Books & Film

Returning to the well

I have mixed feelings about Prometheus. Great direction. Expected. Beautiful to look at. Expected. We get to figure out one of the great mysteries of Alien. Thumbs up. But hiring Damen Lindeloff, one of the heinous masterminds behind the heinous Lost TV show to co-write the script, was not a wise idea. Lindeloff is no Ronald Shussett. He’s no Dan O’Bannon. Their lightning-in-a-bottle magic is only occasionally in evidence. Charlize Theron is, as usual, largely useless. Noomi Rapace is incredibly not easy on the eyes, although she tries her hardest. Michael Fassbender’s role is written with brute force, although he’s a critical member of the cast. That is Lindeloff’s fault. Lindeloff can’t write. He’s an idea guy without an ounce of nuance, utterly void of poetry. One of the worst screenwriters in Hollywood. A geek with a word processor and friends in high places.

Oh, and I know Jerry Goldsmith is dead, but his music is a main character that was conspicuously absent from a movie that could have benefited from some damned lovely creepy music. I blame Scott for this oversight, since his early sci-fi/fantasy movies depended largely on epic music to complete them.

That said, I enjoyed the movie, found it engaging, appreciated its horror, even though none of it was original, and will eventually own it. Mostly because it’s a great movie to look at and has some killer scenes. And I’ve missed Ridley Scott, even in watered down sci-fi mode.

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