there’s the problem: she’s still daddy’s good little perfect girl regarding
other cultures as playthings and trinkets for her amusement.
Which may explain why she and her staff routinely
break with basic scientific protocol, if not common sense—from playing “kitty”
with mutant snake-vaginas, to taking off your helmet in a potentially
germ-filled environment, to getting lost when you’re the mapmaker, to letting a
patient with an alien embryo gestating inside her to escape and not give chase,
to leaving the bridge empty when there are men stranded outside, to…
—maybe in the future, they don’t let the smart ones off-planet.
The Corporate Overlords of the Future know space is
too dangerous—can’t risk the brain-trust on one-way missions! If the dummies
make it back, send ’em out again, like Ripley.
If they don’t make it back, good riddance (Ripley was
a troublemaker, anyway).
As for extraterrestrial contact, these knuckleheads
were probably thinking it’d be a happy Spielberg E.T. to welcome them instead
of Cthulhu’s big brother.
I’m with Mad Doc Stephen Hawking, who says that
contact with aliens
“would be a disaster. The extraterrestrials
would probably be far in advance of us. The history of advanced races meeting
more primitive people on this planet is not very happy, and they were the same
species. I think we should keep our heads low.”
Ridley Scott’s biggest problem is that he wants to be
Stanley Kubrick, trying to tackle “big themes” with intense intellectual rigor
and perfectionistic craftsmanship—but his TV commercial DNA always kicks in to
ensure blockbuster. Kinda sad really.
A prequel to Alien that could only feel “stand-alone” if
you decided to ignore the constant references and shout-outs to Alien,
Prometheus would still be fun for a “newbie” (everybody knows that you don’t
try and pet a mutant
vagina-cobra!)—and it would be interesting to gage their reaction—or not—to
obvious parallels to the 1979 movie.
The first Alien was seen by me sometime in early July
1979 on my birthday weekend, at the long-gone Avalon Theater on Kings Highway —and
it scared the shit out of me!
One thing I’d figured out even back then was that the
xenomorph was a bioweapon.
Even before James Cameron introduced the concept of a
Queen, when the creature itself was mutating human victims into eggs (from
scenes cut out of the original release, but still in Alan Dean Foster’s
novelization, as well as much of the promo/supplemental material, like Walt Simonson’s excellent comic book adaptation, and The Book of Alien production design
catalog), the creature’s whole reproductive cycle is not a natural one, it demands
“hosts” (victims) more than simple parasites do—and with Prometheus, it was
mighty pleasant of Scott & Co. to finally acknowledge that I’ve been right
all along.
Nice to see them finally catching up to a 14-year-old
kid from Brooklyn in 1979.
"Ridley Scott’s biggest problem is that he wants to be Stanley Kubrick, trying to tackle “big themes” with intense intellectual rigor and perfectionistic craftsmanship—but his TV commercial DNA always kicks in to ensure blockbuster. Kinda sad really."
ReplyDeleteThat nicely sums up my own problems with Scott's oeuvre. He tries to have it both ways, delivering blockbusters with a brain. It's certainly a laudable goal, but frankly I don't think he has the chops for it.
Groggy,
ReplyDeleteSo sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you--
Y'know, I actually enjoy more of Ridley's brother Tony's films. People accuse him of action-movie-stupidity-blah-blah-blah, but TS's movies are more stylistically a whole piece than Ridley's flicks (trapped in their creator's intellectual social climbing). And b/c Tony's movies are "mere" entertainments, I think he gets the "message" across better, esp. with Enemy of the State, Unstoppable and Crimson Tide; instead of that show-off Ridley. (However, TS loses maximum points for helming the Pelham 1-2-3 remake: unforgivable.)
Thanks for commenting,
Ivan
I liked your idea of seeing Shaw as the villain and David as antihero,and David taking Weyland enterprises-that's a good idea-a father and son relationship between a human and robot-nice.
ReplyDeleteYou have not only reviewed Prometheus,but also Scott-nice review.
Thanks for mentioning that the jumping sequence was already used in another film.