2021 didn’t have much to offer in terms of original sci-fi; it was mostly just big fantasy films. Sure, Apple TV released a post-apocalyptic flick about a robot learning to take care of a dog (and learning to love along the way), which was pretty good; it starred that young up-and-coming actor, you know, Tommy Hanks. Of course, there was Free Guy, a strange, funny, and heartfelt jaunt about a video game NPC (played by Ryan Reynolds) gaining sentience and striking out to live his own life. A couple of cute concepts, maybe, but these movies aren’t exactly creating a new generation of science fiction lovers. Whatever happened to movies about people running around spaceships and doing battle with off-worlders? Why aren’t we seeing as many other planets these days? Yes, there was Dune, but so much of that world was pure fantasy and had little to do with real science-fiction; it was often stiff, regal, bare, and far removed from humanity, and was basically just a long introduction.
MOVIEWEB VIDEO OF THE DAY
The current landscape of sci-fi cinema would surely be brightened up by a few films that return to classic form. That awesome period between the mid-’70s and late ’90s where studios were pumping out tightly structured, original, and self-contained science fiction with a focus on the human condition and regular people. The Terminator, Predator, Blade Runner– these were films about people who we can identify with, struggling, ordinary people thrust into extraordinary situations. In 1979, the Alien franchise began with such a scenario, where average astronauts are totally unprepared for the disgusting life form which appears and hunts them down one by one; Ripley may be the hero and sole survivor, but she is no superhero or bigger-than-life caricature. No, she’s an average woman who taps into her strength and confronts an insane situation with terror and believable desperation. The original Ridley Scott film kicked everything off and is often considered to be the prototype of survival and sci-fi horror. So, in a fit of nostalgia, and as a lament of the kind of sci-fi which has populated screens recently, we’ve decided to take look back and take a deep dive into the four greatest moments from the original Alien.
A Cat Gets Traumatized
20th Century Fox
If you’re unaware, the original Alien sees the crew of a commercial space tug (the Nostromo) awakened from stasis while still in deep space in order to check out a distress signal. Events transpire and a tiny alien is now running around their ship. What the crew don’t know is: how to catch it, how dangerous it is, and how fast it matures. They’ve only seen it once, when it was just a horrifying lil’ baby. Now, mere minutes later, we find engineer Brett wandering alone in the Nostromo’s underbelly, looking for the crew cat. As he crouches down to call the cat out of its hiding spot, a spiked black tail drifts down into frame behind Brett’s shoulder, followed by the rest of the now very big Xenomorph. He turns, stares horrified into the face of pure evil, and is dragged away screaming and bloodied.
There are so many elements that make this scene fantastic, from the sound design to the perfect cat casting. The distant rumbling of the ship’s engine sounds exactly like a faint heartbeat. You might not even notice you’re hearing it, but your sympathetic nervous system will, and so anxiety will come either way. Chains dangle all around, gently swinging into each other to produce a sinister, spine-chilling soundscape. Director Ridley Scott excellently plays with the viewer’s sense of foreboding; there’s a moment where Brett stops searching and stands under some dripping water, letting it hit his face. It’s a peculiar, very human detail, almost bemusing to watch. He’s there for so long, though, that a deep sense of unease begins to creep in, and the camera lingers stubbornly until the audience is almost certain something’s about to burst into frame. The brief sigh of relief when nothing does is immediately recanted by the slow, deliberate entrance of the Xenomorph – an excellent way to introduce this iconic design for the very first time.
Move! Get Out of There!
The crew of the Nostromo are determined to find and destroy their alien tormenter. Having decided that it must be in the air ducts, captain Dallas (Tom Skerritt) agrees to climb into the vents himself, armed with a flamethrower, intent on cornering and killing the elusive murder-machine. It finds him first.
It’s important to remember that, while the Alien franchise as a whole is known for its original sci-fi concepts, intense action sequences, and the legendary rivalry between Ripley and the Xenomorph, the first installment is fundamentally an excellent horror film fused with great sci-fi. The Nostromo serves as a haunted house in space. The eponymous alien is a totally unknown evil force; we know nothing about it, which only makes it scarier. As if to ensure that Alien would stand proudly alongside other horror classics, Ridley Scott uses this scene to brilliantly execute one of the most common and most often botched horror tropes – the jump scare. Often, jump scares rely on suddenly creating a huge disparity between a quiet, still moment and an ear-piercing intruder popping up out of nowhere. This is essentially scaring the audience with brute force and sound design. It’s rare that a jump scare manages to be utterly terrifying and successful while in the middle of an already chaotic and loud sequence. Dallas isn’t cautiously moving through a pitch-black room, only to have a clown face appear behind his shoulder, or some other overused jump scare trope. He’s being warned through the com-link that the creature is coming right for him, he’s panicking and heading for an exit, Veronica Cartwright sounds almost hysterical as she attempts to guide him out while machinery beeps, and the momentum of all this carries you straight into the alien’s screaming face. Even if you’re sure it’s coming, the timing is so perfect, so unexpected, and the sequence has such momentum, that the monstrous reveal will catch you off-guard anyway.
