Must See Movie

“This is Ripley, last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off.”

    Ridley Scott’s Alien is a film that can be read on so many levels. The film, since its release in 1979, can be examined through many types of lenses. It is an extremely dark interpretation of science fiction that pushed the limits of imagination. It is a brilliant philosophical look at the importance of science against humanity. It is a over-sexualized feminist horror film that helped breed a new wave of strong feminine roles in the 1980s. And above all, it is one of the most frightening films ever put to screen.

    Alien is one of those films that is made of many memorable scenes. From the distinct slow and silent look of the film to the amazing iconography of the create, the film defines modern day classic. The acting, direction, and scripting all come together to create a succinct journey to the very depths of the inner fears and back, and does it all in the subtext.

     Take the opening moments of the film. We are introduced to the Nostromo, a commercial ore refinery, and its crew awaking from their stasis sleep. The ship is dark, messy, and dirty. The only clean and symmetrical room seems to be the sleeping chambers. Yet everything is quiet. Space is quiet; the crew doesn’t speak for seven minutes. In these opening moments, Scott sets the rules of his science fiction adventure. Taking the silence from 2001: A Space Odyssey and combining it with the rundown look of Star Wars, Scott’s future is one that is very similar to what will become realistic—space is quiet, but definitely not clean.

    In breaking with much of the horror tradition, though some genre experts would argue against, the film has no action for forty five minutes. The crew debates, explores for a little bit, and the audience must watch in patience. We get one scare—the iconic revealing of the eggs and the dubbed “facehugger.” What Scott is really doing is setting up the crew dynamics. From their first breakfast scene to their debates on the alien planet, we get a sense of who each type of character is. Interestingly enough, screenwriter Dan O’Bannon wrote each character unisex, allowing them to be played by anyone.

    That of course allowed for the defining casting of then unknown actress Sigourney Weaver in the main role of Ripley. If Scott had never let a woman play Ripley, the crew’s tough and smart third officer with a strong set mind, then the film would never be remembered for being feminist. Consider Ripley’s relation with the two other female characters. Lambert (Veronica Cartwright) is the scared, weak woman. But who is the other? MOTHER, the ship’s computer. If Ripley is the daughter of MOTHER, then her defiant rejection of her shows her breaking with the past. Although James Cameron’s sequel Aliens would make her into an action hero, the subtext of feminism that sits underneath Alien is always a curious manner. Along with horror films like Halloween and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Alien helped breed a number of feminist horror films.

    To add to the feminist interpretation, there is of course the over sexualized creature that stalks the prey. Before the details, it is important to read the sexuality of the film because it helps play visually into the feminist stance. By beating the monster, she rejects the man. Its just like in horror films where the woman who kills the man that stalks her with the knife, as the knife has phallic connotations. But consider the opening and closing moments of the film, where Ripley appears in almost no clothes, half her bottom showing through her underpants—it is deliberate for a reason. The alien of course is designed for sexual connotations. A man is impregnated and gives birth to the alien. It’s blood is a oozing and dangerous substance, that nobody wishes to touch. The alien’s mouth extends out to attack, similar to an erecting phallus. Scott, through his visuals, is trying to portray not only a perfect creature, but one that represents man as a danger, which a female must reject.

    Speaking of a perfect creature, the philosophical questions of science and its pressing on humanity is also addressed. If a film like The Andromeda Strain (which interestingly enough, Scott just produced a TV miniseries out of) is a film that tries to convince its audience of the greatness and importance of science, then Alien rejects it. The fact that Ash’s mission is to protect that creature at all costs, including expending the crew, shows the boundaries to which science will go in order to push itself. Is human life not important in the vein of science? Scott poses this question and more.

    The ending of course poses a bit of a strange enigma. Although Ripley escapes and kills her stalking creature, she drifts off into space, and to return is to face the company that sent her on the suicide mission. Scott’s ending leaves the viewer and protagonist in a strange puzzle. As Ripley drifts back into sleep, completing the ring composition, does she dream or have nightmare? (Curiously, Scott’s original ending had the alien eating Ripley’s head and then speaking the final monologue in Ripley’s voice. Although strange and original, the studios thankfully rejected this ridiculous climax).

    From chestbursters to “Lucky Star,” Alien became a classic of the science fiction and the horror genre. As Ridley Scott moved away from the series to make another science fiction classic, Blade Runner, he widely influenced both genres as they moved into the 1980s. The gothic horror film has been a staple, and the scares in space became a genre in its own. The sad problem of course was that very few of the films are as effective as Alien. They rush through to the scares, they don’t develop the characters, and they don’t have half of the imagination. Even Cameron’s great sequel, which he took in a completely different genre step, doesn’t have the same spark as Scott’s original vision. It’s the unsettling feelings of the film, the things that nobody notices on the first visit, that makes Alien the classic it is today.