Prometheus
Directed By:
Ridley Scott
Written By: Jon
Spaihts and Damon Lindelof
Starring: Noomi
Rapace, Michael Fassbender, Charlize Theron, Idris Elba, Guy Pearce, Logan
Marshall-Green, and Patrick Wilson
Director of Photography: Dariusz Wolski, Editor: Peitro
Scalia, Production Designer: Arthur Max, Original Music: Marc Streitenfeld
WARNING: Like my
review for Cabin in the Woods, I plan
on discussing Prometheus in full,
without any consideration for what are considered “spoilers” If you are curious
to see the film, just go see it. My opinion of whether I liked it or not
shouldn’t be the factor. If you are curious to read on why I think the film
functions as it does, without any consideration for hiding the aspects of the
narrative, then read on. Also, I’m also going to spoil Lost.
In 2010,
the hit ABC series Lost came to an
end with what many considered a crashing thud. For six seasons, audiences
watched a show about constantly accumulating mysteries on an island. Lost fed its hungry fans with more and more—polar
bears in jungles, buttons that saved the universe, alternate timelines—and then
abandoned it all for a spiritual sit down with its characters, discarding the
main reason that it originally drew viewers. For months before the finale,
showrunners Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse warned their fans: “true fans” only
care about their characters; the mysteries were irrelevant.
Why this
long primer on Lost, when the film of
the week, and for many their most anticipated film of the summer, is a prequel
to Alien? Because as much as critics
will be discussing the craft of director Ridley Scott, Prometheus is assuredly a Damon Lindelof work. His hands are all
over this film about a group of scientists traveling to a mysterious planet to
find the origins of life. And in many ways, the faults of Prometheus lie in his blame (though Scott shouldn’t escape all the blame).
Prometheus,
as its mythical title connotes, is not some average blockbuster, or even simply
an entertaining one along the lines of The Avengers. It’s ambitions—both in terms of its goals as a film as well as
philosophically—couldn’t be higher. So one must give credit when one swings for
the fences, only to strike out. The film begins with a bizarre sequence as an
alien humanoid drinks a cup of mysterious liquid, only to die (this sequence
goes strangely unexplained, and it is not the last). We’re soon aboard the
spaceship Prometheus, a foreboding creature aligned with corridors of green and
blue tints, running silently through the galaxy. Scott, shooting in a mixture
of practical sets and 3D technology, gives the ship both a sense of comfort as
well as menace. But while the crew sleeps, a man walks the corridors, or
something pretending to be man.
In the type of role made iconic by
Ian Holm and Lance Hendrickson, Michael Fassbender (sporting a blonde head of
hair modeled off of Lawrence of Arabia)
plays David, the ships resident android. It’s probably not a coincidence that
David shares a name with another human android, that of Spielberg’s Artificial Intelligence. Both yearn for
something more than this world offers them, something their creators have
denied them. But while Spielberg’s David is the protagonist of his tragedy,
Scott and Lindelof’s David is merely ancillary, bringing up issues of identity,
but never actually exploring them.
Instead, our heroine (this is Alien, after all, even without
Sigourney) is the messy haired Elizabeth Shaw, played by former Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (Swedish
edition) star, Noomi Rapace. Elizabeth, along with her fellow scientist in
training Charlie (Logan Marshall-Green), have traveled to the deep corners of
space to find the origin of life, funded by a mysterious (and apparently dead)
entrepreneur. But with Vickers, a stern and angry captain (Charlize Theron), and
Janek, a wise cracking pilot (a very game Idris Elba, playing a variation on
Stringer Bell), also on heading to a planet filled with danger, death is an inevitability.
What would,
or should, a prequel to Alien look
like, or feel like? Each director—Scott, James Cameron, David Fincher, even
Jean-Pierre Jeunet—has left a distinct style on their take on the unstoppable
creatures. Instead of repeating the vast darkness and claustrophobic nature
of Alien, Scott has created a world
built on openness, and discovery. Much of Prometheus
is supposed to be about the awe factor—expansive helicopter shots revealing the
latest in technical wizardry (unlike Michael Bay, Scott at least shows off his
effects so we can see them) in 3D, giving the film “spatial depth” (like most
3D films, it never factored in for me). So why does Prometheus never feel like something new and fresh and exciting?
Part is
because we’re never sure what to focus on in Prometheus, as Lindenlof’s script (based on his rewrite from one by
Jon Spaiths) jumps from plot line to plot line, without any consequence toward
each other. David poisons Charlie with an organic ooze, though his motivation
for doing so is never once explained. Janek and Vickers have a one-night stand,
which only happens in order to set up a death sequence for two others. A
character’s reanimation and murderous rampage goes undiscussed. And even the
film’s bravura sequences—a machine-aided alien abortion that feels like a scene
out of early Cronenberg and had me squirming in my seats—doesn’t even seem to register
on anyone’s radar after it’s over.
Characters
in Prometheus often repeat lines
about the importance of finding the answers to everything, but Lindenlof seems
surprisingly stern against answering much of anything. In many ways, the themes
and textures of Prometheus feel like
a response to Lost fanboyism. The
film constantly poses questions and mysteries, but refuses to answer them. And
Scott seems helpless to do anything to fight the script. There’s nothing wrong
with giving a film having a great whatizit to quote Kiss Me Deadly, but Prometheus
seems obsessed with these central mysteries (many of them that, to pay fan
service, are Easter eggs for diehard Alien
fans). It wouldn’t hurt if we understood more about Elizabeth or Vickers or
David (all who have daddy issues, another popular Lost trope the film leans on) and their motivations. But their main
motivation is to know, and
Lindenlof’s hell bent desire to punish those who would want full answers to why
they are watching this film seems misguided.
Such
scripting issues could be somewhat overlooked if Scott himself brought a
fascination to his visuals, which are at least pretty. But Prometheus’s tone never captures that sense of both fascination and
horror that defined Alien so long
ago. The whole thing, with its Inception-styled
score of bland tones by Marc Steinfeld, seems rushed, constantly moving toward
something new without ever slowing down or considering its narrative. Even the
film’s final sequence—a somewhat similar showdown to Alien’s iconic “Lucky Star” sequence—is rushed to the point where
the film’s tension is only held for a single beat before climaxing. If
anything, Prometheus shows how Scott
has devolved over the decades (though looking over the last decade—Kingdom of Heaven, Body of Lies, Gladiator, A Good Year—may have been warning
signs). The topper is the film’s final beat, in which the special effects team
goes nuts as it finally shows the birth of the original film’s titular
creature. It makes the Marvel post-credit sequences feel subtle in their
execution.
What is
most offensive about Prometheus is
its potential. An iconic franchise, a cast made up of highly regarded
thespians, a bold and visionary premise, and a director who was determined to
return to his roots. Where did Prometheus
go so wrong? There’s so many great threads running underneath—philosophical,
psychosexual, even technical—but none of it seems to register. And Lindenlof,
who seems like the truer architect of this film than Scott, doesn’t seem to
particularly care. If you don’t like his vision, then you aren’t a true fan. Of
course, Prometheus is ultimately
about the danger of asking big questions, so I’m done asking where the hell
this movie went wrong.
1 comment:
great post!
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