Prometheus
Directed by Ridley Scott
Written by Jon Spaihts and Damon Lindelof
Written by Jon Spaihts and Damon Lindelof
with Noomi Rapace, Michael Fassbender, Idris Elba
2012
Ridley Scott’s assertion that Prometheus wasn’t going to be a true prequel to the Alien films always sounded a bit strange given that he admitted it would be set in the same universe, and that it would expand upon the mysterious wreck discovered in his own original installment. Now it’s been released it's easy to see why he felt justified in saying this, as his return to the series, while still technically a distant prequel, bears hardly any resemblance to the first in either tone or method.
After a suggestive but not particularly enlightening opening scene, the film moves to the Isle of Skye in the late 21st century. Two scientists, Shaw (Noomi Rapace) and Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green), come across a set of cave paintings which prove to be the oldest of a set of artifacts dating from all over human history, all depicting the same star constellation. Closer inspection demonstrates that one of the stars has a planet in orbit. Jumping forward a few years, we find ourselves in the final stages of a long spaceflight to the planet, with the crew and passengers of the Prometheus coming out of their sleep as the craft nears its destination. A team of scientists, including, as well as Shaw and Holloway, a botanist (Rafe Spall), a geologist (Sean Harris) and a medic (Kate Dickie) has been sent on an expedition to make contact with whoever left their trace on Earth. The presence of the same symbol in so many civilisations that could never have had contact has precipitated the belief that it represents an outside presence throughout human history, one that would have almost certainly influenced us a great deal. As such this is a quest with the lofty aim of ultimately explaining our origins, although as it is funded by the Weyland Corportion - the shady 'Company' present throughout the series - there is inevitably an ulterior motive of greed behind the mission.
As is to be expected from Scott, the world of the film is beautifully realised; it can't compete with Blade Runner, or even Gladiator, but it's still full of details that give the sense of a living world stretching beyond what you see on screen. (If you see the pricier version of the film, you might be disturbed to notice that sometime between now and the 2090s Lawrence of Arabia will be converted into 3D.) Although it suffers from the same sci-fi prequel problems as the Star Wars films, in that the increased resources available to the filmmakers proved an irresistable counterforce to the reverse-engineering of the world's technology, it's less of a problem here than in George Lucas's case. The Alien films always emphasised the remoteness of interplanetary civilisation; the technology in them is grubby and utilitarian-looking, with not a great deal of effort put in to portraying the stage of human advance as a whole. The Nostromo may have been built later, but it was also a mining ship cruising around the middle of nowhere, and so its comparative crappiness next to the brand-new sheen of the Prometheus isn't problematic. Having said that, I think you'd be hard pressed to stand Michael Fassbender next to Ian Holm and claim the latter was a newer model of robot, unless Holm's stocky grumpiness was a deliberate attempt at making him better blend in with normal people.
The contrasts in appearance, however, are indicative of deeper differences than just the visual. Alien is a masterpiece of stripped aesthetic: the functional-industrial look of the Nostromo perfectly suited to the famous haunted-house-in-space concept of that film. Accordingly, the themes therein wouldn’t be out of place in a more thoughtful horror movie, dealing with the survival instinct, pragmatism vs humanity, a new and excitingly messed-up way of being killed, etc. Prometheus is far more direct science fiction, direct in that it is unambiguously a genre piece: no toying with expectations or genre-blending here, but a vastly inflated self-importance in keeping with typical science fiction themes of self-discovery, technology as a deus ex machina, and the relationship between creator and creation. More than anything else, this can be attributed to taking three decades of a building legend, then introducing the limitless possibilities of CGI and a colossal budget: it’s all understandable, but it's what distances the film from the best aspects of the original. One of the most inspired elements of H R Giger’s design, fitting snugly alongside the general sexual neuroses and gaping wounds, is the biomechanical aspect of the creature, with its sliding parts and streamlined dexterity. The Alien tradition holds a lot of potential for exploring the idea of intelligent design, and more interestingly the potential to do it as an adapted body horror, perverting the divine origins of traditional creation myths by turning us into a lab experiment. Prometheus isn’t short on the bloodier, wetter aspects of the series but altogether it is more ambitious; Shaw believes the extraterrestrials left the pointer to their location as an “invitation” to come find them once humans were capable of doing so. That resemblance to 2001: A Space Odyssey is a clue to the grandeur aimed at here, but unfortunately it's not done particularly well and suffers from excessively 'meaningful' details that don't have enough substance behind them. Naming your spaceship Prometheus when you are looking for God is almost as hubristic a tempting of irony as naming it Icarus and setting course for the Sun.
