Continuing excitement about the Alien franchise offers evidence of the human capacity for hope in the face of dispiriting experience. This is the ninth film set in that universe, and there (still) hasn’t been one worth getting properly enthused about since Ronald Reagan was in the White House.
So don’t get too excited when I tell you that Fede Álvarez’s murky romp is as good as these things have been this century. The script, by the director and Rodo Sayagues, ditches most of the tedious pondering of “lore” that dragged down Prometheus, from 2012, and, to a lesser extent, Alien: Covenant, from 2017, for a return to the haunted-house-in-space aesthetic that Ridley Scott first unveiled 45 years ago. The end is little short of a disaster, but, to that point, Álvarez, director of the fine Don’t Breathe, marshals the set pieces with violent grace.
What most distinguishes Alien: Romulus are the two charming lead performances. Cailee Spaeny – there is currently nobody more unstoppable – turns up as the resonantly named Rain Carradine, a misused space colonist falsely convinced she has worked out her contract. David Jonsson, so good in the recent Rye Lane, plays Andy, identified as her brother but soon revealed to be an amiable android. Coded as autistic – he loves bad puns – Andy emerges as part protector and part dependant.
The two are looking forward to a life away from grim and distant mines when Rain learns that the evil overlords have unilaterally extended her contract. She and a huddle of young pals decide to take charge of their own destiny. They become aware of an apparently abandoned spaceship and set out to make best use of what remains within. You hardly need to be told that innards of the vessel are decorated with young aliens ready to plant themselves within unwilling humans.
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In truth, the rest of the gang are little more than indistinguishable prey for eager xenomorphs. The writers haven’t managed even the broad one-adjective characters that James Cameron spread about the terrain in Aliens. But Spaeny and Jonsson do good work with thin dialogue as they flesh out a partnership that, should they survive to the credits, has the potential for further exploitation.
About halfway through, with an expositional gesture towards one of the earliest episodes, the plot introduces evil schemes, mad tech and some improbable time frames. It doesn’t do to over-interrogate the science in these things, but, all allowances made, too much happens a little too quickly here. In what seems like only a few hours, we get enough incident for an entire box set of science-fiction epics.
For the most part, Romulus comprises taut action sequences that, even in the half-light, follow a satisfying kinetic logic. With one bold exception, the variations on traditional Alien themes are introduced gently. Andy gets to replay Ripley’s reluctance to open a door to the infected. Spaeny, an actor with a very different energy from Sigourney Weaver, makes a similarly dominant, if less robust, avenger in the closing sections. Benjamin Wallfisch’s score has fun referencing the playful arabesques in Jerry Goldsmith’s memorable original.
For all that, Alien: Romulus remains a shapeless beast that never so much as hints at the disciplined elegance of Scott’s founding text. The action progresses rather than builds. The antagonists are explosively malevolent from first appearance. The least said about the late reversal and subsequent silly denouement the better. It is, however, worth pointing out they tried something similar before and it didn’t work then, either.
Oh well. We will, no doubt, approach the next instalment with hope undimmed. Just as we believe that it won’t rain on bank holidays. Just as we think that this time our floundering team will win the cup.
