Happy Alien Day!
First, let me get something out of the way: It's Alien Day! Woo!
That being said, I thought today would be a perfect occasion to share a little Alien-related nonfiction I wrote last year in commemoration of Aliens 30th anniversary. So without further ado...
The Nightmare of My Choice: Aliens at 30
When I was a kid in the 1990s, I was a certifiable weenie (I still am). I hated roller coasters (I still do). If you had asked me what movie I thought was scary then, I would have said Ghostbusters 2 (Vigo is still scary). Yet the most bone-chilling things in the universe were aliens of all shapes and sizes. Nothing terrified me more than the idea of the Fire in the Sky aliens abducting me in the middle of the night. The X-Files’ ‘greys’ were no better. My worst nightmares were those where I imagined that ‘they’ were standing in my bedroom, watching me with their big…black…eyes.
Let's not forget the comic books!
Yet when it came to the aliens in the Alien franchise of films, we had a much more…complicated relationship. Don’t get me wrong; they still scared the ever-living crap out of me. But growing up, I felt as if the Xenomorphs were ‘my kind of aliens.’ Maybe it was because they didn’t have any other agenda than to cocoon you up for a date with a facehugger. With them, you knew the score. No probing, no psychological torture, just the facehugger and a quick death a couple hours later.
As Aliens celebrates its 30th birthday this summer, I’ve been thinking a lot about the movie, along with the whole Xenomorph lore that both enthralled and terrified me as a kid. The time has arrived to once and for all exorcise some aliens from my subconscious.
It all goes back to my childhood. Growing up, my parents were really liberal when it came to R-rated movies. In fact, the first VHS I bought with my own money was James Cameron’s breakout film, The Terminator. To this day I wonder what that clerk at Sam Goody thought about my parents when eight-year-old me waddled up to the register.
Around that same time was my first viewing of Aliens. Like most boys, I fell in love with the M41A Pulse Rifle and all the other military goodies. That reminds me, why don’t power loaders exist in real life? Caterpillar should really get on that.
Anyway, though I had never seen the first film, Aliens became my passion. The first CD I ever owned was the official soundtrack. Emulating Ripley, I wrapped my toy guns together with duct tape. I had all the action figures and comic books. I dreamed about going to Alien War in London. Yep, I was pretty much obsessed.
Back to the aliens in Aliens. Besides the facehugger specimens discovered early on in the film, an actual alien does not show up until well over an hour into the movie. It appears ‘courtesy’ of actress Barbara Coles, who in my opinion delivers the best ‘death by chestburster’ performance of any of the franchise’s movies. No offense to John Hurt in Alien, but he really overplayed the whole ‘twitching hands’ thing long after the chestburster killed him. It’s all right, Mr. Hurt, you made up for it in Spaceballs! Maybe call it advancements in chestburster technology between 1979 and 1986, but the scene works so much better in Aliens.
In fact, Aliens’ entire first action sequence is a master class in making an effective action/horror scene. It begins with the standard dramatic irony. Even first time viewers can accurately guess what is about to go down when the marines enter the alien hive. Yet Cameron isn’t shooting for a ‘gotcha’ moment. In fact, he’s building up expectations only to subvert them. As the marines enter the hive, they and we know that ‘something’ is in there. That unease shared by characters and audience is pure horror. At this point, any other slasher movie would have proceeded from horror to terror, the feeling that ‘something is coming!’ Terror normally leads up to surprise, when the monster reveals itself to kill or be killed.
Yet in Aliens, surprise follows horror. After the chestburster emerges out of Ms. Coles’ chest, Sgt. Apone quickly kills it with a flamethrower. Problem solved…until pure terror starts literally “coming outta the goddamn walls!” From the APC, we, like Ripley, can only catch glimpses of the aliens through the small TV monitors linked to the marines’ helmet cameras. Even though the APC is ‘safe,’ there is more terror in Lt. Gorman’s eyes than the brief glimpses of the firefight shown to the audience.
That’s not to say that Cameron doesn’t ‘follow the rules’ when it comes to scary scenes. The crash of the dropship follows the classic horror-terror-surprise pattern to a T. The hapless co-pilot touches some strange slime in the loading bay (horror). The cocky pilot can’t reach the co-pilot on the intercom (terror). The alien walks right into the cockpit and butchers the pilot (surprise!). Cameron goes the extra step by showing only the periphery of the slaughter. With only a few sprays of fake blood (probably squirted from a ketchup bottle), the viewer’s active imagination is left to picture the alien chowing down on the pilot’s skull.
After Ripley and the marines find themselves stranded on LV-426, the rest of Aliens more closely follows the standard action movie formula…at least until the Queen shows up on the Sulaco and tears Bishop in half. I doubt that modern cinema will ever create another ‘Oh shit!’ moment of that caliber. I must now point out that many others much more eloquent that I have described the cinematic brilliance that is Ripley vs. the Queen. Just thinking about it, all I can add is, “it was pretty f#(%ing awesome!”
Aliens’ final scene is an emotional departure from what viewers experienced in Alien. In Alien, Ripley is unsure of her future, and even hints at the possibility that she might float through space for the rest of time. In Aliens, however, all is right with the world. Ripley is not the sole survivor. This time, she is able to save the people she cares about.
For me, and I’m guessing for a lot of other fans, too, Aliens is when the franchise truly ended. Though Fincher’s Director’s Cut brings a lot to the table, I imagine Alien 3 as an exercise in ‘what-if’ rather than something linked to the work of Ridley Scott and James Cameron. Now with Neil Blomkamp taking the reigns of Alien 5, it’s hard to say what he’ll do with a movie where Ripley, Newt, and Hicks never died. I still haven’t decided whether or not I’ll be there on opening day.
Ridley Scott’s Alien: Covenant is another story. In it Danny McBride plays the pilot. Just the thought of Kenny Powers running away from a Xenomorph makes me reach for my wallet.