As is to be expected from Scott, the world of the film is beautifully realised; it can't compete with Blade Runner, or even Gladiator, but it's still full of details that give the sense of a living world stretching beyond what you see on screen. (If you see the pricier version of the film, you might be disturbed to notice that sometime between now and the 2090s Lawrence of Arabia will be converted into 3D.) Although it suffers from the same sci-fi prequel problems as the Star Wars films, in that the increased resources available to the filmmakers proved an irresistable counterforce to the reverse-engineering of the world's technology, it's less of a problem here than in George Lucas's case. The Alien films always emphasised the remoteness of interplanetary civilisation; the technology in them is grubby and utilitarian-looking, with not a great deal of effort put in to portraying the stage of human advance as a whole. The Nostromo may have been built later, but it was also a mining ship cruising around the middle of nowhere, and so its comparative crappiness next to the brand-new sheen of the Prometheus isn't problematic. Having said that, I think you'd be hard pressed to stand Michael Fassbender next to Ian Holm and claim the latter was a newer model of robot, unless Holm's stocky grumpiness was a deliberate attempt at making him better blend in with normal people.
The contrasts in appearance, however, are indicative of deeper differences than just the visual. Alien is a masterpiece of stripped aesthetic: the functional-industrial look of the Nostromo perfectly suited to the famous haunted-house-in-space concept of that film. Accordingly, the themes therein wouldn’t be out of place in a more thoughtful horror movie, dealing with the survival instinct, pragmatism vs humanity, a new and excitingly messed-up way of being killed, etc. Prometheus is far more direct science fiction, direct in that it is unambiguously a genre piece: no toying with expectations or genre-blending here, but a vastly inflated self-importance in keeping with typical science fiction themes of self-discovery, technology as a deus ex machina, and the relationship between creator and creation. More than anything else, this can be attributed to taking three decades of a building legend, then introducing the limitless possibilities of CGI and a colossal budget: it’s all understandable, but it's what distances the film from the best aspects of the original. One of the most inspired elements of H R Giger’s design, fitting snugly alongside the general sexual neuroses and gaping wounds, is the biomechanical aspect of the creature, with its sliding parts and streamlined dexterity. The Alien tradition holds a lot of potential for exploring the idea of intelligent design, and more interestingly the potential to do it as an adapted body horror, perverting the divine origins of traditional creation myths by turning us into a lab experiment. Prometheus isn’t short on the bloodier, wetter aspects of the series but altogether it is more ambitious; Shaw believes the extraterrestrials left the pointer to their location as an “invitation” to come find them once humans were capable of doing so. That resemblance to 2001: A Space Odyssey is a clue to the grandeur aimed at here, but unfortunately it's not done particularly well and suffers from excessively 'meaningful' details that don't have enough substance behind them. Naming your spaceship Prometheus when you are looking for God is almost as hubristic a tempting of irony as naming it Icarus and setting course for the Sun.
Like many recent Ridley Scott films Prometheus suffers from a lack of focus in the script, especially in terms of wrapping up the narrative. As in Robin Hood, a large amount of time is spent laying out the backstory and the ideas behind it, but the film fails to run with them, giving the impression that the filmmakers never really decided what they wanted to happen and resorted to filling out the last section of the film with whatever would arrive at an ending. Perhaps in this case it can be attributed to an aim to set up a sequel or two that lead directly on from this film and expand the epic quest begun here, without ever going near the later Alien films - though it obviously results in a less satisfying experience in the first place. Prometheus has an excellent cast, but they feel slightly wasted. Charlize Theron’s character doesn’t have nearly as much impact as you feel she should; a major ‘reveal’ towards the end is neither much of a surprise nor of any real consequence, except to illustrate the morally corrupt ambition of another character who similarly ends up a rather underwhelming presence. Also, the relationships between characters, particularly Idris Elba and his crew (Benedict Wong and Emun Elliott), are not developed sufficiently for certain moments of loyalty and sacrifice to have as much power as they might, even while the actors themselves are very good. Michael Fassbender deserves the praise he is receiving for his sinisterly ambiguous portrayal of ‘synthetic human’ David, although I realised towards the end of the film that, for all the quoting of T E Lawrence, who he most reminded me of was one of the “Suits you” men from The Fast Show (“There we are, sir. Nice and clean”). Overall, it's an enjoyable, above-average, but flawed sci-fi adventure. Done right, a further installment that picks up some of the loose ends could make the whole thing look better.
Tom
0 comments:
Post a Comment