Prometheus

Looks delicious!

“The trick is not minding that it’s derivative and brainless.”

 

It’s been generally agreed upon that Prometheus’ biggest failing is how closely it resembles a dolled-up remake of its retroactive sequel (is that the term?) 1979 sci-fi horror masterpiece Alien. When I first saw the movie, this actually surprised me – because, frankly, I was expecting more from the creative team.

The problem with doing Alien over again is how influential and original it was. The other movie Prometheus cribs from, 2001: A Space Odyssey, had brought the cramped, lonely, gritty vision of space travel into the public consciousness over a decade before, but Alien showed just how scary that vision could be. A lot of the real horror in the movie came from the classic fear of the unknown, with each plot twist and main character death being both a surprise and a primal scare, thanks to H.R. Giger’s revolutionary designs.

The subversion of expectation even extended to a metafictional scale: unlike in other horror movies, the first few characters to die were played by the best-known actors (John Hurt and Harry Dean Stanton), and the captain, who’s been set up as the protagonist, is gruesomely killed off halfway through the movie to let the previously supporting character of Ripley to take charge. When James Cameron was hired to do the sequel, he realized that doing another tense slasher-style horror film wouldn’t work a second time. Instead, he made a dramatic and emotional action movie, which worked beautifully both to continue and build on the original work.

With Prometheus, if we’ve seen Alien, we can pretty much guess the whole plot after a few scenes: People will die gruesome deaths, the more badass ones will sacrifice themselves to save the ship, the robot will turn out to be evil, and the only one left will be the frizzy-haired, wholesome brunette. Apparently, Ridley Scott swore up and down that Charlize Theron would be the sole survivor, but news flash: If people expect it, no amount of lying will make it a plot twist.

Now, even stripped of all its history, the movie never really goes above decent to above average. This is mainly because the Alien ripoff scenes clash in tone and pacing to the other ones, making the whole experience feel a bit mixed if you think about it too hard. And while it could be argued that I should meet it on its own terms and give it a fair chance, it’s not a point in the movie’s favor if I have to go down to its level to enjoy it.

Since this is my first stab at this reviewing format, I’ll give you a couple of caveats before I start the recap portion: First, I’ll try not to bring up the huge amount of inconsistencies, plot holes, and instances of characters acting stupid that occur in the film, because they’ve all been brought up dozens of times before, by much better-known critics than me. Second, This is going to be pretty exhaustive, but that’s because I’m writing this as sort of a stream of consciousness as I watch the movie over again. And last, but not least, no spoiler will be spared. You have been warned.

We open on a very color-washed montage of the beauty of Earth: Majestic mountains, stirring seas, lush landscapes, awesome alliteration. You know the drill. This isn’t some David Attenborough documentary, though, so it’s not too long until we actually start getting some real movie stuff: a huge, indistinct flying saucer, overlooking a waterfall.

A robed figure saunters up to the side of the waterfall. We see it’s a Greek statue made flesh, complete with tasteful loincloth – that’s right, even when you’re the only living being on the entire planet, no one wants to see your nether regions.

Yes, I'm including Rocky IV's Ivan Drago in that count

The best pecs on a sci-fi villain since Ricardo Montalban’s Khan.

But all is not well for Whitey MacMuscles here: As his ship takes off, he takes out a bowl, filled with caviar from beyond the stars, which he eats. He must be allergic, though, because he immediately doubles over, growling in pain, and collapses into the water as black slime corrodes him from the inside, congealing his very DNA. Man, I feel for you; those are some bad allergies. Worst I ever got was a few days of hives.

As the title appears, we see Mr. MacMuscles’ DNA is thriving, as it forms a cell that starts multiplying – which is a little weird, considering we saw the same stuff turn to ash not fifteen seconds ago. According to director Ridley Scott, what we just saw was how all life on Earth began – and it was pretty disappointing. I much prefer Sir Terry Pratchett’s theory that all life evolved from a half-eaten sandwich left in the ocean by the creator of the universe – but maybe that’s just because I don’t like caviar.

After a fade to black, we start to hear Graham Chapman’s servant banging coconuts together…oh wait, never mind, it’s only Noomi Rapace’s Dr. Elizabeth Ripley – Shaw, I mean. Warrant Officer Ellen Shaw. Ugh, forget it.

