When you watch the Alien films, there’s a time in each story when the beleaguered and dwindling group of humans need to figure out what are we gonna do with this thing? “This thing” being some iteration of the lethal menace that hunts them, in whichever isolated circumstance they’re being exploited by the established corporate overlords, Weyland-Yutani. That question must also torment the filmmakers who have held the baton in the forty-plus-year relay of the science fiction franchise.
Despite the various interpreters, the series has enjoyed a relatively high level of quality control. Like the levels on a mixing board, each director sets their own mix of lore and gore, as well as how indulgent they’ll be with the acid-filled beasts known as the Xenomorph. Regardless of the tone or objectives each movie presents, the success stems from the two vital elements of horror: a good protagonist and a good menace.
Ridley Scott, James Cameron, David Fincher, and Jean-Pierre Jeunet each offered their own mix. All lovers of film in their own right, any cinematic references they may have included were from outside the series’ canon. But we are at a point in franchise movie making where die hard fans of the series are in charge and creating a self-referential feedback loop that makes you think of other movies you’ve seen instead of the one you’re watching right now.
Fede Álvarez takes the baton for Alien: Romulus, a movie whose reverence for its forebearers stunts its own qualities. Despite it being the first Alien project released by Disney (since their acquisition of 20th Century Fox), Álvarez delivers the visceral horror the series has historically provided. There’s enough of the franchise’s signature flair to satisfy fans’ appetites but by the end, there’s enough references shoved down your throat that you might feel like your stomach will, ya know… burst.
Romulus departs from the lofty aspirations of the two most recent entries, Prometheus and Alien: Covenant. It matches its time period with its tone, setting the story in between Alien and Aliens. While Ellen Ripley is somewhere floating in hyper-sleep, Rain Carradine (Cailee Spaney) is trying to put in the required hours to escape the Weyland-Yutani-owned mining planet and begin a new chapter in her life. Along with her is Andy (David Jonsson), a damaged synthetic (a robot that looks like a person), whom Rain refers to as her brother. The two join a group of young laborers who scheme to escape their squalid existence by hijacking an abandoned ship.
At the center of every Alien movie is a female lead. Sigourney Weaver’s Ripley set the tone for the series’ signature strong, emotionally intelligent protagonist. Like her predecessors, Noomi Rapace and Katherine Waterston, Spaney is more than up to the task of balancing strength with empathy to present a character you want to see make it out alive.
David Jonsson gives a performance that sticks to your ribs. His look of wounded discomfort conveys everything you need to know about this robot that was given a second life by Rain’s father. It’s a look he carried throughout the terrific British rom-com Rye Lane and, if I were him, I’d find some way to trademark.
Álvarez has spent his Hollywood career updating various other horror properties including Evil Dead and Texas Chainsaw Massacre, producing and contributing the story on the latter along with his screenwriting partner Rodo Sayagues.
The Uruguayan filmmaker is by all means a certified Xenophile, but that adoration leads to an unfortunate gilding of the proverbial lily. The world of Alien is already rich in worldbuilding elements with its evil conglomerate, proletarian ethos, and stable of H.R. Giger-designed nightmares. As shown by the previous installments, fans are serviced by a story immersed in this world without angling a mirror on the series’ greatest hits.
A shot that mimics a composition in Alien3 of a Xenomorph coming face-to-face with its female protagonist is pushing it but when Andy delivers one of the series most famous quotes verbatim, it's too much. (Particularly when that means this character utters it canonically before the original.) To his credit, a Xenopediac knowledge is not necessary to understand or appreciate the story but anyone who’s seen an Alien movie before is subject to an onslaught of on-the-nose references.
Álvarez’s veneration becomes an asset when you see how much of the world is real. For a project whose fate was originally intended for the dreaded world of streaming, this thing really feels like a movie.
Its reported $80 million production budget was wisely put to use on the screen, with Ian Hunt and Tippett Studio enlisted for practical effects work. Along with stunning sets that recreate the consoles and displays from 1979, the overall tangibility of the world is felt and keeps the engagement on the story and the action.
Alien films are very easily the type of production that could be thoughtlessly pushed to render, well, everything on a computer; removing much of the reality necessary to ground a story about big bugs that want to impregnate you and/or kill you. The importance of tactile blood and viscera is not lost on a filmmaker with an all-horror resume and is used effectively in the biomechanical world.
For a Disney release, Álvarez is able to include an astonishing amount of Giger-inspired reproductive system-focused designs (though remember that Little Mermaid cover?). The shimmering, pulsating detail is a gruesome delight but the amount of attention paid feels almost like an obvious wink to the audience at times. We get it, this stuff looks like vaginas and penises. But also this is 2024, and we can’t have a legacy franchise installment without at least one appalling execution of unnatural CGI.
The most egregious offense is also the worst of Álvarez’s fan service. It comes in the form of a familiar face who seems much less familiar and much more off-putting thanks to an overreliance on a graphics card. It may not have been so distracting an indulgence as a small scene but it’s as apparent as a facehugger with its tail wrapped around the throat of the narrative.
The movie breathes easier when it leans into being a creature feature, providing new applications of decades-old predators. Álvarez takes the Cameron route of alien usage where more is more. The young crew continually eludes a swarm of skittering facehuggers before a pack of full-grown Xenomorphs take their place in some effective action sequences. They don’t feel repetitive despite the fact that a big part of these movies is the protagonists trying to avoid the same predators.
Though there are fresh perspectives, some of the ideas suffer from feeling too much like a video game. A sequence in which Rain needs to avoid a roomful of acid blood presents an interesting challenge but is accomplished too easily in a way that feels (and looks) like an obstacle in a PlayStation game, depreciating it to an extent.
The introduction of the latest nightmare spawn presents a shock because of its novelty but its distinctiveness makes it feel out of place. It is creepy and scary but foregoes too many of the characteristics that unite the others.
Ultimately, this one feels for the fans, by a fan. The story Álvarez has crafted and the characters he’s created feel authentic to the series but the movie doesn’t have the confidence to exist on its own. In its admiration and respect for the Alien Quadrilogy, Romulus’s reliance on homage overshadows its own contributions. When you’re sitting there, being reminded how great Alien movies are, you start to think “Maybe I should just watch those.”
