Interstellar overdrive

In space, no one can hear you scream.

No one can see you wet your pants at the film company preview room where my friend Jules the Eyebrow Man and I got to watch Prometheus, the much-heralded Alien prequel, ahead of the maddening crowd in Manila. (Courtesy of Mae Vecina of Warner Bros.) So, you had us two fan boys, some burgers-and-fries and a projection room all to ourselves. It got heady from thereon.

Wait, this is not a review. (For some meaty insights, read Scott Garceau’s article.) No highbrow epiphanies, no spoilers here as well. And I am sure as hell not going to tell you that Ridley Scott’s Prometheus is not a direct prequel to his Alien, and you should expect a sequel to this prequel because it surely left us with more unanswered questions. Ooops…

Jules remembers going to the video store as a kid to rent a VHS copy of Aliens, James Cameron’s retooling of Alien into a Vietnam War buddy-buddy movie (the only thing missing is Jimi Hendrix’s Voodoo Chile as soundtrack). But Jules was handed instead a copy of the first flick in the soon-to-be-legendary franchise — the scariest, the baddest one of all. That, I think, scarred him for life.

I remember sneaking in with my friends to watch Alien in a seedy, moldy, Clorox-smelling theater in Pampanga. It was the second movie in a triple bill (sandwiched between two American softcore films). Believe me, all I remember are the chestbusters and facehuggers of Ridley Scott’s movie, and not the, uhm, “chest-busters” and “face-huggers” of the R-rated flicks. John Hurt, Tom Skerritt, Sigourney Weaver, et al, played characters that were fleshed out masterfully by the director. And not just fleshed out to serve as dinner for the alien creature, since the movie is not The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in Space as its own director once quipped. 

H.R. Giger (the Swiss surrealist who designed the alien creature and the biomechanical landscape) and Ripley in underwear — these things have been tattooed into my brain forever.

I love Alien 3, even if it alienated a lot of fans of the franchise. Mainly because director David Fincher created something strange and allegorical, and that he tried reuniting the shambolic trio in Whitnail & I (two out of three ain’t bad) in the eerie prison planet. And the alien DNA getting mixed with canine DNA — a stroke of genius.

Let us not go into how alienating and forgettable Alien Resurrection is, even if it has its moments — such as seeing the aborted Ripley-alien creature mash-ups. In the fourth Alien installment, you have the future Hellboy actor (Ron Perlman), but you also have the former Heathers actress (Winona Ryder). A win-lose situation.

After watching Prometheus, all I could think of at first was how much I missed the look of the rusty, oily, claustrophobia-inducing look of the Nostromo. You could almost smell that thing hovering like a ghostly spaceship in a sci-fi novel Joseph Conrad would never write. The Weyland Industries corporation-sponsored spacecraft Prometheus is more Space Odyssey than space junk. The 2012 movie is brighter and more colorful (Orange? Teal?) than the 1979 classic. Prometheus has this high-mindedness about it that is subtly presented, only hinted at in Alien. “Who are we? What is the origin of humanity?” Prometheus keeps prodding. Meanwhile, Alien asks, “What is this creature? And why does it want me as a side dish?”

These two movies are aliens and oranges. You don’t necessarily have to be a fan of the franchise to dig this thrill ride called Prometheus. It has its share of shocks, gore, twists, a conspiratorial agency, and humans working to f*ck up other humans — the story of civilization. Man asking the age-old question: “How do we keep the music playing?” (Meaning: “How do we get to live forever?”)

Prometheus is a universe in itself. It is not so much as a prequel than — I have read this before — a “variation on a theme.” To paraphrase one of the writers, Damon Lindelof, it is akin to watching the Rolling Stones in concert. You’d expect Mick and Keith to jam on new numbers, but you’d be bummed out if they don’t play Sympathy for the Devil. Or Satisfaction.

And casting Michael Fassbender and Noomi Rapace is genius. I have never seen Fassbender (Hunger, Fish Tank, Inglorious Basterds, etc.) in a bad movie; just don’t count Jonah Hex, which the actor funnily dismissed in Total Film magazine as a “Criterion Collection movie.” Fassbender is as unnerving as all the other ‘droids of the Alien movies (except Winona), but with an otherwordly detachment that turns into mechanical menace. Major Tom with a secret mission. The Thin White Duke who surreptitiously slides something inside his space bag. And Fassbender’s name in the movie is, aptly enough, “David.”

Noomi, as Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, was thankfully chosen over A-listers such as Scarlet Johansson who stars in everything. Just like Robert Downey Jr. — how could you suspend your disbelief into thinking he is Iron Man after seeing him a week ago as Sherlock Holmes?

The girl who played the girl with the dragon tattoo has this intense fire about her. She is dazzling in many of the key scenes in the Ridley Scott movie. Pregnant women should refrain from watching Prometheus because there is a scene in the movie wherein Shaw is strapped in a… Ooops, I did it again.

There are many things I can never tell you, dear readers. Such are the wonders of watching Prometheus.

* * *

Prometheus in 3D and 2D opens today nationwide. Special thanks to Warner Bros Philippines GM Francis Soliven, Digna Junio and Fox marketing manager Golda Padre.