Anyway, Dr. Shaw is excavating something with a shovel. She’s found something important, and she celebrates by sending out for take-out love interest. It’s a little too long before she gets it, but it’s still hot: Charlie Holloway, played by Logan Marshall-Guy-I haven’t-heard-of. Holloway is amazed by the discovery: An ancient cave painting, showing wispy figures pointing up to some floating dinner rolls. Apparently the dinner rolls are the important part: they’re in “The same configuration”, says Holloway. The tearful Dr. Shaw agrees: “They want us to come and find them.” So, this is how this ponderous, philosophical and visceral horror movie begins: With the cosmic equivalent of “For a good time, call…”

I've read wordier bathroom graffiti, to be honest.

“Here I sit / broken-hearted / rebelled against my highly dogmatic people / and created new life.”

Cut to the Whatever-S-S Prometheus. While Alien’s Nostromo looked like the results of a game of Jenga with Half-Life 2’s Citadel, this goes for a more conventional spaceship design, and succeeds: If you take time to look at the establishing shots, you’ll see that they’ve basically cribbed a little from every famous movie spaceship ever: Tubular, glowing blue engines from the Starship Enterprise, a slow rotating movement like 2001’s Discovery, a similar pyramid-shaped section to the back of a Star Destroyer, and it’s even shaped just like the spaceship from Galaxy Quest!

Though the eye snake that transforms into a penis snake comes a close second.

By Grabthar’s hammer, this ship is the best piece of original art direction in the entire movie!

On the ship, Michael Fassbender as David the Robot watches the sleeping Dr. Shaw, in cryostasis. He interfaces with her yellow-stained memories (“Her Yellow-Stained Memories” is a great name for a rock band, by the way), where a younger and British-er Dr. Shaw talks with her father about the afterlife, the latter insisting on the existence of “Heaven – Paradise – whatever you want to call it, a beautiful place”. When challenged, he says “This is what I choose to believe.” He doesn’t add “Remember that”, because Ridley Scott remembered what subtlety was at this point, and wisely has David end the flashback.

David goes about his business, and we see here that the insides of the Prometheus, in contrast with its brand-new exterior, are basically those of those of the Nostromo given a spit-shine, some CGI software and higher ceilings. This marks the first use of what I’m going to call the Mythology Fallback : Where, when making a sequel (or a prequel, in this case) to a beloved movie, you just do the exactly same thing as the beloved movie did because it worked there, regardless of how much you’ve changed everything else. This problem so plagues Prometheus that I now want to rewatch the movie with someone who’s never seen Alien, to see their reaction.

Anyway, back to David. Though his mundane activities like playing basketball and watching movies establish a Data-from-Star-Trek-like desire to emulate humanity, this sequence overall reminds me of the opening of WALL-E; showing his almost darkly comedic solitary existence, as he imitates Peter O’Toole and combs his hair in the mirror, like a nervous guy getting ready for a date. Soon, we see that comparison might be literal, as the lights dim and Charlize Theron shows up wearing a couple of napkins and some Vaseline, telling David to wake up the rest of the crew after their 2-year sleep.

We’ve just hit the 14-minute mark, which I note because this concludes the longest continuous non-ripoff-of-Alien-scenes streak that we’ll get until the climax of the movie. To hammer home that we’re essentially watching a remake, we get a repeat of the character-establishing mealtime scene, introducing us to the remaining crewmembers, who are talking to a bored Holloway and vomiting Shaw: Captain Idris Elba, a few redshirts, two pilots who barely even get named and might as well have a hive mind for all the difference they make to the plot, Scottish misanthrope Fifield his comically-mismatched buddy Millburn. In fairness, the ‘mealtime crew introduction scene’ trope stretches all the way back to 2001: A Space Odyssey, but the fact remains that the only real change from the original is that there’s a Christmas tree on the table instead of a cat. This is the most noticeable diversion from Alien, in my mind – all the original’s sexual symbolism (I won’t try to list every example of or we’d be here all day) replaced with religious symbolism. Enjoy this celebration of the birth of our god, folks – it’s not like we’re on a mission to find the creators of life on Earth, which would mean there’s a perfect ironic setup if those creators turn out to be evil.

