Alien (1979) - Classic Movie Review

What Makes Ridley Scott's Seminal Sci-Fi Movie So Enduring?

Ridley Scott's 1979 masterpiece has rightfully assured it's place as not only a genre classic, but also as a key movie in cinema history.

A film that rewards on countless viewings, Alien stands apart from many SF movies thanks to careful, meticulous set-design and improv-based performances by the seven principals. Unlike other SF releases of the time, Alien looks like it could've been shot in any post-60s decade.

Sure, this is deep space in a distant future where a now insignificant 'earth' is spelled in lower-case, but the banter we hear between the crew of deep-space tug the Nostromo concerns the drudgery of everyday life, thankless toil, the divide between the white and the blue collars.

Sigourney Weaver's Breakthrough Role

Gender roles are blurred; a then-unknown Sigourney Weaver plays the iconic Ripley, a character who will go on to be something of a feminist icon, but for now is Warrant Officer for the nameless corporation employing the crew, stuck amidst alpha-male posturing between the ships captain (Tom Skerritt), Chief Engineer (Yaphet Kotto), Science Officer (Ian Holm) and Navigator (John Hurt). Added to the mix are Veronica Cartwright and Harry Dean Stanton as lower-rung employees, ducking from quarrels but quietly bemoaning their lot when given an opportunity.

The plot doesn't deviate from Dan O'Bannon's initial screenplay, tentatively entitled 'Star Beast', first intended as a cheapo exploitation flick. A distress beacon wakes the crew from hyper-sleep, interrupting the journey home. Company directives dictate investigation; a fossilised wreck on a hostile planetoid surface is explored, where a nest of alien eggs is discovered. A crewman is attacked by a parasitic organism, attaching to his face, inducing a coma-like state.

When the exploration party return, the crew learn the distress signal was really a warning to avoid the crash site. The casualty is taken to sickbay; in no time, the parasite dies and falls off, leaving the victim in (apparently) good health. Not for long.

The Beast is Born

In perhaps the most famous scene, the embryo - embedded in the crewman's stomach - violently emerges, killing him in the process. The thing flees and the chase is on as the remaining crew search for the intruder, now a rapidly evolving monstrosity. One by one, they fall prey to it's insatiable appetite. A clever twist (it has acid for blood) means it can't be shot, or the hull will be compromised, leaving a tiger-by-the-tail scenario. As the crew dwindles, the odds stack up against the survivors...

Much has been written about HR Giger's hugely influential alien design - a heady mix of organic, phallic imagery, creating something uniquely, psychologically disturbing. Less is said about Ron Cobb's stunning set designs for the ship interiors - a complex, grubby environment that is utterly credible, providing a jarring contrast to the sleek curves of the derelict ship containing those creepy eggs.

Ridley Scott's masterful direction pulls these elements together, adding many layers of subtext: the parental tones of the ship's computer (tellingly called Mother) wakes the crew from incubated sleep, dressed in diapers; it forbids access to information that could save their lives, then is the target of Weaver's petulant outbursts as she rebels against it. Themes of suffocation and abandonment further reinforce some deeply Freudian concepts, making for a wholly unnerving experience.

Many sequels followed, best of which is Aliens (1986). None come close to the original in terms of sheer terror. It's telling that, thirty years on, Alien holds up against any other in the genre.

The Manchurian Candidate: 1962/2004 versions compared

I recently watched not only the original, but also the 2004 remake (dir: Jonathan Demme), curious to see which I’d like best.

Inexplicably, Demme's remake ditched the powerful ‘red queen’ motif of the ‘62 version; what he adds seems to dilute the basic premise. Now, the bad guys aren’t a diabolic commie cabal - it’s a (fairly vague) corporate organisation within the US. The starting point is Gulf War Pt.1, rather than Korea.

Both films explore disturbing mind experiments; the original goes for brainwashing, but the remake prefers more icky brain surgery.

2004 version on the left; 1962 on the right.

Denzel Washington is a much better actor than Sinatra, playing the guy caught up in the conspiracy, trying to unravel harrowing dreams that seem to suggest a complicit involvement in the murders of former comrades.

This works against the story - we care about his plight more than the bigger scheme. Meryl Streep fills Angela Lansbury’s shoes and stomps all over the set in them, playing the terrifying matriach.

2004 version on the left; 1962 on the right.

There’s an assassination of a mentor and his daughter in both movies, but the clumsy, rather banal nature of the killing in the original packs far more of a punch.

Needless to say, I found the original much better than the modern reworking.