Ripley Suits Up
It is widely agreed upon that the full ending sequence of Ridley Scott’s Alien is fantastic and a highlight of the entire franchise, but there is one particular moment during the final sequence which deserves an honorable mention on any list: Ripley getting dressed.
Having discovered that the alien has snuck on board her escape shuttle, Ripley shuts herself in the space suit cupboard and eyes the lethargic-but-still-extremely-deadly creature. As of now, she’s totally inexperienced in combat and terrified to Lovecraftian extremes, having watched a creature systematically kill everyone on her ship without a second’s hesitation. In these utterly dire conditions, we’re able to see the cogs turning in Ripley’s head as we watch her somehow manage to figure out a plan, which includes opening the airlock and flushing the alien out. We then watch her climb carefully into a space suit, desperate to stay quiet, struggling to keep her breath under control, her eyes fully trained on the Xenomorph opposite. It’s a moment through which viewers are likely to hold their breath for the duration. Everything about this sequence is stunning, as it may be the most tense scene in the entire franchise, and Sigourney Weaver carries it perfectly with yet another genius piece of acting.
The Chestburster
Of course it’s the chestburster. It has to be. This is the most famous, most parodied, most praised moment of the original film (and whole franchise) for a reason. Several reasons, in fact.
For one, this scene is a masterclass in naturalistic tone shifting. So often in action and sci-fi, an alarm will sound, or a problem will occur, and everybody instantly flips from doing nothing to game-face on, 100% prepared to assess and tackle anything. Not here, not on Ridley Scott’s directorial watch. We open on a full crew dinner scene. No music. Voices overlap to create a casual, realistic soundscape. Unobtrusive cinematography acts here as a fly on the wall for this organic, highly natural ensemble performance. The crew eat, complain about the food, and think about home.
Then someone chokes.
John Hurt’s physicality is mind-blowing. He transitions seamlessly from laughter into stifled convulsions and coughs. After he spits out his food, a profound look in his eyes betrays the knowledge that something is seriously wrong: he still can’t breathe. The rest of the crew takes longer to clock this. Hurt slowly rises, held by his increasingly nervous crew mates, and turns 180 degrees—as does the tone of the scene. In leu of straps, Hurt is held down by the highly distressed crew, bravely doing their duty while trying to push through their concern and fear for their friend. The dinner table begins – cleverly – to resemble a bloodied surgery table, as spilled food and drink take on the appearance of blood and guts. Hurt bites down on a spoon handle for some low-tech pain relief. The chaos builds until Hurt’s chest emits a sharp pop and a small jet of blood, stunning the entire room into a moment of stillness and silence. It’s a shock to behold. Then we’re straight back into chaos as the baby Xenomorph forces its way out of Hurt’s chest; the visceral, gritty practical effects are working at their peak, giving us a result which still looks stunning over forty years later.
You’ve likely heard the stories that the cast weren’t informed of what was going to happen or how bloody the scene would be. You may even have heard the anecdote about Veronica Cartwright being caught off guard by a huge spray of blood, causing her to fall back but then soldier on, producing those iconic (and genuine) sounds of disgust and fear which soar solo over the dénouement of the scene. This is all true, but it’s just one piece of the puzzle. Film is an inherently, insistently collaborative medium. This scene takes the #1 spot because it is the embodiment of collaboration firing on all cylinders. From screenwriter Dan O’Bannon’s experience with Crohn’s disease, which he has claimed inspired the chest-bursting scene, to H.R. Giger’s original design for the creature (itself inspired by a 1944 Francis Bacon painting), to the dedicated crew of 3D designers, sculptors, engineers, and puppeteers, to Ridley Scott’s decision to keep the cast in the dark, to the unwavering skill and commitment of the cast to fight through this scene and embrace the spontaneity– this is what cinema was always meant to be. Film at its finest.