This next scene isn’t a Mythology Fallback, but it’s something even worse: Exposition via having a guy point to a chart and talk about it. The best kind of exposition is the kind that is given smoothly as the narrative progresses. What you shouldn’t do is just stop everything to take us to a holodeck and have a recording of Old-Guy Pearce yammering about robots and gods, before Holloway brings up his charts to show that people have been complaining about floating dinner rolls since the dawn of man. According to Dr. Shaw’s theory, the drawings actually star coordinates drawn for us by our creators, “The Engineers”. When challenged as to why this theory is worth sending a huge ship to investigate, Dr. Shaw says it’s “what I choose to believe.” We get a quick reaction shot from David at this – he’s a movie buff, he knows a ham-fisted line like this when he hears it.

"The trick, Potter, is not minding that it hurts."

All of a sudden I wonder how Alan Rickman would have handled this part.

There’s no luck for David, or us, because the next scene is basically nothing but Foreshadowing Theatre: Charlize Theron is a jerk with all the real power on the ship, she’s got her own escape pod and super-dee-duper medicine cabinet, and she’s forbidding the science heros from doing any of their science heroics. Then, in a nice shift, we get some actually good exposition: The ship flies down to the planet’s surface and goes in for a landing at a man-made object that they find within a minute of starting their search, because that’s how planets work in science fiction. The exposition (that you can’t breathe the air, there is nothing alive on the planet, and that David likes quoting Lawrence of Arabia) comes interspersed with actual stuff going on, and beautiful shots of the ship gliding over land, giving the scene a real sense of grandeur.

It's much more relatable than most of the cast, you'll have to admit.

I’m starting to see why the movie is called “Prometheus”: It’s because the ship is the best character in the movie.

Next comes more Alien stuff: You’ve got your banter as characters put on their space suits, you’ve got your survey of a strange and scary environment as characters crack jokes to break the tension. Because we’ve got fancy CGI, we get a big ol’ Engineer skyscraper instead of just a submerged ship as in the original. And instead of having to crawl around the tunnels, we can just use bright red floating thingies (Sweet Christmas! It’s always something!) to explore. Gee, those would have been convenient more than a few times in the Alien movies.

Soon, the Caco-scanners say that the air inside the skyscraper is breathable, so everyone can take off their helmets. This is done so the actors can emote more easily…I mean, so it foreshadows the fact that the Engineers are human. I guess.

But before that, we have to spell things out for those who haven’t seen Alien and therefore probably like this movie much more than I did. And so, instead of the simple and powerful image of a mutilated skeleton in the pilot chair of the alien’s ship, we have David find some security camera footage from beyond the stars, which shows lots of giant people running from something, with one guy stumbling and then going still – and we still get a mutilated skeleton, immediately afterwards; from which they take the head, for study. At this, Fifield and Millburn (they fight crime!) freak out and head back to the ship on the grounds that they have nothing to contribute to this investigation but gruesome deaths to make the audience squirm. It’s a strangely sensible assertion, especially considering their actions later in the movie.

The rest of our Scooby Gang In Outer Space discover a huge chamber, filled with mysterious jars and breathtaking artwork, the centerpiece of which is a huge face. I really don’t get the point of the face from an in-story standpoint – besides making the room visually interesting and giving a cool shot for the trailers and posters, there’s no real reason to put a big ol’ face in your super-dangerous bioweapon storage department. For people who are saying that the face is of the Engineers’ god, as the movie implies, I’d like to restate this room was obviously designed specifically to safeguard the evil infectious goop. Would you store Ebola virus in the Sistine Chapel?

Also, I just realized how similar this is to the Chamber of Secrets.

“Gee, you did a great job on that face. Now lock it up so that no one will ever see it again.”

As David swipes some goop, Dr. Shaw sees that their breathing has disrupted the fragile atmosphere, and the tunnels will cave in. So, there’s a ticking clock, and they have to run back to the ship fast before… a huge dust storm hits? Wait, so there’s two ticking clocks now? I guess big tornadoes look cooler than collapsing caves. They all make it, although there’s a quick scare where Dr. Shaw has to go back out to collect the head they brought back with them.

Meanwhile, Millburn and Fifield, the latter of whom has a previously established unhealthy obsession with those Caco-scanners I mentioned, have gotten lost. I guess without the sugar-sweet kiss of heavy ordnance, they can’t even walk straight. Cpt. Elba tells them to bunk down for the night, but Fifield says they can “go *static* themselves” (Which was a good gag, I’ll admit), and the two keep on blundering around like idiots.