Sunset Blvd. (1950): Billy Wilder's All-Time Classic Explored

As a caustic, cynical take on Hollywood and the nature of fame, Billy Wilder's 1950 classic is perhaps the definitive movie about the studio system of that era, shot in a distinctive, neo-gothic Film Noir style. From the first frame, we are presented with an unconventional story, narrated by an already slain man, seen from beneath the waters of a pool; his unblinking, dead gaze assuring us of an inevitable, unhappy outcome.

Sunset Blvd. - The Plot

We soon learn that our narrator is Joe Gillis (William Holden), a washed-up writer who accidentally stumbles across a decaying mansion off Sunset Boulevard, home to former silent era queen, Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson).

Ducking from creditors, he slips into her drive, then into her house, discovering the two sole inhabitants: Desmond, plus her faithful butler/driver/servant, Max (Erich von Stroheim), surrounded by the dusty trappings of a former life. You see, Norma was a star, once - back before the vulgarity of the talkies ("We didn't need voices. We had faces!" she protests), an already bygone era; hers, a forgotten name.

When Desmond discovers that Joe is a writer, she insists he pens her screenplay, one that will serve as her grand return to cinema and to her adoring public. Joe witnesses the extent of her delusion but regardless, sniffs a buck and agrees to move in and develop her project, soon becoming her gigolo.

Tensions mount as Joe meets Betty (Nancy Olson), a studio staff writer, then begins a relationship with her, enraging Norma's jealousies. Max reveals his earlier status as Desmond's former director and husband, still very much in love with her.

A confrontation ends when a pistol rings out in the night, resulting in Norma's final, grotesque return to some kind of fame. As she prepares to descend the vast staircase one last time to meet the throng of gathered press and flashbulbs, she famously announces: "All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up."

 

Its All in the Detail

Astonishingly, the images adorning the walls of the mansion are of Swanson in her (younger) glory days, herself a victim of the demise of silent movies. The movie Max screens for Joe was an as-then unreleased film directed by Stroheim himself, starring Swanson. As a director, Stroheim was another refugee of that silent era.

Continuing this theme, we are presented with a wealth of detail: in one scene, Norma has visitors over for a game of cards; the players are from that same bygone era, esteemed company that includes Buster Keaton.

 Buster Keaton in Sunset Blvd.

When Desmond is granted brief audience on the sound stage of a Hollywood studio, Cecil B. DeMille cameos as himself, directing the movie Samson and Delilah. He successfully makes the transition into modernity whilst observing her descent.

Holden himself was out of favour when Sunset Blvd. was greenlit for production, struggling with a drinking habit that would blight his career, mirroring the plight of his character Joe, further galvanising the art-imitating-life undercurrent.

As a film in it's own right, Sunset Blvd. is classic cinema. Closer examination however reveals a wealth of clever complexities, elevating the movie to a masterpiece, perfectly encapsulating the pernicious nature of fame and success.

Midnight Cowboy (1969) - An American Classic

Midnight Cowboy (1969) dir: John Schlesinger

This makes the list as one of my all-time favourites.  Made at the start of that strange, reflective period where big studios backed risky films about isolation, loneliness and urban paranoia, it throws us into a world of hustlers, losers and poverty.

It takes two unlikeable characters stumbling through the arse-end of a bitter landscape, shows us how they think and dream, doesn’t really ask for an ounce of sympathy - and yet have us care for these men, even though we probably shouldn’t.

The film begins in dusty Texas, but moves from relative poverty to the squalor of a dirty metropolis as Joe Buck arrives in New York, full of dreams, running from a sketchy past that is cleverly hinted at through hazy recall/flashbacks.

Nightmares and fantasies collide in a dazzling variety of styles and techniques, but grim reality is never far away. As winter sets in, Joe degrades his shallow aspirations (and himself) in order to get by - yet, in doing so, is confronted with aspects of his subconscious that drive him into dangerous territory.

Voight and Hoffman are mesmerising but it’s director Schlesinger who captures the alienation of the big city like never before. Waldo Salt is the unsung hero, adapting the novel for the screen.  I still find the last shot of the movie heartbreaking.

Oh - it also has a great soundtrack. I swear that period of American cinema has never been bettered.

Revisiting 'Blood Simple'

Blood Simple (1984) Dir: Joel Coen

The first Coen Bros. movie and - in some quarters - still held as their finest picture.  I watched it again this weekend, for the first time in many years. With the benefit of retrospect, it's easy to see what would become Coen preoccupations: low angles, noir-ish mood, characters who act rather than talk - but act stupid, then pay the price for their stupidity.

