Alien: Covenant (2017)

After I saw Prometheus in 2012, ostensibly returning director Ridley Scott’s prequel to Alien, I had such a viscerally negative experience that I’ve never gone back and rewatched the film. It worked on an instinctive level, with enough scares and dread, but the meandering narrative left me unfulfilled. It was a film without an ending, a prequel without a need to participate in the same universe. 

In fact, Prometheus was such an overall negative experience for me that it took me four years to watch its sequel, Alien: Covenant, which came out in 2017. At least this time, the film is unabashed about its ties to the Alien franchise, but it is so unbearably ponderous, and it takes far too long for much of anything to happen. By the time the film hits its strongest notes, most in the audience may have long since fallen asleep.

 

Android Walter (Michael Fassbender) awakens his ship of colonists after a solar flare damages their vessel. Once the repairs are complete, Captain Oram (Billy Crudup) and his second Daniels (Katherine Waterston) discover a mysterious broadcast that leads them to a planet perfectly suited for their settling mission. The planet, however, is home to a giant storm, a few mysterious creatures, and another android (also Fassbender) who appears to be the only survivor of a doomed ship ten years ago.

 

Alien: Covenant begins with a lengthy sequence between Fassbender’s robotic David and his human inventor, played by an uncredited Guy Pearce. The dialogue is laborious and painstakingly self-serious, as though this is the first time that such a scene has been presented between creator and creation. Pearce and Fassbender limp their way through dismally tedious monologues about creating life, and just when you think the scene can’t verge any further into cliché, Fassbender begins playing, of all things, Wagner on a conveniently adjacent piano. It’s guaranteed to induce a hearty groan from anyone who’s seen a science-fiction movie in the last forty years, yet this prologue is so sententious that it casts a dour pall over the rest of the movie.

 

It’s another forty minutes or so before the plot of the film really gets going, after taking much too long to introduce a crew of no fewer than nine characters – half of whom, don’t worry, will be alien fodder before too long. You’ll have to wait nearly an hour before seeing so much as a hint of an alien, which is a bit of a problem, especially because the alien hijinks in Covenant aren’t anything we haven’t seen before. There are blundering humans who unwittingly infect themselves with alien spores, alien eggs that ought to ring a bell for fans of this franchise, and things that go bump in the dark. There’s even a familiar piece of heavy machinery that plays a significant role early in the film’s climax; it’s not the cargo-loader from Aliens, but it’s close. 

 

Indeed, Mark Kermode has rightly called Alien: Covenant a “greatest-hits” collection, reprising so many recognizable moments to diminishing effect. One senses that Ridley Scott is re-staging them with all the dramatic flourish of the original King Kong, as if to say it’s all been building to this – ta-da! Yet we’ve been down this road once or twice already; we’ve seen it all before. There’s an instinctual fear of the darkness and of sudden scares, and Scott is deft at manipulating the audience into being startled, but at the same time any eagle-eyed Alien fan will probably spot some of these jumps coming. (Cautionary tale: if you’re in space, never ever go into a medical bay.)

 

Just about the only fresh thing the film does is to cast Fassbender as the dueling android twins David and Walter. Fassbender shines in these twin roles, not least of all because of the different accents he employs. He manages to make both characters visually distinctive in their mannerisms and bearings, yet Alien: Covenant finds a way to wear out your patience in a few navel-gazing sequences where the two androids explain the plot to each other before – and I cannot make up this level of narcissism – kissing. It’s a perfect metaphor for how enamored the film is of itself and its own weighty, needless mythology. 

 

You sense that the makers of Alien: Covenant are trying, really trying. Katherine Waterston is a fine update on the Sigourney Weaver archetype, and the film gives her enough room to carve out a unique take on the role. But no one else is quite trying at the level of Fassbender and Waterston, and the film is mired in its own reflection. There are things that will always work in an Alien film, but that doesn’t mean you can string them together time after time for a guaranteed winner. It took me four years to watch Alien: Covenant; maybe I should have waited a little longer.

 

Alien: Covenant is R for “sci-fi violence, bloody images, language and some sexuality/nudity.” Directed by Ridley Scott. Written by Jack Paglen, Michael Green, John Logan, and Dante Harper. Starring Michael Fassbender, Katherine Waterston, Billy Crudup, Danny McBride, and Demián Bichir.

Watchmen (2009) [Director's Cut]

Cinema King's journal - July 21, 2009. Tonight a comedian died on Blu-Ray. And Zack Snyder's ambitious adaptation of Alan Moore's sacred graphic novel has never looked - or downright been - this good before.

If there's one thing comics fans can agree on, it's that Moore's 1985-6 classic (illustrated lovingly by Dave Gibbons) is almost gospel as far as funny books are concerned. If there's a second thing we (because I'm one of you) can all agree on, it's that the film adaptation - from the "visionary" director of 3oo (itself a filmed version of Frank Miller's Spartan text) is highly divisive; you love it, or you hate it, but there's no middle ground. Of all the people I know who saw the film and read the book, I'm the only one who liked it. (Uninitiated folk who hadn't read the book, like my father, liked the film, too.) With the director's cut released on DVD now, I'm pleased to say that I like Watchmen a little bit more now.