Back on the ship, the crew are examining the head, and we find that the long-dead victim of the black goo was none other than Whitey MacMuscles’ second cousin, Pallor Chiselson. They attach some Neo-Frankensteinian electrodes to the head of the late Mr. Chiselson, who starts spazzing out and leaking motor oil, in an effective and original jump scare. The head explodes after they manage to contain it, which is a relief – we didn’t need another scene of people vomiting.

Gene Wilder would have made for a much better Weyland.

“I think her name was Abby Normal.”

David, meanwhile, is talking to someone in stasis, using his yellow helmet. Charlize Theron confronts him when he finishes, and he says that the mysterious man in stasis says to “try harder”. And try harder David does: He reveals he stole an entire canister from the chamber, and that it’s filled with bottles of the black goop. He takes out a drop, and quotes Lawrence of Arabia again, as back in the lab, we see that Pallor Chiselson was – dun…dun…duuuun – a human! The many inherent problems with this have been brought up too many times for me to remark too much on, so I’ll just leave you to puzzle them all out, or to watch Mike Stolaska drone on about them.

David, with a single drop of black goop, goes to Holloway and consoles him about the Engineers being long dead. When Holloway’s reaction is to call him inhuman and emotionless, saying “We made you, David, because we could”, David starts to go all CRUSH KILL DESTROY on us (or, I should say, all ‘Daisy Daisy’ on us), and responds by lawyering his way into slipping Holloway an evil black mickey. And I’m not talking about Rose’s boyfriend on Doctor Who.

Fresh from his vodka-and-pure-evil cocktail, Holloway then goes to Dr. Shaw, who’s still reeling from the revelation that our creation was at the hands of the Dr. Manhattan family. The two talk religion for a while, about how the human race is “nothing special”, and the creators of life made us because they could, though they exercise some admirable restraint by not using the same phrase and letting us puzzle out the connection with David. All this musing on the meaning of life apparently gets the both of them in the mood, because they start going at it right then and there. I suppose the existence of God is a turn-on to the both of them – or maybe love is just in the air, as we see Captain Elba and Charlize Theron banter a bit before going off to, shall we say, Engineer. The sequence refreshingly tame as far as mixing religion and sex goes, especially compared to the later parts of the movie.

I shudder to imagine what talking dirty is like for those two.

She’s obviously more into that analysis graph than she is him.

This being a horror movie, of course, people having sex means that now they are doomed. However, Karma’s like one of those villains who kill a random underling when his generals report their failure, because the first ones to die are the presumably straight Millburn and Fifield, who encounter a sort of fleshy snake (which, in keeping with trading in sexual symbolism for religious symbolism with sexual overtones, is probably supposed to be Satan rather than a penis) from within the black goo. They were scared about even a possible life sign less than fifteen minutes ago, but now an actual, very creepy looking living thing is right in front of their faces, and they start laughing and playing with it. Of course, the snake breaks Millburn’s arm, then breaks into his suit and burrows into his mouth, Alien-style, as black goo melts through Fifield’s suit helmet.

Cut to the next morning. Back on the ship, Holloway is washing the…grace of the Lord *ahem* off his face, when he sees something in his eye. He doesn’t have time to freak out, though, because the crew is told to go back into the Engineer skyscraper to find Millburn and Fifield. David breaks off from the group, and goes to investigate the life sign they were running away from. As Charlize Theron watches back on the ship, David unearths the original alien ship’s cockpit from Alien, except with some nondescript pods. He tries pressing a button, and we are treated a huge uplifting CGI sequence that does absolutely nothing plot-wise, and I think was only included to point to when cranks like me complain about how little has changed in the 30-plus years since Alien. Actual important stuff happens when it’s revealed that one of the pods contains a living Engineer, which gives David the first big smile he’s made all movie.

Meanwhile, Holloway is sick, and Dr. Shaw panics and radios back to Charlize Theron, requesting quarantine for Holloway. Charlize, however has a much quicker and easier solution than quarantine: FIRE!

This doesn't make me feel happy like an old-time movie - this IS an old-time movie.

“Do you believe in magic, in a young girl’s heart…”

I have a feeling they were originally going to focus more on this, with Prometheus giving fire to man and all, but here it’s just so Charlize gets to be a badass, and Noomi Rapace gets to engage in some ACTING!

Dr. Shaw wakes up as David gives her a check-up, and finds that she’s three months pregnant, despite her tryst with Holloway being only hours ago. I get that, in retrospect, they were going for a sort of virgin birth angle, but once again, it’s undermined by its horror-movie roots, as the sex with Holloway just confuses things.

