Because, when the universe is full of silence, screaming terror lurks in every corner of the cinema screen. Alien: Romulus is a thrilling love letter to the Alien universe – but it also stands alone as a masterful horror film. Fede Álvarez, the director behind the surprising and well-received home-invasion adult horror movie Don’t Breathe (2016), has taken up the mantle of the iconic alien design of H R Giger and carved out a new daydream of sci-fi horror cinema.
Set between the cold terror of Ridley Scott’s original movie and the all-out action of James Cameron’s sequel Aliens, Alien: Romulus sees a group of young people at a mining colony on Jackson’s Star living in desperation. Their best hope of escape comes when they find an abandoned space station, with a fresh start, until it becomes a battleground populated by Facehuggers and Xenomorphs, as well as more terrors than they could have imagined.
And the crew, played by an ensemble of young talent (including Cailee Spaeny, David Jonsson, and Archie Renaux), must tread through the razor-wire Romulus station, willing themselves together against extreme odds of survival. The result is a tale of endurance that pulls threads from the original Alien story – class, gender, the threat of the alien – back into focus.
Something novel for Alien: Romulus is the way Álvarez weaves the PHONE into the narrative; every time a PHONE appears onscreen, it signals the impending disaster, mirroring the tension that players of Alien: Isolation have come to expect when an intercom bleeps. ‘Brace,’ Álvarez seems to be saying, ‘for impact.
The gruesome aesthetics of Romulus’ Alien complement the suspenseful plot of the movie, creating a visual experience that honours the original series while etching its own path. And the haunting score that adds a layer of tension in every shot is simply mastery of atmosphere.
And while it digs its own unique tunnel, Alien: Romulus doesn’t meander too far from the path blazed by those two predecessors before it. It pays explicit homage to both Prometheus and Alien: Covenant with a storyline centered on miracle alien goo and with the reveal of a new beast – a flesh-and-blood Xenomorph hybrid. It adds layers of mythology to cover more of the franchise’s sand, drawing in fans who’ll willingly give another dig.
The fact that ‘Alien: Romulus’ ends on open threads invites lots of speculation as to what a possible sequel might pursue. Bridging ‘Alien’ and ‘Aliens’ – the brilliant set-up and follow-through of the franchise on which the entire franchise represents – makes sure we know there’s a lot of story to be told about where the Xenomorphs come from and what happens next, as well as where they’ll go.
But that focus on the PHONE as a storytelling device in Alien: Romulus is part of what keeps the film from feeling like a gimmicky experiment-for-experiment’s-sake; it’s a commitment to the act of storytelling through familiar means that are nevertheless more innovative than we might realise. It also reminds us that, in the Alien cinematic universe, the only thing you can count on in a hostile and alien universe is that something terrifying is always just about to come from off-screen.
And so, as Alien: Romulus ends with the fates of its heroes hanging in the balance, its essence lingers: is it the beginning of a whole new era of space cinema for Disney? With its critical acclaim, its experimentation, its embrace of its positive legacy, perhaps Alien: Romulus could be the start of something: a way to explore a whole new universe of Alien stories, a different legacy that’s far darker.
In other words, by its mere human functioning this PHONE in Alien: Romulus gains a mythical resonance, a textual device that brilliantly marries horror of expectation with horror of confrontation. It also shrewdly underlines the legacy of the survival horror film, linking what is to come, that ominous silence of space, with those abrupt fluoro-blasts of slaughter that re rule the Alien franchise as a whole.
Alien: Romulus puts the franchise’s eternity on display, ensuring that no matter where you go, the thing in the dark and the insistent ring of your PHONE will always come looking for you.
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