The Alien franchise has long thrived on the malleability of its basic premise: place unsuspecting humans in a confined space with a perfect predator, and then watch as dread, despair, and a whole lot of gore ensue. Yet, with each instalment, this simple formula has been filtered through the distinctive lenses of its directors. From Ridley Scott’s claustrophobic original, a haunting meditation on isolation and corporate indifference, to James Cameron’s bombastic, adrenaline-fueled sequel, each film has stamped its own aesthetic and thematic imprint on the franchise.
Now, the modern godfather of the grotesque, Fede Álvarez , has sculpted his vision of the franchise into a psychosexual nightmare which embraces its roots with both ooze-soaked hands and yanks us into a relentless, viscerally charged cinematic experience that redefines the potential for nostalgia-fuelled franchise instalments. Set between the events of Scott’s Alien and Cameron’s Aliens, what Romulus brings to the table is not reinvention, but refinement. The seasoned Uruguayan purveyor of horror behind Evil Dead and Don’t Breathe , embraces the franchise’s legacy with fangirl enthusiasm, and helps Romulus find its footing by sidestepping the pitfalls of reinvention.
Instead, Álvarez opts for a return to form, an homage to the franchise’s gritty origins that injects it with a potent dose of contemporary sensibility. The plot is a straightforward, almost spartan affair — a group of young colonist.