Alien: Romulus an effective return to form
Obviously a student of the Alien franchise, writer/director Fede Alvarez has managed to do something that I thought was impossible – he’s delivered a worthy addition to the series, a feat that’s proved elusive for many filmmakers and one that proves to be an effective callback to the Ridley Scott classic. Taking place between Alien and the 1985 follow-up Aliens, Romulus focuses on a group of young workers who find themselves stranded on a far-off mining colony, overseen by the omnipresent, ever-evil Weyland-Yutani Corporation. Having been told her contract has been increased by 12 years, Rain (Cailee Spaeny) is desperate to get back home, so much so that she agrees to go along with a desperate plan to escape.
Approached by her friend Kay (Isabel Merced), whose brother Tyler (Archie Renaux) she once dated, she’s told of a deactivated docking station that’s drifting into the orbit of the planet where she’s stranded. It contains cryogenic chambers that would allow her and her cohorts to sleep long enough to make the trip back to Earth. All that needs to be done is to take the units off the ship, install them on another, go to sleep and set the autopilot for home. Easy peasy.
Along for the ride are hotshot pilot Navarro (Aileen Wu), motormouth Bjorn (Spike Fearn) and the synthetic Andy (David Jonsson, a standout), whose prime directive is to watch out for Rain, whose absent father has programmed him to do so. Damaged and lacking updates, he’s a bit slower than other cyborgs, yet his “heart” is in the right place, his allegiance to her unquestionable, their bond unshakeable.
Of course, once this crew reaches the derelict ship and starts their salvage operation, things go sideways in a spectacular, horrific manner as the craft’s cargo includes not one, but many, many xenomorphs who’ve been waiting for fresh hosts.
Alvarez has done his research and with production designer Naaman Marshall and cinematographer Galo Olivares, they’ve replicated the look and feel of the 1979 original, creating a seamless connection to the previous film that proves vital. Callbacks to that movie occur throughout, none of them gratuitous, all logical allusions that give depth and resonance to the story. But more importantly, it returns the franchise to a more intimate scale that creates a much more ominous, claustrophobic setting, which Alvarez exploits to great effect.
Wisely, Alvarez takes a very deliberate approach to the story, which serves a dual purpose. Not only is time taken for the necessary world building to reestablish and expand on the Alien universe, but tension is built by delaying the requisite scares. However, once they begin, Alvarez delivers the goods with one imaginative sequence after another, putting the characters in situations of peril that are suspenseful, as well as fun. In the end, I found myself grinning over how clever the film is more than looking at it through threaded fingers.
And while there are many good things at play, the film suffers in two glaring areas. Like so many modern action epics, Alvarez doesn’t realize when he’s overstayed his welcome. Third-act bloat sets in, as Rain must go back again and again to face the saliva-dripping, multi-jawed threat, the suspense ruined by the repeated cycle of familiar narrative beats. More egregious are two visual effects sequences that are so slipshod they take us out of the story. While Alvarez’s intention to use practical effects throughout is commendable, this approach results in some obviously slipshod work.
Still and all, Romulus proves to be a return to form that’s been absent for far too long in the franchise. Cheaply rendered sequels, B-movie team-ups and over-thought prequels have made for a frustratingly inconsistent series of movies. And while not perfect, this latest entry gets things back on firmer ground by delivering a smart story, intriguing science-fiction and the sorts of thrills viewers embraced when this saga first began. In theaters.
Sweet Penguin a welcome surprise
It's well-documented that having a pet is therapeutic, providing companionship, a sense of purpose and myriad other benefits. And while most opt to adopt a dog or cat, Joao Pereira de Souza found himself giving shelter to a wayward penguin. Based on a story that went viral in 2016, David Schurmann’s My Penguin Friend tells the story of this unusual friendship, one necessitated by need, sustained by loyalty.