In many ways, this is the Coen's closest homage to the stories of James M. Cain. True, their later The Man Who Wasn't There is undoubtedly more authentic to the traditions of both hardboiled literature and Film Noir.  But in terms of story, Blood Simple examines similar themes of morality as found in Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice or Double Indemnity - doomed lovers who make dubious decisions, inevitably questioning their motives toward each other.

Frances McDormand

Frances McDormand shines in a very early role but the real star of the show is M. Emmet Walsh, playing a seedy private eye. Walsh is always good value* but he's probably never been better than he is here, playing an odious, duplicitous man who gets under your skin seconds into his initial scene.

 M. Emmet Walsh

Less compelling is John Gets as Ray - he's saddled with a frustrating inability to articulate what's on his mind, although that's a blame more for the script than for Gets' performance.  The inarticulation of characters (and the price they pay for it) forms an important aspect to hardboiled fiction; perhaps it translates better on page than it does to screen.

Still, it's a taught, compelling thriller, with plenty to admire, not least the pitch-black humour the Coens would go on to be celebrated for.

  That's a hand pinned to the window frame - and those are bulletholes poking through from the next room. You'll have to see the movie to find out what that's all about if you don't know. 

* Movie Lore: Critic Roger Ebert coined a movie edict called 'The Stanton-Walsh Rule', which decrees that any movie starring Walsh or fellow character actor Harry Dean Stanton must have merit.

"Obey, Consume, Marry and Reproduce": They Live

They Live (1988) Dir: John Carpenter

If you haven’t seen it, They Live concerns a conspiracy whereby aliens have infiltrated our lives, only regular people have no idea - the invaders have a clever cloaking device that means we just see them as normal folk.

But then the central character discovers that by wearing special glasses, he sees the world for how it really is (well, in black-and-white), unmasking the creepy freaks (clearly inspired by the Topps Mars Attacks! cards, predating Tim Burton’s movie).

 Especially fun is the printed matter found in everyday life; through the lenses, you read what’s really written (Click the image above for a full-sized version and spot how many things are littered with the subliminal messages).

Carpenter was never very subtle with social commentary, but this isn’t a subtle movie - it’s great, comic-book action with clever ideas. The only director coming close to this kind of movie these days is Robert Rodriguez.

BONUS: Geek Trivia - The immortal line “I have come here to chew bubble gum and kick ass, and I’m all out of bubble gum” was not in the script; star and former pro-wrestler Roddy Piper ad-libbed it on the day.

New Moon, through an outsider's eyes

New Moon (2009) Dir: Chris Weitz

It seems pretty much all the females I know have succumbed to this Twilight thing, regardless of age. Menfolk seem curiously silent about it all.

I've somehow managed to avoid seeing either movie so far, or reading any of the books, even though both types of Twilight media exist in my home. (Books are easier to ignore, but films have a habit of being on even if you don't want them to be.)

But last night, New Moon hit the DVD player - and I decided to watch. I thought it might make for interesting viewing, going in blind to what is a sequel, or at least part of a continuing cycle. The way I saw it, any film should stand on it's own merits; the skill of the film-makers (as I see it) is to ask 'just how much back-story do we give?'

Pretty much none in this case, it turns out. This movie was made for the fans. If you don't get what's going on, that's your tough luck. You're expected to know.

This is the prologue sequence - a (relatively) complex narrative rather spoiled by Edward crashing in, replete with tittersome sartorial elegance and  half a tub of modelling gel in his hair.
(Question: how does he do that, given he can't see himself in a mirror?)

Regardless, I kind of got what was going on, but the thing that took my by surprise was just how irrelevant plot was to proceedings. There's very little sense of peril; in fact, the supernatural elements (vampirism/lycanthropy) are almost subtext to what is chiefly an examination of teen angst and nihilism.

There's some surprising directorial choices, especially when we're given a raven-eye view of events. Passages of time are shown with clever, tricksy montages and tracking shots.

I found it all strangely engaging, up to a point. I didn't care that I didn't know the characters wheeled out, and I turned off all the questions that started to fire in my mind (things like 'where is Bella's Mum?', which I'm sure would be answered if I'd seen the first movie).

 This is one of several dream sequences in the movie. It might also be the worst.

There's a keen ear in the script for teen heartache and confusion. This is also the maddening element - the push/pull, will-she/won't-she that constitutes tease on a massive scale.  Nothing is ever properly resolved; there's just longing then curiously cold-hearted rebuttals as Bella is left by one suitor, then the other, because they would be 'bad for her' (read: will disfigure her, or destroy her soul, or something).

