Are you bringing the alien back to Earth?

Life

(2017)

(SPOILERS) There’s nothing terribly original about Life. Quite the reverse: you’re likely to suffer recurring déjà vu at its frequent employment of familiar tropes and plot devices. For much of the running time, however, that scarcely matters, so efficient is Daniel Espinosa’s direction and the conviction with which his cast runs through its paces. As Alien/The Thing/Prometheus knock-offs go, this isn’t going to win any awards for depicting a newly-discovered lifeform running amok despite a highly trained and disciplined team rigorously observing protocols that would contain such a contingency, but then, it was never going to be that kind of movie.

Some may, as a result, find Life increasingly exasperating for the ISS crew’s sometimes blockheaded decisions, but I was mostly happy to go with the flow – hey, I’m the guy who likes Prometheus – and I found the first hour, in particular, to be a tense, claustrophobic ride, even as I was inwardly shaking my head at well-worn no-nos such as breaking quarantine (Alien) and never, ever, whatever you do, touching the newly-discovered sentient alien life form like it’s a cute ickle baba (Prometheus). Using flamethrowers in such an environment – definitely not an arena the size of the Nostromo – also seems entirely foolhardy. But, if you can get past the lip service paid to verisimilitude, many of the slowly-whittled crew’s subsequent actions appear, if not entirely reasonable, at least not risible.

Life (perhaps the least commanding title one could imagine for such a movie, which is neither starring Eddie Murphy nor about the guy who photographed James Dean) admittedly retreats to more pedestrian thrills once we’ve become familiar with the creature’s general proportions (think vicious starfish-cum-octopus) and modus operandi, as the crew float fraughtly through a succession of opening and closing hatches while attempting to avoid/lure it.

Espinosa and writers Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick (Zombieland, Deadpool) have a number of tricks up their sleeves, such that, while you’re never in doubt on the general trajectory, it isn’t always evident what order the characters are going to peg it. I was fairly satisfied Ryan Reynolds was going to exit early on (the big/recognisable name in a Janet Leigh/John Hurt moment), purely because he seems to have a thing for that of late, but the biologist (Ariyon Bakare of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell), earmarked by the trailers as an early casualty and whose obsessiveness brings this down on everyone (if there’s any lesson here, and it’s thin, it’s the old one of the dangers of unchecked scientific inquiry), survives for much longer than anyone probably expected.

So too, in these movies the creatures are usually vulnerable to fire, but it’s established early on that being flambéed is not going to kill the thing (Calvin) even if it doesn’t much like it. And, in contrast to the tendency to keep such finds top secret for bioweapons divisions, the discovery of life on Mars is announced across the globe immediately (as if!)

The cast don’t have much to work with, character-wise (you know the writers aren’t exactly stretching themselves when their choice of Jake Gyllenhaal’s backstory is PTSD resulting from the most recent US conflict, so Syria in this instance), but play their parts with sufficient conviction that the minimalism is more a help than a hindrance. Reynolds is surely improv-ing during his scenes, as he’s the only one whose dialogue has any spark, but it’s Rebecca Ferguson’s quarantine officer who brings the most to the scenario; Gyllenhaal does his intense-stare thing, but without anywhere productive to channel it (apart from Goodnight Moon), while Bakare brings the right air of blinkered tunnel vision to his early scenes. Olga Dihovichnaya and Hroyuki Sanada, as the captain and the system engineer respectively, make less of an impression, although I could have done without the unsubtle paralleling of the latter’s wife giving birth with the “baby” on the station.

Technically, Life is first rate, the simulated weightlessness never in question and never slowing down the picture. Sure, some of the CGI is obvious when it comes to exterior carnage, and the creature is never in any danger of becoming an iconic design, but generally there’s a pleasing sense of groundedness to the environment (albeit, they’re in a luxuriously roomy ISS, complete with sleeping pods and escape capsules). There’s also a disturbingly convincing rat absorption that far outweighs any minor upset over actual humans being slain.

As I say, once the picture has established the parameters of its threat and we’re faced with the usual configuration of evacuate/prevent Calvin reaching civilisation/self-sacrifice, I was quite prepared for Life to have done all it was going to, interest-wise, and that we were set for a standard ending in which Jake heroically sacrifices himself while Rebecca escapes to Earth. I foresaw few potential variations (such as: Fergusson having to dispose of the creature herself when it gets wise to Gyllenhaal’s plan, or when his pod veers off course, she he has to course correct with her own, so they both expire). As a consequence, I was genuinely impressed by the apocalyptically bleak ending, one that retrospectively ups the game of the entire picture.

