Apparently I have to write this a second time. Woohoo.
I saw Prometheus opening weekend.
In fact, that’s an understatement.
I was looking forward to a triumphant return to a film universe that I really thought was imaginative.
Sadly, much of Prometheus was dull, predictable, or unnecessary. It had bright spots, but this movie will go down as being another Alien Resurrection or Aliens vs. Predator entry in in the xenomorph mythos. The DC Elseworlds Superman vs. Aliens one-shot was better.
The acting was excellent, for the most part. Fans of Michael Fassbender will really get a kick out of his outright creepy no-nonsense portrayal of a David-model
android synthetic human. The supporting cast was hugely entertaining, while they were alive. Charlize Theron’s character was very likable. The only disappointment was Noomi Rapace, who seemed to be trying to unsuccessfully channel Sigourney Weaver’s Ellen Ripley.
As I said before, the cinematography was beautiful. The Prometheus ship itself was gorgeous, and the landscapes and camera pulls and pans always left you wanting to see just a little bit more. (But then, with around 100 years of moving pictures under their belt, Hollywood doesn’t really have a good excuse for bad cinematography these days.)
The music was a letdown as well. With all the talented composers out there, you’d think they would have been able to stumble drunkenly across a single musician who could have written a score that didn’t distract you from the movie. Or maybe that was the point.
My big issues with Prometheus had to do with the plot.
Oh yeah, SPOILERS FOLLOWING.
Seriously. The plot: 35,000 year-old cave paintings directing near-future spacefaring humans to distant planets in search of the “alien Engineers” who created life on Earth? Wasn’t this covered in one of the less-popular Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes?
And don’t get me started on the Enterprise-sized plot holes and Ridley Scott predictability. Rapace surgically removes an alien embryo from her womb before it can kill her, ends up covered in blood with a dozen staples across her belly, and nobody notices her wandering around the ship bloody and delirious? Granted, Scott was busy killing off all the rest of the supporting characters at the time in the cargo bay, with a contrived plot device specifically to kill off people so he didn’t have to deal with them. Sorry, rabbit trail. Back to our blood-soaked heroine: Eventually she stumbles into a room full of people, and proceeds to have normal conversations as everyone ignores the fact that she is STILL IN HER UNDERWEAR AND COVERED IN BLOOD. And nobody is concerned by this?
The xenomorphs were…interesting. This was definitely a setup for a future film addrssing the xenos spread through the galaxy (which, thankfully, was NOT humans’ fault, which may be a new concept to some: Us NOT being to blame for every bad thing that befalls everyone in the entire universe).
But even the failures of the plot are secondary to the real disappointment in Prometheus.
Ridley Scott must be feeling mortal these days. The years must be weighing heavily on him in his twilight. Questions of life, the universe, God, Creation, and purpose permeate this film.
Unfortunately, the answers this film provides are nothing less than depressing. “Guess what! We’ve found the Creator of all life on Earth! He’s a 12-foot tall alien with identical DNA to us. Oh, and remember the YHWH of the OLd Testament? Changeable, angry, bitter, jealous, and full of smite? Yeah, these gods are just like that. So, in a nutshell, yeah, god exists, but he’s just a small, petty, changeable, and finite as you are.”
So abandon all hope and despair, because there’s nothing better out there.
Not exactly the message *I* want to pay $12 to hear.
If Prometheus was supposed to be instill me with wonder, fascination, and hope? Yeah, I definitely didn’t get that.