Prometheus

Ridley Scott’s “Prometheus” intrigues with its opening scene and sustains this right up until the end credits, perhaps even after this point: hours after seeing the film, I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it. A semi-prequel to Scott’s science-fiction horror masterpiece “Alien,” it begins rather appropriately with the silent introduction of an extraterrestrial being, but not the one of “Alien” that haunted our nightmares. This alien is tall and humanoid, with a pale complexion and the darkened eyes of a great white. Adorned in a monk’s robe, it stands atop a gargantuan waterfall in the early years of Earth, where it is shown to poison itself. Its apparent sacrifice and subsequent tumble into the flowing waters below breathes human life into our planet. Already, “Prometheus” is stirring.

We travel forward to the year 2089 and find ourselves in the mountainous landscape of the Isle of Skye in bonny Scotland. Here, archeologist couple Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace, the original girl with the dragon tattoo) and Charlie Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green, “Devil”) discover a cave painting depicting humans worshipping a constellation, the same constellation they have seen etched into the cave walls of other ancient civilisations, none of which ever shared any contact. Shaw, whose neck dangles a crucifix, sheds a tear at the sight. Investigation into the skies above shows that this constellation exists in a far-off corner of the universe, and that sitting within it is a sun similar to our own, and a moon capable of sustaining life. Intriguing.

We jump forward four years to 2093, and we are voyaging through the unending darkness of space (where no one can hear you scream), following this constellation along with the spacecraft Prometheus, named after the titan who stole fire from the gods. Aboard are Shaw and Holloway, who awake from cryogenic suspension along with a ragtag crew of scientists of various different fields who are ready for anything, except what they find. Their mission, to see what the hell’s out there, is funded by now-dead multibillionaire tycoon Peter Weyland (Guy Pearce, unrecognisable under old-man make-up), and overseen by stony-faced executive Meredith Vickers (Charlize Theron, just as much of an ice queen as she was in “Snow White and the Huntsman”).

Also in amongst the crew is David (Michael Fassbender, “Shame”), whom Weyland comments in a grandiose hologram presentation is the closest thing he has ever had to a son. David is an android, much like Ian Holm’s Ash in “Alien” and Lance Henriksen’s Bishop in “Aliens,” although much more the former. As the crew hibernate for two years on the ship, we are shown David’s daily routine: he keeps the craft in ship-shape condition, cycles in the gym while shooting hoops, learns archaic languages, dyes his hair an Aryan blonde and, interestingly, studies and mimics Peter O’Toole’s performance in David Lean’s “Lawrence of Arabia.” As David, Fassbender is a striking, almost hypnotic presence, lifelike yet not entirely human: of course, one wonders if David shall honour that time-old movie tradition of a robot that suddenly develops a mind of its own. I shall say no more.

Prometheus lands on the alien moon, dubbed LV-223 by us Earthlings, and what a sensational sight it is: a dusty, almost dead terrain, it is a world of skull-modeled mountains and suffocating, shard-splintering sand storms. The only sign of life spotted by the crew is a magnificent temple that looms large over what looks like a runway. That is, until they enter the dark and murky tombs below, where a whole assortment of tentacular grotesquery is set in horrible, violent motion. But I won’t let loose any specific details: “Prometheus” is one of those films that benefits from a lack of prior knowledge, although come to think of it, the same could be said of any film, could it not?

If you’ve seen “Alien,” and I implore you to if you have not, you may recall an ominous figure discovered by the Nostromo crew in a derelict alien ship mere seconds before that infamous facehugger greeted John Hurt with a big, wet, impregnating kiss on the lips. Labelled by fans as the “space jockey,” the figure (designed by H. R. Giger) was the long-dormant skeleton of a giant being sitting in a pilot’s seat, a hole in its chest and an expression of anguish and terror permanently attached to its snouted face. Much debated since the film’s release in 1979, the origins of the space jockey are one of the many topics explored in “Prometheus,” which answers several oft-repeated queries surrounding the “Alien” quadrilogy, and ultimately probes even more questions in a manner that is as fascinating as it is frustrating: it’s often like a stereotypical priest, answering questions with more questions.

But these are not the truly big questions raised in “Prometheus,” which gallantly leaps face-first into themes of existentialism and faith, though perhaps its leap isn’t far enough, nor forceful enough. Jon Spaihts and Damon Lindelof’s script boldly journeys into treacherous territories that are frankly out of its depth, ending up crippled under the immense weight of such earth-shattering questions: why are we here, who made us, and why? Still, one must admire and commend their ambition in attempting such a feat: most big-budget studio blockbusters wouldn’t dare poke or nudge such controversial subjects with a 10-foot pole for fear of having them stir from their slumber and bite them in the ass.

“Prometheus” unashamedly takes on board much of the same narrative structure as “Alien” and James Cameron’s action-packed sequel, “Aliens:” a crew of intrepid space-travellers step foot on an alien planet, are handed much more than they bargained for and are forced into a desperate, seemingly unwinnable fight for survival, which of course sees many of them meeting their makers, although here they do that in more ways than one. We even have our own Ripley, with Rapace’s Shaw undergoing a convincing, deftly handled transformation from bookish, religious science geek to axe-wielding heroine: Rapace is well cast. But this, dear readers, is most definitely a Xenomorph of a different colour.

The film, in contrast with its predecessors’ claustrophobic moods, is an epic spectacle, frothing at the seams with beautifully rendered special effects and showcasing a grand, breathtaking scale. It is crammed full of beguiling elements that maybe don’t mesh together as well as they should, but they’re enthralling and approached with a nail-biting, nerve-shredding intensity by Scott. Mysterious life forms slither through thick tar; a giant, monolithic face of stone watches over a cemetery of leaking urns; dead alien bodies litter the passageways of an intricate underground cave system. All of these beg the inevitable, irresistible, mouth-watering question: just what exactly is going on on LV-223?

But don’t ask me: I’m divulging no spoilers, or as few as I can. What I will say about “Prometheus" is that it is an overwhelming, wholly engrossing experience assembled with intelligence and imagination. It has the power to surprise and astonish, and it uses this often. Like so many of Scott’s films, it is a technical masterclass, but unlike his “Alien” it lacks a focus and spirals wildly out of control during its third act. Still, I remained intrigued, and “Prometheus” is nothing if not intriguing.

8/10