Even those conversations aren't properly resolved later.  Instead, we get dialogue like this:

Bella: Yes... I needed you to see me once. You had to know that I was alive. You didn't need to feel guilty about it. I can let you go now.
Edward: I could never let go of you. I just couldn't live in a world where you didn't exist.
Bella:  [ puzzled] But you said...
Edward: I lied. I had to lie, and you believed me so easily.
Bella: : [ Starts crying] Because it doesn't make sense for you to love me. I'm nothing... Human. Nothing.
Edward: Bella, you're everything to me. Everything.


And so on.

I'm not the target audience for this stuff. I know that. But I happily sat through it without getting cross at it, which means I tolerated it more than Shutter Island for example. This is interesting to me. Because Shutter Island came with high expectations, perhaps? And with New Moon, I admit I'd set the bar very low.

But once we got down to the last 40 minutes or so, I did start to get a bit angry at it. We're packed off to Italy or somewhere, there's a lot of mumbled, hurried exposition, Michael Sheen supremely irritates as a pantomime Vamp (possibly the worst performance in the movie, so camp and theatrical), nothing makes any sense, then there's the hilarious Edward 'suicide' moment. There's a few 'suicide moments' in the film, all not what they seem, it's a cry for attention from the characters and the film-makers.

When Edward gets his turn, it's to be a Grand Reveal, showing the throng of mortals outside who he really is.  Somehow he only manages to muster the attentions of a young girl, even as Bella dashes like a lunatic in his direction. Everyone else ignores him, just like one of those emo kids you see at the shopping mall.

Plot and script seem to take second place to how the film looks. The males, significantly, are fetish objects, shot like they're in a perfume advert. Bella spends longer looking at Jacob's impressive rack than she does his face. 'When did you get so buff?' she asks.  She's a rather shallow girl like that, and tends to overthink things, I decided.  I felt sorry for her Dad.  She's quite a worry, howling at night then vanishing for days.

As I say, it was all a strange experience (and admittedly, rather beguiling at first). A bit like a teen crush.

I'll give it two (non-penetrative) lovebites out of five.

Outlander (2008) - I'm being kind about it

Outlander (2008) Dir: Howard McCain

It doesn't get much more high concept than this - a crashed spaceship strands alien starman in Iron Age Viking territory, slap-bang between two warring tribes. He's a Destroyer of Worlds, but is plagued with flashbacks of fiery desolation, caused by a dragonlike creature.

Thanks to a handy (but painful) device salvaged from the ship, said alien learns the viking ways in about five seconds. Which is a good thing, because he's captured shortly after. They think he's butchered a rival village - but the cosmic man sees the damage and knows that somehow the dragon-thing exists in this world also.

Frankly, it's all as bonkers as it sounds. Not that this is a bad thing.  Quite how Jim Caviezel (he was Jesus in that Mel Gibson movie) ended up in the lead role is a mystery, but he's ably supported by John Hurt and Ron Perlman. Sophia Miles looks lovely in it and gets to pout a bit, as well as swing a sword around.

The creature is the usual overly-designed, assault-on-the-senses CGI, but is used sparingly. Encounters are brief and bloody, and it's in those moments that Outlander most resembles Predator. One of the film's strengths is how it mixes things up. The plot isn't completely predictable and there's some surprising action.

With it's theme of 'going native', this movie predated Avatar by a good year. Unfortunately for Outlander's producers, Cameron really did raise the bar with his film; comparing those two movies, you can see how Avatar excels, especially in the visual depiction of alien worlds.

And as attractive as the viking thing is to me - has there been a viking-based movie that actually made much money?  13th Warrior, Pathfinder and Raising Valhalla all tanked at the box office. It seems that it'll take more than throwing SF into the mix, or 'from the producers of Lord of the Rings' at the top of the DVD box.

But if this film had been around when I was 12 years old, I'd have said it was the best film EVER.

Ten Things You Didn't Know About Jaws

Jaws (1975) is the stuff of legend. Notoriously troubled during production and plagued by problems, Spielberg cites it as his toughest shoot.

Naturally, nobody knew two years prior to release just how important it would become (smashing all previous box-office takings that summer and single-handedly creating the summer blockbuster); in fact, pretty much all concerned thought it was going to be a disaster, not least because of the oft-quoted stories concerning the completely unreliable shark effect, which Spielberg himself called 'the great white turd'.

I watched it again over the weekend and was amazed how well it all held up. Really, the shark isn't that bad - and of course, Spielberg's genius was to rack up that tension a good hour before we even see the beast.

There's lots of well-worn trivia about the mechanical creature, as well as John Williams' seminal score, but I thought it would be fun to jot down some facts less well-known. 

Here's my choice.

