Noomi Rapace (sans dragon tattoo)
headlines as Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, who theorizes that the
aforementioned pictograms – discovered in the art of different
civilizations the world over – are evidence that humans were
created by something beyond our world. “Engineers” is the term
she and her husband (Logan Marshall-Green) coin for our hypothetical creators, and
their thesis is enough to convince optimistically superstitious
trillionaire Peter Weyland to finance an interplanetary mission to
literally meet our maker. Anyone who's seen even one of the previous Alien films knows that going into space in search of answers is
seldom a good idea, and indeed, this entry proceeds to follow many of
the same beats as its predecessors. We are introduced to a mostly
expendable crew of characters, including one synthetic personality,
the robotic David, played with calibrated nuance by Michael
Fassbender, the clear standout of the cast. Naturally, there's enough
mistrust and hidden agendas to pique our suspicion until the bad
stuff starts happening to these curious cats.
It must not be disregarded that, like good science fiction should, Prometheus poses questions and speaks to themes of non-fictional relevance. Motifs about creation and self-sacrifice abound, gleaned from allegory to Greek mythology and Christian dogma. But should mere consideration of such lofty topics merit acclaim? There's something to be said for how effectively a film's director and writers (in this case, Jon Spaihts and Damon Lindelof, the latter of TV's Lost) can evoke thematic currents, and that's where it becomes all too easy to peck holes in Prometheus. Individual scenes feel like they were very much conceived with the intended subtext in mind, but there is very little logic to connect those scenes in a coherent way. For the audience, it becomes a confusing game of connect the dots, riddled with plot holes, baffling character motivations, and LOTS of loose ends. We cannot see the constellation for the stars, as it were. Worse still is the odour of contrivance that accompanies many plot developments, born out of convenience for the sole purpose of setting up some later “payoff”.
But if all you came for was a reliably
icky piece of summer eye candy, there's enough here to satisfy, even
if the face-palm writing still proves a distraction. One cannot argue
Scott's aptitude as a craftsman, and Prometheus looks and
sounds great. Arthur Max's darkly beautiful production design borrows
key strokes, as on would expect, from H.R. Giger's legendary concept
art, melding the organic and the technological with just enough
variation so as to distinguish this planet from LV-426 of the first
two Alien installments. Richard Stammers' visual effects are top
notch, and the aural elements are densely mixed to serve Scott's
atmospheric mood-building.
If Prometheus is merely part of a
larger celestial mystery (which we are set up to believe that it is),
it may reveal itself in time to be the audacious sci-fi it wants to
be. But until such time when we have the luxury of context and
retrospect, it remains a bewildering and unenlightening monster mash
which would rather give the illusion depth by posing heady questions
than actually demonstrate depth by probing them for answers.
** out of ****