It’s isn’t as if you don’t get these sorts of dread climaxes (they’re commonplace in zombie movies), but in this context, it’s the sort of resolution you’d be more likely to discover as a rejected alternate on the DVD release. It’s especially notable for how much investment has clearly been put into it, not only for the dexterity of the fake out (we think Jake’s heading into space, and Rebecca to Earth, when its vice versa), but also for leaving both its doomed protagonists alive in the final shots. And that’s without Jon Ekstrand’s overwhelming ‘You’re all doomed!” score.

Espinosa’s direction is considerably more focussed and fluid than we’ve seen from his Hollywood excursions thus far, going some way towards making up for the mess that was Child 44 (although, with that cast and story potential, it does represent a significant demerit). He only occasionally appears to lose his bearings (the scene of the Soyuz docking seems to have lost some material, as Calvin attacking its crew appears only in long shots).

So yeah, Life isn’t going to win any awards for creative inspiration, or any awards for anything much, but as endings go, it’s armed with a doozy that should ensure a healthy post-theatrical life (it appears to have been rather ignored in cinemas). Maybe it’s just as well it won’t make enough money for an ill-advised sequel… Although, as ill-advised sequels go, that’s one movie I’d kind of like to see.

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

Your Mickey Mouse is one big stupid dope!

Enemy Mine (1985) (SPOILERS) The essential dynamic of Enemy Mine – sworn enemies overcome their differences to become firm friends – was a well-ploughed one when it was made, such that it led to TV Tropes assuming, since edited, that it took its title from an existing phrase (Barry Longyear, author of the 1979 novella, made it up, inspired by the 1961 David Niven film The Best of Enemies ). The Film Yearbook Volume 5 opined that that Wolfgang Petersen’s picture “ lacks the gritty sauciness of Hell in the Pacific”; John Boorman’s WWII film stranded Lee Marvin and Toshiro Mifune on a desert island and had them first duking it out before becoming reluctant bedfellows. Perhaps germanely, both movies were box office flops.

If I do nothing else, I will convince them that Herbert Stempel knows what won the goddam Academy Award for Best goddam Picture of 1955. That’s what I’m going to accomplish.

Quiz Show (1994) (SPOILERS) Quiz Show perfectly encapsulates a certain brand of Best Picture nominee: the staid, respectable, diligent historical episode, a morality tale in response to which the Academy can nod their heads approvingly and discerningly, feeding as it does their own vainglorious self-image about how times and attitudes have changed, in part thanks to their own virtuousness. Robert Redford’s film about the 1950s Twenty-One quiz show scandals is immaculately made, boasts a notable cast and is guided by a strong screenplay from Paul Attanasio (who, on television, had just created the seminal Homicide: Life on the Streets ), but it lacks that something extra that pushes it into truly memorable territory.

No one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.

The Matrix (1999) (SPOILERS) Twenty years on, and the articles are on the defining nature of The Matrix are piling up, most of them touching on how its world has become a reality, or maybe always was one. At the time, its premise was engaging enough, but it was the sum total of the package that cast a spell – the bullet time, the fashions, the soundtrack, the comic book-as-live-action framing and styling – not to mention it being probably the first movie to embrace and reflect the burgeoning Internet ( Hackers doesn’t really count), and subsequently to really ride the crest of the DVD boom wave. And now? Now it’s still really, really good.

Other monks will meet their deaths here. And they too will have blackened fingers. And blackened tongues.

The Name of the Rose (1986) (SPOILERS) Umberto Eco wasn’t awfully impressed by Jean Jacques-Annaud’s adaptation of his novel – or “ palimpsest of Umberto Eco’s novel ” as the opening titles announce – to the extent that he nixed further movie versions of his work. Later, he amended that view, calling it “ a nice movie ”. He also, for balance, labelled The Name of the Rose his worst novel – “ I hate this book and I hope you hate it too ”. Essentially, he was begrudging its renown at the expense of his later “ superior ” novels. I didn’t hate the novel, although I do prefer the movie, probably because I saw it first and it was everything I wanted from a medieval Sherlock Holmes movie set in a monastery and devoted to forbidden books, knowledge and opinions.

Say hello to the Scream Extractor.

