This one is going to get me into trouble. Not necessarily with the bulk of film fandom (who, judging by my blogspot stats, are decidedly not reading this), but with genre fans in general and good friends who believe vociferously the opposite in particular. A fellow horror enthusiast I pal around with loaned me the Aliens bluray box to peruse at my own leisure. He will no doubt be disappointed with my estimation of the first three films, but I did loan him the Miramax classic Venom, so, you know, we're even. I'm more concerned with how these ensuing opinions will enrage my great friend and internet horror writer colleague SteakKnife Surprise. He doesn't write often, but when he does, pay attention cause he makes it count. In any case, the Aliens films are sacred gospel in his estimation, none more so than the first 3 I am about to argue are execrable wastes of time outside of Goldsmith's score and Giger's design work. With all due respect and with apologies proffered in advance, let us begin.Now, the Alien films have been with me my whole life. I have vivid memories of witnessing them at a criminally early age and was regrettably psychologically damaged by seeing the Fincher entry in the theater with a friend and my mother who chaperoned us. Outside of the sex education scene in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life and Kevin Kline's enthusiastic, transatlantic lovemaking session with Jaimie Lee Curtis in A Fish Called Wanda, I can recall no other more excruciatingly embarrassing cinematic experience with my mother. My point is, it's not like these films are a blind spot in my film appreciation history. They were front and center for many years and I will readily admit my first viewing of Cameron's propulsive sequel was undeniably exhilarating. I've always adored the Giger design work and was gifted a book of his art by a friend of mine in the mid-90's that I still peruse to this day.
I love the look of these films. I love the design of the Alien, Alien Queen and Facehuggers. I love the underlying jabs at insidious corporate forces and the unblinking light cast on the unavoidable end result of the future of the military industrial complex. These are films whose aesthetic approach is to me every bit as stunning as its thematic approach is laudable. So what gives? Well, first off, Ridley Scott is a hack. Perhaps the most over rated, uninspiring dish soap commercial director to ever have a career so wildly praised by critics and worshipped by fanboys. Alien and Blade Runner, while featuring admittedly sumptuous production design, happen to be two of the most lifeless and boring films ever to be catapulted into the realm of the iconic. Scott has often been given fascinating themes to explore in the films he chooses, but he never manages to make the events feel real or immediate, the characters fleshed out or likable. People can make excuses up and down for why I don't connect to his narrative or his characters, but the bottom line is, nothing Ridley Scott does as an artist resonates with me. The Alien looks beautiful, but that is a product of Giger's Brilliance and Rambaldi's (and other artists as the series progressed) technique. The ship looks great, but I never feel like I'm on it, I never care about the people in it. That disconnect is directly attributable to the Director, not the artisans who simply produced what he requested.
As I said earlier, my first viewing of Aliens, alone at home, was terrifying to the point of giving me palpitations. It was a thrill ride par excellance. It was also 1987 on VHS. The sort of Horror/Sci-Fi/Action template it birthed has been endlessly eclipsed, no more obviously than by Cameron himself with T2. So, stripped of that innovation, what are you left with? Clunky dialog, convenient plot mechanics and a ceaselessly shrieking 10 year old girl. I suppose Paxton is a hoot as Hudson and Henricksen is reliably perfect as Bishop. Hell, I'll even give Paul Reiser credit for so expertly essaying the slippery douchebaggery inherent to the corporate stooge. But Ripley? Hicks? Newt? I could care less about any of these people and with the Alien menace reduced to a flailing melange of rubbery appendages easily blasted to bits, the tension has evaporated completely. What was once so exciting as a child is now a repetitive assemblage of surpassed action scenes and tepid catchphrases. Game over indeed.
I'm not even going to bother getting in depth on Alien 3. Of course I will concede that Fincher has blossomed into America's finest director in the intervening two decades. That doesn't change the fact that Alien 3 is one of the ugliest and most miserable pieces of entertainment to come out of the 90's. It's Christian prisoner subtext is not only poorly realized and half heartedly executed, it's didactic and pointless. Martyrdom...sure...got it. What's your point and why should we care? Stuck for 2 hours in what appears to be a dilapidated asylum with the patients feces smeared on the walls with only an indecipherable gaggle of bald headed, constantly cursing convicts to identify with is zero fun. The atrocious, then nascent CGI employed to realize the lone Alien doesn't help matters. Not only guilty of wasting your time, this film has the temerity to waste Charles Dance. Avoid at all costs.
Strangely, the two best films in the series to my eyes are the ones most maligned by fans of the franchise, Resurrection and AVP. Resurrection finally makes Ripley interesting and Weaver gives a fascinating, complex performance full of physicality, intelligence and heart. The effects are goopy and great, the action scenes inventive and plentiful. Plus, you get playful turns from Dan Hedaya, Michael Wincott and Ron Perlman. It's a fun flick with unique direction and a smart, forward thinking script from Joss Whedon. AVP is just a damn solid monster movie with a ridiculous premise played straight and implausibly silly action. These are the 2 films that work for me, the ones I can tolerate, hell, even enjoy returning to. I realize the pointlessness of trying to defend them to ardent Aliens fans, so I will simply conclude with my unabashed and enthusiastic support of them. Even if it flies in the face of all previously established movie nerd logic. I sense I'm going to be embroiled in an epic cell phone debate with my estimable opponent SteakKnife very soon.
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