One wrong note eventually ruins the entire symphony.
Walter, Alien: Covenant
I didn't purchase an advance ticket because I expected there to be lots of room: the movie's been out for over a month, reviews haven't been that brilliant, and it was a warm sunny afternoon. To my surprise, I had some difficulty finding a seat in the almost full theatre - perhaps I wasn't the only person there who was not allowed to see Wonder Woman yet.
The Alien franchise has certainly had its ups and downs over time, and although the latest offering has been accused of franchise fatigue, I was hopeful that it would be an improvement on its predecessor, Prometheus. Prometheus had incredible promise, but ultimately disappointed due to the lack of logic and consistency in the script.
How does the latest entry in the lineup fare by comparison? Well, let me introduce you to the crew of the Covenant. With no ill will toward anyone, my god, these people deserve to die. It is difficult to think of another group in the history of cinema who have been so willing to put themselves in danger's way over and over and over again - these idiots make the teenage victims from the Friday the 13th movies look like the acme of caution and prudence.
Covenant is a beautifully shot film, 79-year-old director Ridley Scott hasn't lost any of his deft touch with lighting and composition, and Michael Fassbender does a brilliant job as the villainous David, but the script is an endless litany of poor judgement on the part of the crew.
"Mysterious alien planet? Do we need to worry about alien organisms or viruses? Should we wear isolation suits? Nope! Jackets and earflap hats it is!"
Good plan.
"Let's not land too close to the distress signal! Eight kilometers away will let us have have a good long hike!"
Gosh, yes, sixteen kilometer round trip - why would you want to stay close to your sole means of return to the mother ship?
"Look, it's some kind of puffball! I'm going to get as close as possible and poke it with my bare finger! Hey, little black spores!!"
My god, man, I wouldn't want to do that on Earth, let alone in an alien biosphere!
"Ledward's spitting up blood - let's not quarantine him! No, wait, I'll quarantine him with another crew member after I've aspirated his blood!"
Because really, why would you wear anything other than rubber gloves to examine someone who is mysteriously sick on an alien planet? Oh, and three words: non slip flooring. Look into it.
"I'm going to call the mothership and scream incoherently at my husband! Then get a gun and shoot randomly at the alien until the lander explodes!"
And...done.
"The rest of the crew has created a defensive circle to watch for an alien thing that's roaming the darkness - I'll just stand outside of it and try to contact the ship."
What are the odds of anything bad happening because of that?
"I'm just going to go off all on my own to get cleaned up. I'll go as far as possible, take off my sidearm, and wash my wounds with my back to the door."
Absolutely do that. Smart move.
"Hey, I wonder what's moving around in this big organic egg thing? I'll just take a closer look."
Sure, lean right in there. Stick your head in. After all, the weird marooned android says that it's safe, what could possibly go wrong?
"Let's split up and look for the captain!"
Sign me up.
In An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth, ex-astronaut Chris Hadfield describes the rigourous training process that NASA employs to ensure that its astronauts are prepared to intelligently deal with any eventuality without panicking: equipment failure, a fire on the ISS, the death of one of the team members, or any contingency that could imperil the mission. Apparently this sort of training does not survive into the next century - nor, apparently, do many of the astronauts.
- Sid
P.S. And one more thing: damn it, it's Aurigae, not Origae - look it up. Please try to at least get the names of the constellations right.
No comments:
Post a Comment