[Editor’s Preface: Last week I mistakenly said that this week’s Pitch would be about Star Trek (2009). I apologize for the error. Also, this time around, I watched the “1990 Special Edition” of Aliens. It adds about 30 minutes to the film, and does fill in some holes, most dramatically about Newt’s and Ripley’s family. I enjoyed it.]
“Looks like love at first sight to me.”
Aliens shares a venn diagram space with Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Both movies rule; each sequel is better than the original; and I saw the respective sequel before I saw the original.
If you haven’t seen the original, you should. It’s excellent in its own right. Be ready, though: the original and this sequel are very, very different. Indeed, say what you will about James Cameron; most of it is likely reasonable and justified. It’s also undeniable, though, that he has made some excellent films, and to me, this one is his best—or at least, the most fun to watch.
It’s also far-and-away the best Aliens film; and I have seen, and will see, every successive film in the Aliens franchise (including the head-scratchingly bad Alien v. Predator films).
“Hey, maybe you haven't been keeping up on current events, but we just got our asses kicked, pal!”
The relevance of this next sentence will become clear in a few moments: Suicide Squad (2016) was a structural mess and one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen in a theater.
If you take away the very charming characters’ introduction packages, at bottom the film tells the story of a failed first mission. An idea that everyone said would be very bad turns out to be, after all, very bad. As a structural matter, I submit, there would have been a lot of value in showing the group, say, I don’t know, train together, or—more to the point—succeed in at least one thing before they fail.
Aliens, too, at bottom tells the story of a failed first mission. But Aliens gets so many things right structurally that Suicide Squad does not. First, there is a successful effort to establish the marines as successful. Through affirmations that this is a crew of “very tough hombres” and that there is “nothing they can’t handle,” their yarns about past conquests, and their attitudes and body language, we know this crew isn’t one to be messed with.
Second, though the fun doesn’t last long, it is fun. Apone plays both good cop and bad cop very well. Frost has a winner of a joke when Ripley throws her tray to the table in disgust about Bishop’s presence. (While I’m mentioning Frost, I’ll note here that he is involved in a wonderful reversal: riiight before the first battle truly begins, he’s involved in a jump scare that turns out to be a false alarm—only seconds before the real jump scares start. So good.)
Vasquez is a true delight. She’s my second-favorite character. Second only to the immeasurably charismatic Hudson. Bill Paxton is brilliant in this role, and executes gallows humor as well as any film character I can remember. And, I have to say: his exit is one of my favorite moments ever on film. I still get (perhaps overly) emotional watching it. I mean, it’s just so relatable. Who among us hasn’t felt surrounded and attacked by metaphorical xenomorphs? And who among us wouldn’t hope that when surrounded and attacked by these metaphorical xenomorphs, we would be able to fight valiantly and defiantly until the end, yelling at them (among other things), “Oh, you want some of this?!”? My goodness, what a scene. (I couldn’t resist: here it is, complete with German subtitles, and some NSFW language.)
The third structural element the film gets very right is in the devastation of the first attack. By the time Hudson iconically declares “[g]ame over,” we’re left with only three conscious marines, and have seen only a few minutes of intense action; it’s a script that confidently turns the tables quicker than most, and doesn’t leave much time for processing.
I’ll add here, too, that the first attack in its own right is brilliant. I just love the reveals as the marines approach the doomed colonists, as we learn piece by piece how intricate and shrewd the trap laid by the aliens is. By the time the marines actually come to respect the intelligence of the aliens, it’s too late.
The motion tracker is an awesome plot device, one the film uses again to wonderful effect (see above); serving as a soundtrack prelude to the action, it sets and ratchets tension. The use of the point of view helmet-cam shots also works especially well, ratcheting up the feelings of chaos and fear and helplessness.
“Why don't you put her in charge?”