Ten Things You (Possibly) Didn't Know About Jaws

 

1. Blink and you'll miss it: As we approach the first night on the Orca, watch carefully and you'll see a shooting star rip across the sky, right behind Roy Scheider. (I'd never seen this until I watched the remastered version at the weekend - I read into it, wondering if it was a post-production effect, but apparently it is genuine.)

2. The role of Quint (Robert Shaw) was originally to be played by Lee Marvin, at least if Spielberg had got his way. Marvin turned the offer down, saying he'd 'rather go fishing'.

3. Chief Brody's son narrowly escapes getting chomped when the shark enters the shallow waters of Amity beach. He's held in hospital for the night, even though the nurse says he's only suffering 'mild shock'.

It's only when you see the sequence that didn't make the final cut that you realise the extent of the boy's trauma; the unintended victim of the shark attack puts himself in the path of the shark to save the child, holding the boy out of the way while the great white eats the man alive. Spielberg decided the scene was too gory and in 'poor taste'.
(The scene is available on the Region 2 remastered DVD release).

4. The movie is cited as the single biggest cause for a historic downturn in coastal vacations during 1975-76.

5. Spielberg was careful to avoid using the colour red (you'll not see anyone wearing it), so as to maximise the impact of blood on-screen when the shark attacks.

6. Quint's boat, The Orca, was so unseaworthy when production started - thanks to it's unfeasibly top-heavy design - that production staff had to quickly locate lead for ballast from the town of Martha's Vineyard, where Jaws was being shot. All they could find was lead lining due to go into a dentist's X-Ray room, which was rented for a high premium on a daily basis.

7. Author Peter Benchley disagreed about the ending of the movie so persistently, he was thrown off-set. His conclusion leant closer to that of Moby Dick, but Spielberg wanted a more cinematic 'punch'.  (Benchley now concedes the director's ending is the better of the two.)

8. Talking of Benchley - that's him as the television reporter, seen on Amity Beach during the 4th July scene.

9. One of the biggest shocks in the movie comes when a severed head rolls out of a wrecked boat. Unsatisfied with the initial audience screams, Spielberg re-shot the sequence in his editor's small home swimming pool, using a gallon of milk to muddy the water because he wanted his audience to 'scream louder'. It worked.

10. The bizarre, feral noise you hear as the shark carcass sinks to the bed of the ocean is the same effect used when the truck goes off the edge of the roadside during the climax of Spielberg's earlier Duel (1971).

Rebecca (1940): Who is 'The Second Mrs. de Winter'?

Rebecca (1940) Dir: Alfred Hitchcock

Mrs Danvers: [behind 'The Second Mrs. de Winter'* as she looks down onto the courtyard below:]
You've nothing to stay for. You've nothing to live for really, have you?
Look down there. It's easy, isn't it? Why don't you? Why don't you? Go on. Go on. Don't be afraid... 

*The Second Mrs. de Winter's first name was not given, in either the book or the film. She's a shy, self-conscious young woman from a lower-middle class background, and is a paid companion to Mrs. Edithe Van Hopper, a wealthy American woman. In Monte Carlo, she meets and marries the older, wealthy widower, Maxim de Winter, and, as his wife, becomes the mistress of Manderley. However, upon arrival, she is overshadowed by the memory of the late Mrs. de Winter, Rebecca. (via IMDB)

Also? That's a creepy scene. 

David Lynch's Ten Tips for Figuring Out Mulholland Dr.

Mulholland Dr. (2001) is one of the richest movie experiences I’ve ever had.  Baffling, confounding and (at times) maddening, it’s a typically Lynchian take on the Hollywood dream.

Some people get it on first viewing.  I didn’t - it took me FOUR before I felt I understood what I’d seen.  Some people hate it.  Maybe they didn’t get it at all.

Personally, I don’t think getting it matters too much - the movie has a wonderful, surreal quality and amazing performances (especially Naomi Watts - check out the audition scene); the net effect is like waking from a dense, beguiling dream you can’t shake.

If that sounds like a lot of work, here’s David Lynch’s ten clues to figuring out the movie.

1. Pay particular attention in the beginning of the film: at least two clues are revealed before the credits.
2. Notice appearances of the red lampshade.
3. Can you hear the title of the film that Adam Kesher is auditioning actresses for? Is it mentioned again?
4. An accident is a terrible event… notice the location of the accident.
5. Who gives a key, and why?
6. Notice the robe, the ashtray, the coffee cup.
7. What is felt, realized and gathered at the club Silencio?
8. Did talent alone help Camilla?
9. Notice the occurrences surrounding the man behind Winkies.
10. Where is Aunt Ruth?