The film begins with a heartrending tragedy as we witness the tragic death of de Souza’s son, a burden the man refuses to put down as the years go by. Shattered, his fellow villagers look at the fisherman as a lost cause, shuffling through life with little purpose. However, fate brings him the most unlikely companion as he finds an injured penguin on the Brazilian beach where he lives. Having encountered an oil slick after drifting away from a raft of migrating penguins, the wayward bird is in dire need of assistance. Taking him in, de Souza cleans up, feeds and nurses the exhausted little guy back to health.
Reluctant to let him go, de Souza is soon wandering about town with the bird, given the name Dim Dim by a local, the duo becoming a fixture in the little village. That is, until our hero awakens one morning to find his companion has returned to the sea.
Yet, that’s not the end of the story as the bird returns, year after year at approximately the same time, a feat documented by a group of scientists who just happened to encounter and tag Dim Dim. They estimate he traveled nearly 5,000 miles between Argentina and Brazil, making the trip for eight years.
Truly a remarkable story, Kristen Lazarian and Paulina Ulrich embellish the tale in their screenplay but never to point of making it maudlin or fantastic. As de Souza, Jean Reno brings a soulfulness to the role, conveying the character’s heartbreak and hope with small gestures and expressions. Knowing the bird is the true star, he takes a subtle approach that proves effective.
I fear this film will likely be lost amidst the bigger budgeted blockbusters that clog multiplexes during the summer season. That would be a shame, as this is not simply a wholesome, family film that refuses to pander to the audience, but a movie that contains a message we all need to hear. As a reporter documenting the story says about these events, “It gives me hope. I need that.” Right now, we could all use a healthy dose of what Penguin has to offer. In theaters.
Crazy Cuckoo an off-kilter surprise
This year is quickly becoming "the year of the accurate movie title." M. Night Shyamalan’s Trap was an aptly named affair, one in which the viewer was likely to feel ensnared by the inanity of the nonsensical script. Now comes Tilman Singer’s Cuckoo, a film that takes the concept of its title and runs with it. The setting is a remote resort in the German Alps, a rather rundown enterprise badly in need of a renovation. Fortunately, its owner, Herr Konig (Dan Stevens), has a former client, Luis (Marton Csokas), who happens be an architect and agrees to move his family there while the overhaul is completed. In tow are his wife, Beth (Jessica Henwick), their daughter Alma (Mila Lieu) and his other daughter from a previous marriage, Gretchen (Hunter Schafer), a teenager who is not happy to be there.
Made to feel like a third wheel from the start, she pouts and keeps to herself, while the others engage in family activities. Left alone, Gretchen soon discovers something’s not quite right with their new digs. Herr Konig is a bit too intrusive where the family is concerned and has a strangely intimate relationship with the local hospital. She also notes that many of the guests are young women who always seem to be nauseous or ill at ease, while Alma herself begins to act in ways that defy explanation. And the fact that a strange woman has been seen lurking in the woods certainly doesn’t put her at ease.
Singer does a masterful job of doling out just enough information to keep us hooked, as well as asking questions. While some may feel he holds his narrative cards a bit too close to his chest for most of the film, this approach peaks the viewers’ sense of curiosity rather than stoking a sense of frustration. The foreboding atmosphere proves effective as well, as the resort seems mostly cut off from the rest of the world, the surrounding forests increasing the sense of isolation and feelings of entrapment.
As for the logic of the film, it certainly wouldn’t hold up to any serious scientific scrutiny, but within the world of the movie, it all seems to make sense. The narrative mechanism Singer concocts is one that constantly pushes the boundaries of good taste as well as our expectations. That I was surprised by where the story went is an all-too-rare experience and a welcome one.
It should come as no surprise that this is not for all tastes, but horror aficionados will likely be well pleased with Cuckoo. While it delivers plenty of cringe-worthy moments, it’s the knowing humor that helps sustain this strange concoction, one that is best viewed with a raucous crowd and, if one is available, an ornithologist. In theaters.