The rest of the movie is a relentless sequence of one reversal after another. We have the sentry guns plan which fails—sort of. We learn we can’t expect a rescue for seventeen days. Then we learn that even if the group could survive “seventeen hours” with the aliens, they don’t even have four before they will be blown to bits. Then we have Burke’s heel turn, and the very scary scene of Newt and Ripley fighting desperately to avoid implantation. And just as Ripley is laying out her deductions of Burke’s plans to get the species back to earth—which, in and out itself, is quite chilling—we learn that “[t]hey cut the power.”
That second extended battle scene—featuring the aforementioned death of my beloved Hudson—rules. There are Hicks and Vasquez, welding the door shut, convinced they “didn’t miss anything.” And there’s Hudson, counting down the distance between them and the aliens. And then, my goodness, the only shot cooler than them looking up at the ceiling is the couplet of shots of Hicks’ face as he lifts the panel, and then what he sees. Just masterful. (Again: see above.)
There are very few moments to catch your breath until the end. Indeed, right when we think we get a moment of redemption, when Ripley concedes that Bishop “did okay,” he gets impaled, and we’re right into the final boss battle.
How relentless are the reversals? I won’t spoil anything here, but I think I can say that if you’ve seen Alien III—again, a film that is not as good as this one—you know that they saved perhaps the most gut-wrenching reversal for the time and space between the second and third installments of the franchise.
“These people are dead, Burke! Don't you have any idea what you have done here?”
There is, I think, at least a semi-reasonable pitch for this film to be taught in some version of a high school Film Lit class, one that is grounded in politics. Now, of course, a class could discuss the plain-to-the-eye themes of the weaponization and capitalization of science. Indeed, the remaining films in the franchise openly—and sometimes ham-handedly—focus on these themes.
I’ll say, though, that I came across a slightly different angle, one that I think would be fun to talk about in class, as I recited this story to my sons as a bedtime story.
[Historical footnote: I can’t remember why, but I made some reference to this film one day when I picked my sons up from school, and they asked me about it, and I decided to tell it to them over the course of a few nights. Say what you will about the wisdom of that decision—they loved the story. How much did they love the story? The day after we finished the story, my oldest was in a “morning circle” at school, and the day-starting question was, “What’s your favorite movie?” My oldest answered confidently: Aliens.
When I spoke with the teacher after school, I did point out that, as a third grader, he had never seen the actual movie. I decided at that point that there was only one thing to do: show him, and his first-grade brother, the movie. Say what you will about that decision—they loved the movie.]
As I told them the story, it occurred to me that there’s a parallel to another truly great movie about aliens: Starship Troopers. (I don’t know when, yet, but that film will be in a summer Pitch one of these days. It’s remarkable.) I told the boys that I’m not saying we should cry for the aliens; on the other hand, what are they supposed to do? They’ve been transplanted onto a new planet, and then a group of colonists just invades and decides to take the planet for themselves. And then they bring in their big bad military to wipe you out. What would you do?
Anyway, it might not be the most sophisticated astro-political lens, but I do think it’s a fun one. And it does create a potential link to, say, Jurassic Park, and Frankenstein. (And if that pairing sounds familiar, it’s probably because I mentioned those two as possibly forming a unit with The Prestige. If you haven’t read it, check it out here.)
“Not bad for a human.”
I’ll close here with a few mostly unrelated notes:
I want to be clear that I am not a Second Amendment enthusiast. And yet I must confess that if I ever had to shoot a gun, I would want it to be the one featured in this film, the m41-A pulse rifle.
For all the doom and gloom in this picture, there’s an under-discussed silver lining: apparently, in the future, we’ve figured out how to reduce—and, indeed reverse—inflation. Seriously, when you watch it next time, listen for what the prices are for the tech mentioned. Items that would easily go for more than a billion today are listed as worth mere millions.
One of the coolest things about Old Twitter was the presence of an account claiming to be Hudson. It would quote tweet any tweet remotely about Private Hudson. Check out this fun exchange I had with it last year.
“That's it, man. Game over, man. Game over!”
See you August 2nd, when we discuss Star Trek (2009).