Dr. Shaw wants the mystery fetus out, but David, who, I guess, is pro-life, sedates her and tries to put her back into cryostasis. The sedative doesn’t work, though, and she goes nuts. Doubled over in pain, she runs to Charlize Theron’s super medicine cabinet. She has to manually key in the procedure and continually pump herself full of painkillers, and she still screams all the while. The horrifically gross tone of the literally visceral scene is undermined, however, when we see it’s basically performed like those skill claw games you can play for toys.

Those things are always so hard to keep in the claw...

Oh look, she’s won an evil, bloody baby squid-thing!

Meanwhile, Captain Elba, who has already had sex, talked about going back home, and been black, now commits another cardinal sin of horror movies, when he sees something outside the ship that looks sort of like one of the already-dead people and lets it in. The redshirts get the punishment, though, as a mutated Fifield takes out a good few of them before Elba and his two hive-minded pilots can stop him, again using flamethrowers.

Dr. Shaw, already bloodstained and in her underwear despite having more than a half-hour left in the movie, just happens upon a room where we finally get back to that whole matter with that guy David and Charlize Theron were talking about: Old-Guy Pearce (or Peter Weyland, if you prefer), who came on the ship to meet with the Engineers and ask them to save him from death. And yes, the mean British robot was keeping secret the fact that the corporation is willing to sacrifice the crew to know more about the aliens. I’ll try to cut down harping on about the repetition of Alien scenes and plot points, but come on.

Anyway, back to Weyland. He’s a well-done villain, and probably the most interesting character in the movie that doesn’t have an engine. He has a traditionally heroic philosophy – of a man curious to find out “Why are we here?”-  but with a small twist that makes him bad: “And how can I use that information to benefit myself?” When Dr. Shaw wants them to go back home, saying she was wrong to go on his mission, he counters by asking “Have you lost your faith?”, because the symbolism has to be crammed down our throats. Shaw isn’t sure whether or not she can choose to believe, but she decides after Captain Elba comes to ask Shaw why they don’t just go home. After all, the place their gods led them to turned out to be Stark Industries from beyond the stars. When she’s faced with the decision, she realizes that her ultimate goal was to meet her creators, and they’ve come so close that they just can’t turn back without hearing what the Engineers have to say.

Next up, we get a pretty weird revelation: Charlize Theron is Weyland’s daughter. Their obvious animosity is obviously supposed to recall Weyland’s original prerecorded speech near the beginning, where he calls David “The closest thing I’ve ever had to a son”. The phrasing of the reveal seems to imply that Weyland is an old-style male chauvinist instead of a neglectful father – I guess Weyland Industries HQ is just a treehouse with “No Girls Allowed” on it, too.

So, Team Blade Runner goes back down to the Fortress of Mythology Fallback-itude, and Captain Elba, who I’m now guessing is the only member of the crew who watched Alien, realizes that the entire giant structure is a spaceship. But David’s already figured that out: He’s deduced that the Engineers were heading for Earth, because some clown prank-called them and ordered 500 orders of black goop – or something, it hasn’t really been explained since.

David wakes up the Engineer and comes right out by begging for more life for Weyland – I guess a game of chess is out of the question. The Engineer, who looks to be Whitey MacMuscles’ great-great-grandson Chrome-Dome von Bonesuit, might not be the best opponent, though, as his first move is Hand to David’s Neck 8, followed by David’s Severed Head to Weyland’s Skull 3.

Shaw as the new Admiral Ackbar: Make it happen, internet!

“While you’re up here, tell me where those Death Star plans you stole are!”

Shaw, now the only one still alive, runs off, as the still-speaking David wishes the dying Weyland “good luck on your journey.”

Apparently, we’re going the Star Trek V route with this: We came looking for God and found the devil, and also lots of random and incongruous sex stuff. Here, though, it’s due to the movie’s lineage rather than William Shatner’s dirty, dirty mind. Said incongruous sex stuff is exemplified here, as the lone Engineer now calls up the huge, distinctly phallic control structure for the spaceship, and prepares to blast off for Earth as oceans of CGI spring up around him. Shaw has managed to get outside of the ship in time, but not in time to get back to the Prometheus, where Charlize Theron has started shouting at Captain Elba to lift off and head back to Earth. When Shaw explains that the Engineer ship is going there as well, the captain has his big heroic moment, where he and his hive minded pilots decide to sacrifice themselves, as Charlize makes for her swanky escape pod.

