Alien: Romulus

Sequels to the landmark 1979 space horror Alien have ranged from the superlative (Aliens) to the mixed-bag (Alien Resurrection) to the messily philosophical (Prometheus) to the best forgotten (Alien Vs. Predator). Director Fede Alvarez’s latest gambit for the franchise is a smart one: to take the best elements of the two best films in the series — Ridley Scott’s original and James Cameron’s original sequel — and squash them together, with the force of a facehugger.

As it turns out, Alvarez’s ‘interquel’ — set between Alien and Aliens — hews a little closer to the former, with nods to both. He doesn’t stray too far from the established hallmarks: expect chestbursters, pulse rifles, synthetics, even a reference for Prometheus fans. Only occasionally does it feel like Alvarez has attended the J.J. Abrams School Of Fan Service: one character from a previous film is distractingly resurrected via CGI, while the recycling of a famous one-liner might prompt eye-rolls.

The journey that follows, though formulaic in places, is an intense, stressful delight.

But on the whole, this is a film that understands the appeal of the original two, and summons the same mysterious, magisterial, mythical mood; H.R. Giger’s Xenomorph, when it finally arrives, is filmed with reverence and awe. Like the first film, this is a story about working-class stiffs who can’t catch a break, suffocated by the oppression of the nightmare-capitalist Weyland-Yutani corporation — only to find a deadlier, droolier alien oppressor. It’s set on, and in orbit of, Jackson’s Star, a filthy, Soviet-esque mining colony on a barely terraformed planet, where, according to one character, “everyone is dying”.

That prompts a group of daring twentysomethings to try to escape their shackles, only to end up on an express elevator to hell. Though none of the new recruits are as memorable or quotable as a Hudson or a Vasquez, there is some essence of Ripley-esque broken humanity in Rain (Cailee Spaeny), reflected in the fascinating, slippery relationship she shares with Andy (David Jonsson), her synthetic adoptive “brother”.

The journey that follows, though formulaic in places, is an intense, stressful delight, buoyed by gorgeous art direction, atmospheric lighting, sumptuous set design, miniature work, model work, animatronics, and CGI: a cavalcade of exceptional craft in order to mould a tactile, believable world. That ensures everything that unfolds is just that much scarier — most acutely in the terrifying epilogue, which introduces a masterpiece of creature design and expands the mythology ever further. It’s not quite a perfect organism — but it’s a damn good one.