Prometheus did a good job of charming me. In fact, following my second viewing, it made me look up at the night sky in a little different way.
For those unfamiliar with the premise, in short: Ridley Scott revisits his Alien franchise with a story surrounding the enigmatic Space Jockeys (Great name for a band, no?), a paragon alien race that, amongst many other things, possibly created the Human race. A team of scientists and spacemen aboard the good ship Prometheus travel beyond the stars to search for their gods. As is the usual in those searching for God, what they find is nothing but disappointment and death.
It's a gritty Sci-fi. Touching on the horror genre no way near as strongly as the other entries in the series, but having its fair share of squirm factor body horror. Those seeking the chest bursters and flame throwers that are the staples of the franchise will not be disappointed. The sweeping vistas that are the first visuals the film offers are mesmerizing. It might have been the music, or the impossibly fantastic edge to the world we fly over, but you'll find yourself taken away with it awfully quickly. This is a world you want to see.
Stunning visuals of Scotland aside, what spellbound me about Prometheus was its existential bent. The concept of a simply biological God greatly upsets some viewers, but was by far the most interesting aspect of the film to me. The obvious standout performance is Michael Fassbender's Android, David. In fact, David is the reason I'm writing this article. David is a mix of characters. Not quite an antagonist, and certainly far too easy to sympathize with to be seen as the villain, yet far too malevolent to be a hero. An android indistinguishable from human, he possesses the darkest of wits and a strange obsession with Peter O'Toole. He is a mix of intentions and emotions that truly break the expectations in the tired old android character that populates most science fiction. David made me consider something. He silently laments his lack of a soul throughout the film, his interactions with other characters constantly falling short of his desires. He is after all, already dealing with his gods. The concept of the soul is so rife in our culture and mythology we take it as granted, that a creature of design, like an android, would be missing something on that basis alone. However, when I see a spider crossing the threshold of my doorway, I crush it beneath my foot without a thought for its purpose as a living creature, for it isn't an intellect. If an entity thinks, converses, and decides for itself like a human, I would consider it an equal...
Speaking of, It's 2012, where the fuck is the robot maid I was looking forward to?
Something you have to love about good stories are the unanswered questions. I find myself arguing over the motives behind the characters weeks afterwards. There is so much untold, so much we simply do not know about the Space Jockeys. They were mysterious before this segment of the franchise, they are possibly moreso now, after we've been teased with a glimpse into their existence. I want to know more. With a single question about the events unfolding within this film, I've sparked hour long debates about evolution, master and slave scenarios, and the concept of man as a beast. The opinions are heated, personal, and inspired by this film. Surely this is the mark of truly great science fiction?
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