Monsters, Inc. (2001) (SPOILERS) I was never the greatest fan of Monsters, Inc. , even before charges began to be levelled regarding its “true” subtext. I didn’t much care for the characters, and I particularly didn’t like the way Pixar’s directors injected their own parenting/ childhood nostalgia into their plots. Something that just seems to go on with their fare ad infinitum. Which means the Pixars I preferred tended to be the Brad Bird ones. You know, the alleged objectivist. Now, though, we learn Pixar has always been about the adrenochrome, so there’s no going back…

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies.

Watership Down (1978) (SPOILERS) I only read Watership Down recently, despite having loved the film from the first, and I was immediately impressed with how faithful, albeit inevitably compacted, Martin Rosen’s adaptation is. It manages to translate the lyrical, mythic and metaphysical qualities of Richard Adams’ novel without succumbing to dumbing down or the urge to cater for a broader or younger audience. It may be true that parents are the ones who get most concerned over the more disturbing elements of the picture but, given the maturity of the content, it remains a surprise that, as with 2001: A Space Odyssey (which may on the face of it seem like an odd bedfellow), this doesn’t garner a PG certificate. As the makers noted, Watership Down is at least in part an Exodus story, but the biblical implications extend beyond Hazel merely leading his fluffle to the titular promised land. There is a prevalent spiritual dimension to this rabbit universe, one very much

Piece by piece, the camel enters the couscous.

The Forgiven (2021) (SPOILERS) By this point, the differences between filmmaker John Michael McDonagh and his younger brother, filmmaker and playwright Martin McDonagh, are fairly clearly established. Both wear badges of irreverence and provocation in their writing, and a willingness to tackle – or take pot-shots – at bigger issues, ones that may find them dangling their toes in hot water. But Martin receives the lion’s share of the critical attention, while John is generally recognised as the slightly lesser light. Sure, some might mistake Seven Psychopaths for a John movie, and Calvary for a Martin one, but there’s a more flagrant sense of attention seeking in John’s work, and concomitantly less substance. The Forgiven is clearly aiming more in the expressly substantial vein of John’s earlier Calvary, but it ultimately bears the same kind of issues in delivery.

He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982) (SPOILERS) I don’t love Star Trek , but I do love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan . That probably isn’t just me, but a common refrain of many a non-devotee of the series. Although, it used to apply to The Voyage Home (the funny one, with the whales, the Star Trek even the target audience for Three Men and a Baby could enjoy). Unfortunately, its high regard has also become the desperate, self-destructive, song-and-verse, be-all-and-end-all of the overlords of the franchise itself, in whichever iteration, it seems. This is understandable to an extent, as Khan is that rare movie sequel made to transcendent effect on almost every level, and one that stands the test of time every bit as well (better, even) as when it was first unveiled.

In a few moments, you will have an experience that will seem completely real. It will be the result of your subconscious fears transformed into your conscious awareness.

Brainstorm (1983) (SPOILERS) Might Brainstorm have been the next big thing – a ground-breaking, game-changing cinematic spectacle that had as far reaching consequences as Star Wars (special effects) or Avatar (3D) – if only Douglas Trumbull had been allowed to persevere with his patented “Showscan” process (70mm film photographed and projected at 60 frames per second)? I suspect not; one only has to look at the not-so-far-removed experiment of Ang Lee with Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk , and how that went down like a bag of cold sick, to doubt that any innovation will necessarily catch on (although Trumbull at least had a narrative hinge on which to turn his “more real than real” imagery, whereas Lee’s pretty much boiled down to “because it was there”). Brainstorm ’s story is, though, like its title, possibly too cerebral, too much concerned with the consciousness and touting too little of the cloyingly affirmative that Bruce Rubin inevitably brings to his screenplays. T

They say if we go with them, we'll live forever. And that's good.

Cocoon (1985) Anyone coming across Cocoon cold might reasonably assume the involvement of Steven Spielberg in some capacity. This is a sugary, well-meaning tale of age triumphing over adversity. All thanks to the power of aliens. Substitute the elderly for children and you pretty much have the manner and Spielberg for Ron Howard and you pretty much have the approach taken to Cocoon . Howard is so damn nice, he ends up pulling his punches even on the few occasions where he attempts to introduce conflict to up the stakes. Pauline Kael began her review by expressing the view that consciously life-affirming movies are to be consciously avoided. I wouldn’t go quite that far, but you’re definitely wise to steel yourself for the worst (which, more often than not, transpires). Cocoon is as dramatically inert as the not wholly dissimilar (but much more disagreeable, which is saying something) segment of Twilight Zone: The Movie directed by Spielberg ( Kick the Can ). There

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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