For those who haven't read Moore's seminal book (and, really, you should), Watchmen takes place in a dystopian 1985 where Nixon is still president, where America won the Vietnam War, and where superheroes existed but have been forced to retire. The film begins with the murder of one of those retired masked avengers, The Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan, pitch-perfect at laughing in the face of life's absurd joke). Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley, who I'd like to see get an Oscar nod for his spectacular performance), the last vigilante, believes there's a conspiracy afoot and tries to warn Night Owl (Patrick Wilson), Silk Spectre (Malin Akerman), and Dr. Manhattan (a CGI'd Billy Crudup, who keeps his Mastercard voice), who initially doubt his theory. An assassination attempt on Adrian "Ozymandias" Veidt (Matthew Goode) and worsening tensions at home and in the heating-up Cold War quickly change the heroes' perspectives, forcing some out of retirement and to a cataclysmic, now-classic climax.

It's impossible to talk about the film as if the director's cut didn't exist, because this is the Watchmen you should see. Though it runs three hours long, the director's cut patches up the flaws of the theatrical release - wooden acting, poor pacing, and a streamlined yet loosey-goosily-loyal treatment of the source material - even if it doesn't restore Moore's fishy ending (it's a pun, not a knock on the man from Northampton). Akerman didn't strike me as particularly solid in the theatrical cut, but she's at worst serviceable and at best complex in the new version. Crudup brings plenty of emotional depth to the seemingly withdrawn Manhattan, Wilson is his standard schleppy self (a perfect fit for Dan Dreiberg, the ultimate schmuck), and Goode - though he's not given much in the film to work with - does a more than decent job of wrestling with his great powers and his greater responsibility to the planet.

The stand-out in the cast - Morgan aside - is Haley, who is so far 2009's Heath Ledger as far as outstanding performances go. Haley completely becomes Rorschach, inhabiting everything from his posture to his gravelly voiceover - and, after Adaptation., anyone who can make me enjoy narration and isn't named Morgan Freeman is doing a lot of heavy lifting. (Of course, to remove the iconic narration from the source material would here be criminal, especially when it contains such fanboy-giddy lines like, "The city screams like an abbatoir full of retarded children.") Haley does a great job with the mask on, but once the inkblot face is removed he unleashes a range of facial twitches and verbal tics that will probably get snubbed by the snooty Academy.

The director's cut is a more loyal adaptation of Moore's work (again, ending notwithstanding), reintegrating a lot of the book's smaller moments and taking the time to build an entirely new world. Extended scenes with Nixon (though the actor portraying Tricky Dick isn't as talented as Frank Langella in Frost/Nixon) as well as amped-up flashbacks (especially Akerman's) and extended conversations (as with Dr. Malcolm Long) create the sense that this three hour epic is just that - a huge-in-scope undertaking. What's most welcome in the 24 new minutes of footage is some more material with Stephen McHattie's Hollis "Nite Owl I" Mason, whose life - and death - are finally given the sadly nostalgic treatment the book afforded him; with this comes more Carla Gugino, too, as Silk Spectre's fame-crazed dramatic stage mom, who is less compelling and perhaps a bit too showy. At three hours, the film can now relax and breathe for a second (the theatrical cut suffered a bit from over-exposition - a necessary evil with such weighty material - while the original climax seemed rushed and frenetic), giving fanboys and newcomers alike the chance to really watch the Watchmen.

And by the end, you'll forget all about that dang squid, anyway.



Watchmen is rated "R for strong graphic violence, sexuality, nudity and language." The director's cut is slightly grittier, but both edits feature gory close-ups of extreme violence, including vaporizations of people, street fights, and the hacking and sawing of several gory body parts. While Dr. Manhattan is almost exclusively naked (and blue - we see everything), other sexual content includes one sex scene with nudity and one abortive one without, as well as discussion of adultery, rape (an attempted rape is shown), erectile dysfunction (treated humorously), and sex as placation. Language consists of several F-bombs tossed around lightly.

Note: the director's cut includes neither Tales of the Black Freighter nor Under the Hood. These are still available separately, though a flyer inside the DVD case teases of an "Ultimate Collector's Edition" 5-disc set coming in December, which will contain both side-features. For my money, though, the film is stronger with these as separate bonus features than as part of the film proper, and so I recommend eschewing the 5-disc splurge set and sticking with two separate discs.

Public Enemies (2009)

Take two of my favorite actors - Johnny Depp and Christian Bale - have them adapt a stellar piece of history, and throw in Michael Mann, gangsters, and machine guns for good measure. Sounds like a recipe for success. Certainly expectations are high on this one. After all, the true story of John Dillinger is the stuff of legends - the Crown Point prison break, Baby Face Nelson, the lady in red (actually orange).

It took me all of a week to devour the 550+ pages of Public Enemies: America's Greatest Crime Wave and the Birth of the FBI, 1933-34, a top-notch work of nonfiction by Bryan Burroughs. The book focuses on a curious time in American history, when Bonnie & Clyde, the Barkers, John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson, and Alvin Karpis were headlining the criminal culture - all at the same time. (Think about that: all these "yeggs" running around in the same two years.) At that moment in history, J. Edgar Hoover proposed converting the Bureau of Investigation into a more powerful organization, which would come to be known as the FBI.