The plan works, sort of: the Engineer ship is disabled, but the problem is that instead of blowing up, it lands on its side and starts to roll in a perfectly straight line, squishing Charlize and just barely missing Shaw before it stops. It’s an effective sequence, at least until you take a few seconds to think about it (how could it land at such a precise balance that it could roll for so long?) but it’s a suitably huge and, more importantly, original climax.

Because I'm not sure Ridley Scott does.

Remember when these movies where tense, silent explorations of primal fear and loneliness?

Then, the film seems to be having second thoughts about that whole “original” thing, as Shaw then stumbles into the escape pod, which is now in total disarray with flickery lights and sparks everywhere, and brandishes an axe as she sees a huge tentacle slam on the door of the room where she left her squid baby. Mr. von Bonesuit manages to get the drop on her, but she manages to escape as Shaw Jr, all grown up and looking like a giant facehugger, dukes it out with Chrome-Dome, the former eventually winning by doing what facehuggers do best.

Shaw collapses, crying, just wanting to die like everyone else, before David starts talking to her, asking her to help him because he’s the only way off the planet. He’s obviously meant to sound HAL-ish here, but it doesn’t really fit, because his character arc is opposite to that of HAL: Where HAL wanted to help humanity even if it meant killing a few of them, David goes from having a coldly logical viewpoint to more traditional morality, having survived all the death around him and started coming to terms with his feelings for those he cares for. And as he talks to Shaw, who’s still retained her faith after all this, and still wants to go to see the Engineers and ask them what’s what, we can see that David character arc has closed. He’s started actually looking up to people, even though he’s forced to in this case since Shaw is carrying his head in a bag.

The movie ends with the traditional distress call-style voice over from Shaw, saying she’s still searching for the truth – but who needs overused endings when we can check back with the late Chrome-Dome von Bonesuit, and see that his mutated corpse is now a Xenomorph!

Would two mouths mean that Xenomorphs can also have two mustaches?

Once you go black, you never go back, and you also grow a hideous extra mouth.

Wait, what? What’s the point of that? We already knew this was a prequel to Alien – we can tell from all the plagarized characters and scenes, and even then we already saw the facehugger and the giant penis spaceship control. Why did we need to see a Xenomorph? And what’s going to happen to it, now that it’s the only living thing on the planet? Can it pilot spaceships too?

But I digress – I think I’ve brought my points across. There’s a few more general things I didn’t mention, like the traditional orange/blue contrast being changed to a yellow/washed-out gray contrast. I don’t really feel strongly one way or the other about it, other than to say if you go to the trouble of emphasizing it (which they did), you should actually make it represent something ather than just sort of being there.

That’s my problem with Prometheus; it feels like there wasn’t any real vision behind it. I’m not trying to insult Ridley Scott, I’m saying that this film is just pretty shallow, despite its pretentions (and they are pretentions, to me) otherwise.

If I do want to criticize someone involved in the production, I’ll pick the script editor: nerdy, love-him-or-hate-him Team Abrams staple Damon Lindelof. I didn’t watch Lost, though I shared a room with a true-blue Fringe fan during its run, and that appeared to be pretty good. Still, his contributions to original screenwriter Jon Spaihts’ script seemed to do more harm than good, leading to most of the movie’s bigger headscratchers and unanswered questions, which turned quite a few people off the movie; even more than Ridley Scott’s constant self-plagarism.

Thanks to the overall tepid response to this movie, coupled with the monumental train wreck that was Aliens: Colonial Marines, the franchise is currently languishing in development hell, and this is a good thing, in my view: Even a film that grosses $125 million won’t be picked up for a sequel if people don’t like it. Yes. We’re learning, Hollywood. Do this more, please.

Two thumbs up: Michael Fassbender’s David, Guy Pearce’s Weyland, most of the CGI (especially the titular spaceship)

Thumbs up: The rest of the main cast, the horror scenes (even the ripped-off ones)

Thumbs down: The overemphasis on religious symbolism (especially in the dialogue), the many logical hiccups

Two thumbs down: 2093: An Alien Odyssey

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2 Comments

  1. An impressive debut! Really well-written, informative, and funny — I also like it because after reading your review I know I can skip the movie in good conscience. Keep it up!

    Reply
  2. lizholl

     /  June 12, 2013

    Yes, very smart and funny. I like the picture captions a lot too. Sail on, O ship of state…

    Reply

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