Alien: Romulus an effective return to form
Obviously a student of the Alien
franchise, writer/director Fede Alvarez has managed to do
something that I thought was impossible – he’s delivered a worthy
addition to the series, a feat that’s proved elusive for many
filmmakers and one that proves to be an effective callback to the
Ridley Scott classic. Taking place between Alien and the 1985
follow-up Aliens, Romulus focuses on a group of young workers
who find themselves stranded on a far-off mining colony, overseen by
the omnipresent, ever-evil Weyland-Yutani Corporation. Having been
told her contract has been increased by 12 years, Rain (Cailee
Spaeny) is desperate to get back home, so much so that she agrees to
go along with a desperate plan to escape.
Approached by her friend Kay (Isabel
Merced), whose brother Tyler (Archie Renaux) she once dated, she’s
told of a deactivated docking station that’s drifting into the
orbit of the planet where she’s stranded. It contains cryogenic
chambers that would allow her and her cohorts to sleep long enough to
make the trip back to Earth. All that needs to be done is to take the
units off the ship, install them on another, go to sleep and set the
autopilot for home. Easy peasy.
Along for the ride are hotshot pilot
Navarro (Aileen Wu), motormouth Bjorn (Spike Fearn) and the synthetic
Andy (David Jonsson, a standout), whose prime directive is to watch
out for Rain, whose absent father has programmed him to do so.
Damaged and lacking updates, he’s a bit slower than other cyborgs,
yet his “heart” is in the right place, his allegiance to her
unquestionable, their bond unshakeable.
Of course, once this crew reaches
the derelict ship and starts their salvage operation, things go
sideways in a spectacular, horrific manner as the craft’s cargo
includes not one, but many, many xenomorphs who’ve been waiting for
fresh hosts.
Alvarez has done his research and
with production designer Naaman Marshall and cinematographer Galo
Olivares, they’ve replicated the look and feel of the 1979
original, creating a seamless connection to the previous film that
proves vital. Callbacks to that movie occur throughout, none of them
gratuitous, all logical allusions that give depth and resonance to
the story. But more importantly, it returns the franchise to a more
intimate scale that creates a much more ominous, claustrophobic
setting, which Alvarez exploits to great effect.
Wisely, Alvarez takes a very
deliberate approach to the story, which serves a dual purpose. Not
only is time taken for the necessary world building to reestablish
and expand on the Alien universe, but tension is built by
delaying the requisite scares. However, once they begin, Alvarez
delivers the goods with one imaginative sequence after another,
putting the characters in situations of peril that are suspenseful,
as well as fun. In the end, I found myself grinning over how clever
the film is more than looking at it through threaded fingers.
And while there are many good things
at play, the film suffers in two glaring areas. Like so many modern
action epics, Alvarez doesn’t realize when he’s overstayed his
welcome. Third-act bloat sets in, as Rain must go back again and
again to face the saliva-dripping, multi-jawed threat, the suspense
ruined by the repeated cycle of familiar narrative beats. More
egregious are two visual effects sequences that are so slipshod they
take us out of the story. While Alvarez’s intention to use
practical effects throughout is commendable, this approach results in
some obviously slipshod work.
Still and all, Romulus proves
to be a return to form that’s been absent for far too long in the
franchise. Cheaply rendered sequels, B-movie team-ups and
over-thought prequels have made for a frustratingly inconsistent
series of movies. And while not perfect, this latest entry gets
things back on firmer ground by delivering a smart story, intriguing
science-fiction and the sorts of thrills viewers embraced when this
saga first began. In theaters.
Sweet Penguin a welcome surprise
It’s well-documented that having a
pet is therapeutic, providing companionship, a sense of purpose and
myriad other benefits. And while most opt to adopt a dog or cat, Joao
Pereira de Souza found himself giving shelter to a wayward penguin.
Based on a story that went viral in 2016, David Schurmann’s My
Penguin Friend tells the story of this unusual friendship, one
necessitated by need, sustained by loyalty.