The movie limits its scope somewhat, focusing primarily on the escapades of Dillinger (Johnny Depp) and the FBI's pursuit, led by Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale) and bureaucratic brass Hoover (Billy "Dr. Manhattan" Crudup). Following Dillinger from an early prison break through his romance with Billie Frechette (Marion Cotillard) and up to the fateful night at the Biograph Theater. Mann's film is a curious mix of docudrama, gangster/G-man combat, and ruminations on mythologized figures - never quite sure what it wants to be.

The Burroughs book was exactly the same, its principal ambition to set the record straight and postmodernly demythologize the criminal figures dominating our cultural imagination. Yet Burroughs has nearly 600 pages to meander through the story. Mann's got two hours, which he uses to hit the high notes of the Dillinger-Purvis battle though the movie suffers from some heavy Hollywood romanticization. I don't want to be one of those "The book was much better than the movie" people (thank you, Jim Gaffigan, for identifying those irksome folks), and I'd hate to be the kind of guy who nitpicks and condemns the movie for failing to depict verbatim the source material on the screen. Remember, I'm the guy who was okay with the new Watchmen ending (Moore's original ending being something of a grail among literature). But whether you bring it into the theater with you or come out looking for it, make sure you get your mitts on a copy of the source material.

The good news is that Depp and Bale are sterling as ever, though Bale turns it down a notch and wisely allows the picture to be Depp/Dillinger's. Depp is as good as he's ever been, albeit somewhat restrained, with the perfect balance of charisma and anxiety. Crudup simmers as Hoover, suggesting with furrowed brow and impatient staccato delivery the depth of his desire (explored at length in the book) to be a powerful law agency. And Cotillard is drop dead gorgeous (something the real-life Frechette couldn't exactly claim), though a little empty in key points with her native accent slipping through at distracting moments; we can see clearly, though, what Dillinger sees in her - the chemistry between the two is touching, charming, and completely believable.

The film tries to tell all of these stories in a way that only an epic could. This is a very good movie, but like Brokeback Mountain it could have been great. Mann's direction is fine, especially in shoot-outs and heists, but the screenplay (as aforementioned) is a little confused (and, I speculate, could be confusing for novices of G-man lore). There's just something a little bit off besides the sour historical notes. It just doesn't break a whole lot of new ground; it's like The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford mixed with The FBI Story. The documentary feel of the film does exactly what it sets out to do, albeit with a little unnecessary Hollywood glitter sprinkled on. With another half hour to tell the stories more fully, Public Enemies could have been great.

As it stands, it's very good. (Keep reading for a fuller analysis, for those interested, of diversions from fact.)
Public Enemies, predictably, is rated "R for gangster violence and some language." The violence pervades the movie, with blood and guts following almost every gunshot in the film. Language didn't seem too bad to me, but maybe I'm saltier than I'd like to admit.

As for the historical issue, the film's principal "sin" is the romanticization of the Dillinger/Frechette... well, romance. Burroughs doesn't provide the sort of Hollywood "enduring love, never forgotten" subplot the film does, suggesting instead that Dillinger really did eventually let Frechette go. The film also curiously puts the closing act of Purvis's FBI career - the death of Pretty Boy Floyd - in the first reel of the film. Doubtless this is to gussy up Purvis's somewhat lackluster talents as an investigator; the book documents quite a few flubs on Purvis's part while the movie paints him as a more able G-man than perhaps he deserves credit. Like the film, Purvis was good - perhaps very good - but not great. The film also embellishes a Frank Nitti connection with Dillinger's eventual death.

Trailer Park: Watchmen (2009)

Get ready. If you thought my anticipation for The Dark Knight was overwhelming, take a look at this comic book adaptation. Zack Snyder attempts to do the impossible - adapt Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons's magnum opus Watchmen - and he seems to be doing a pretty good job of it so far. This is twice I've been wrong about comic book movies. First Heath Ledger knocks it out of the park with a performance I didn't know he had in him, and now "the visionary director of 300" seems to have a strong handle on this adaptation.

What's spectacular about this trailer is it appeals to both the diehard Watchmen fans - who are sure to marvel at Snyder's almost photorealistic rendering of panel-by-panel shots from the original maxiseries - and those new to the series that changed comicdom forever. Newbies, I challenge you not to marvel at the three Doctor Manhattans or feel a cold shiver run up your spine when Rorschach says that "I'll whisper... 'No.'"

What the trailer doesn't tell you is that Watchmen is landing on IMAX screens as well. Take another look at those special effects and tell me it won't be glorious to see Archie (the owlship) take flight or the clock structure on Mars rise out of the red dust - all on the big screen. What the trailer also doesn't do is give a semblance of plot to the movie. But that's the function of a teaser. What this one does - and does well - is generate interest in the movie. How else would you explain a skyrocketing of graphic novel sales on Amazon?

Who watches the watchmen? Anyone who's interested can, on March 6, 2009. 3-6-09.