Before Prometheus started generating the amount of hype it received before release, the Alien franchise had been floundering to an almost depressing degree. In the 90’s, the third installment had come and gone, and a little less than 5 years later, we were given a “sequel” that I refuse to acknowledge as a legitimate entry in an otherwise bold and dignified film series. Since that movie was enough to kill the franchise for the remainder of the 20th century, the xenomorph itself wouldn’t show up again until 2004 and 2007, when Hollywood finally decided to mine Dark Horse’s successful Aliens vs. Predator comics and butcher that concept on the big screen…twice. I’m not going to lie: many years went by where the Alien franchise no longer registered in the periphery of my mind. As far as I was concerned, and as Ridley Scott would later remark, “the beast was cooked” and had gone the way of Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, and Freddy Kreuger—accessible, familiar, and overdone.
Of course, there were a lot of attempts behind-the-scenes to push Alien back into the limelight, with James Cameron reportedly wanting to collaborate with Ridley Scott on a fifth installment in the early 2000’s (Cameron would later contend that the studio derailed the possibility of a fifth film in order to develop AVP instead). After that fell through, there was silence. But then rumblings began of an Alien prequel that Ridley Scott himself was developing. With every bit of news that trickled out, this mystery prequel had everyone talking. It wasn’t going to have ‘Alien’ in the title, it wasn’t going to be a direct prequel, and bigger ideas would be explored. That’s when my ears perked up. The fact that those bigger ideas would be tied to the infamous Space Jockey sealed the deal, and my love affair with Alien was reborn.
Anyone reading this can agree that the hype machine was in maximum overdrive in the months leading up to Prometheus’ release. Speculation and fan theories were wall-to-wall. People (including myself) freaked out with each new trailer, firmly entrenched in the belief that this was going to be more of a direct prequel than Ridley Scott was letting on. Chalk it up to brilliant marketing, but this was a very unconventional approach. Our collective nostalgia for the original film was heightened, but at the same time, there were a lot of fresh ingredients in the mix. It only stands to reason that the actual movie itself would fall short of our wildest expectations.
After walking out of the first midnight screening, there was a lot to process, but my initial reaction to Prometheus was a lot more positive than others were at the time. While some were hung up on the perceived pretentiousness of the subject matter and the ignorance of several characters (and I’m inclined to agree with the latter criticisms), others were unhappy with the sheer volume of open-ended questions that were presented throughout the film as well as the complete absence of xenomorphs. Ironically, those ended up being my favorite aspects of Prometheus. I honestly can’t tell you how long I discussed and debated the attributes of Prometheus with fans of the series, but I was instantly enthralled by the sheer scope of its ambitions and ideas. The enigmatic Space Jockey was now characterized as a powerful, ancient, and dangerous species whose designs for Earth and countless other planets in the galaxy could give way to a wealth of stories beyond anything we’ve seen or read. The black pathogen was a complete game changer as well, offering up the idea of an endless plethora of deadly creatures that could be just as memorable and terrifying as the xenomorph itself (technically, they’re all xenomorphs, but you get the point).
A couple years later, an early draft screenplay by Jon Spaihts began circulating online. Unlike Prometheus, Alien: Engineers was intended to serve as a direct prequel to the original film and went as far as to utilize several variations of the classic xenomorph. While I have to give it due credit for introducing the loftier ideas that Prometheus ultimately ran with, such as the connection between humanity and the Engineers themselves, it would have been detrimental to the franchise’s evolution or at least forced it to go in an entirely different direction, such as a reboot or post-Alien3 sequel instead of a follow-up prequel. Take that how you will. Personally, though, I think Prometheus being more of a nexus point from which an entirely new mythology could emerge rather than a steppingstone to a storyline we’re already familiar with was such a novel idea, and I believe it still is.
The movie doesn’t afford itself the kind of visceral straightforwardness that the original movies benefitted from, so its flaws are more glaring, but it all depends on how hung up you want to be on those flaws. Yes, it is incredibly stupid for a biologist to even try coddling an alien that has the head of a cobra and the mouth of a vagina. It’s a bad idea all around, but so was Kane peeking into an insidious-looking egg on an ancient spacecraft. We must accept that the screenplay called for these moments of stupidity in order to advance the story and show us the fallout from those very poor, very human choices. At the end of the day, what we remember most is the Facehugger latching onto Kane’s helmet and the Hammerpede breaking its victim’s arm to breach his suit and ultimately, his gullet. I also chalk it up to the fact that we’re a lot more discerning about the finer details in movies these days. It’s all a matter of how bad you personally think those blemishes are.
In short, Prometheus stands tall as a unique entry in the Alien saga. There is a definite oneness with the Alien universe that can be felt, but it also dares to aim higher than the average person would expect from an Alien film. That’s what makes it so special, even if it couldn’t meet or exceed the expectations of its audience.
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