The film begins with a heartrending
tragedy as we witness the tragic death of de Souza’s son, a burden
the man refuses to put down as the years go by. Shattered, his fellow
villagers look at the fisherman as a lost cause, shuffling through
life with little purpose. However, fate brings him the most unlikely
companion as he finds an injured penguin on the Brazilian beach where
he lives. Having encountered an oil slick after drifting away from a
raft of migrating penguins, the wayward bird is in dire need of
assistance. Taking him in, de Souza cleans up, feeds and nurses the
exhausted little guy back to health.
Reluctant to let him go, de Souza is
soon wandering about town with the bird, given the name Dim Dim by a
local, the duo becoming a fixture in the little village. That is,
until our hero awakens one morning to find his companion has returned
to the sea.
Yet, that’s not the end of the
story as the bird returns, year after year at approximately the same
time, a feat documented by a group of scientists who just happened to
encounter and tag Dim Dim. They estimate he traveled nearly 5,000
miles between Argentina and Brazil, making the trip for eight years.
Truly a remarkable story, Kristen
Lazarian and Paulina Ulrich embellish the tale in their screenplay
but never to point of making it maudlin or fantastic. As de Souza,
Jean Reno brings a soulfulness to the role, conveying the character’s
heartbreak and hope with small gestures and expressions. Knowing the
bird is the true star, he takes a subtle approach that proves
effective.
I fear this film will likely be lost
amidst the bigger budgeted blockbusters that clog multiplexes during
the summer season. That would be a shame, as this is not simply a
wholesome, family film that refuses to pander to the audience, but a
movie that contains a message we all need to hear. As a reporter
documenting the story says about these events, “It gives me hope. I
need that.” Right now, we could all use a healthy dose of what
Penguin has to offer. In theaters.
Crazy Cuckoo an off-kilter surprise
This year is quickly becoming “the year of the accurate movie title.” M.
Night Shyamalan’s Trap was an aptly named affair, one in
which the viewer was likely to feel ensnared by the inanity of the
nonsensical script. Now comes Tilman Singer’s Cuckoo, a film
that takes the concept of its title and runs with it. The setting is
a remote resort in the German Alps, a rather rundown enterprise badly
in need of a renovation. Fortunately, its owner, Herr Konig (Dan
Stevens), has a former client, Luis (Marton Csokas), who happens be an
architect and agrees to move his family there while the overhaul is
completed. In tow are his wife, Beth (Jessica Henwick), their
daughter Alma (Mila Lieu) and his other daughter from a previous
marriage, Gretchen (Hunter Schafer), a teenager who is not happy to
be there.
Made to feel like a third wheel from
the start, she pouts and keeps to herself, while the others engage in
family activities. Left alone, Gretchen soon discovers something’s
not quite right with their new digs. Herr Konig is a bit too
intrusive where the family is concerned and has a strangely intimate
relationship with the local hospital. She also notes that many of the
guests are young women who always seem to be nauseous or ill at ease,
while Alma herself begins to act in ways that defy explanation. And
the fact that a strange woman has been seen lurking in the woods
certainly doesn’t put her at ease.
Singer does a masterful job of
doling out just enough information to keep us hooked, as well as
asking questions. While some may feel he holds his narrative cards a
bit too close to his chest for most of the film, this approach peaks
the viewers’ sense of curiosity rather than stoking a sense of
frustration. The foreboding atmosphere proves effective as well, as
the resort seems mostly cut off from the rest of the world, the
surrounding forests increasing the sense of isolation and feelings of
entrapment.
As for the logic of the film, it
certainly wouldn’t hold up to any serious scientific scrutiny, but
within the world of the movie, it all seems to make sense. The
narrative mechanism Singer concocts is one that constantly pushes the
boundaries of good taste as well as our expectations. That I was
surprised by where the story went is an all-too-rare experience and a
welcome one.
It should come as no surprise that
this is not for all tastes, but horror aficionados will likely be
well pleased with Cuckoo. While it delivers plenty of
cringe-worthy moments, it’s the knowing humor that helps sustain
this strange concoction, one that is best viewed with a raucous crowd
and, if one is available, an ornithologist. In theaters.
This article appears in Battling blight.
