30
Major Quibbles With Prometheus
***MAJOR
SPOILERS – PLOT DETAILS REVEALED***
Forget
what you know.
Forget
what you think you know.
Forget
what you wanted the film to be.
Forget
the ecstatic fanboy reviews the film garnered as every 30-something nerd in the
world rushed to praise the film, thankful that however disappointing it was, at
least it wasn’t The Phantom Menace.
Though two years from now, you’ll probably start reading a lot of
articles saying it was worse.
Forget
that clever piece of viral marketing that was the fake TED lecture or those
adverts for androids, featuring Michael Fassbender’s David 8.
Forget
the huge worldwide box office (when was that ever an indicator of quality;
there’s been four Pirates of the Caribbean, three Transformers and two Sex and the Cities). Forget the performances: the good, the bad and the mostly
mediocre. Forget the murky,
headache-inducing 3D, the too occasionally interesting visuals, the lacklustre
direction of a spent force trying to recapture his glory days, the complete
lack of suspense, the absence of dread or wonder.
Here’s
the truth no-one else will tell you, no-one else will admit to, that you don’t want to admit to yourself
despite the nagging Jiminy Cricket of taste, logic and sense, a-hopping
desperately up and down on your shoulder saying: “But…but…”
Here’s
the blunt, naked, unpleasant truth: Prometheus sucks.
It’s
bad. Really bad. It fails on virtually every level it’s
possible to fail on. It’s so bad,
watching it lowers your IQ. This
film makes you stoopider! But you
don’t care about that. If you’re
reading this, you’ve probably already seen it. You have your own opinion. You might be thinking about buying the DVD or Blu-ray. Which means that you probably liked
it. Telling you why you’re wrong (and
you couldn’t be more wrong) isn’t going to change your mind.
Instead,
this piece is merely going to pose some questions.
Not
the obvious ones like: Why would you run away in a straight line from a
crashing circular spaceship that’s rolling after you? Why does David infect Holloway with the alien black
goo/jism? Is Charlize Theron’s character an android, a
female David? What does David say
to piss off the alien? Why have
Charlize eject from the crashing spaceship and leave the escape pod only to be
run over by the crashing spaceship?
Why does the angry alien want to destroy humanity? Was he in the middle of a nice dream
when David woke him up?
No. Today, we’re concerned with the
questions that may have occurred to you during the film that you ignored. You buried them, you suppressed them,
like that memory of a late-night visit to your bedroom by a sneaky uncle. It’s time to let that pain out, it’s
time to ask those questions, to acknowledge the problems, that something isn’t
quite right.
- It takes the Prometheus two years to
get to its destination, at which point the crew find out why they’re
there. Exsqueeze me? Who signs up for a four-year
round trip into the unknown? Did no-one think to
maybe ask a few questions, like: Where are we going? Why? What the fuck do you mean we’re going on a four-year
mission into deep space because the Girl With The Dragon Tattoo found an ancient map in a cave in Scotland? When did we start trusting the
prehistoric graffiti of Pictish savages?
- Also, wouldn’t it be cheaper and
safer to maybe send an unmanned probe first, something similar to the Mars
Rover, just in case, you know, (a) there’s nothing there or (b) the
natives aren’t friendly? Have
these guys never seen a sci-fi/horror movie?
- During the briefing Charlize Theron
gives when the crew wakes up, she greets the ones she’s met and
introduces
herself to those she hasn’t.
If you were recruiting a crew to travel through space and possibly
be called on to represent humanity when they meet the alien race that
created them, wouldn’t you personally vet each and every one?
- And, leaving aside the problems of
time dilation, the movie’s only set, like, eighty years from now…is there no
governmental regulation of space travel? Surely NASA, the ESA or the UN would, at the very
least, want some kind of representative on board a spaceship that’s on a
mission to make first contact with the alien species who created us?
- What is the black goo? Seriously. What the fuck is it? Is it alien jism? Why does it’s purpose change from
scene to scene depending on which meat puppet is ingesting it and the
particular script hole the film needs to get out of? Is it sentient? One minute it’s turning alien
Duncan Goodhew into
life-giving soup the next it’s infecting pointlessly arsey archeologist Logan
Marshall-Green’s
happy sacs with alien sperm which causes barren Moomin Rapace to have an alien baby while also turning
punk geologist Sean Harris into a 28 Days Later rage mutant. It’s all a bit convenient.
- And while we’re on the subject of
alien mutant sperm, Marshall-Green’s supercharged swimmers knocked up
Moomin and caused her to gestate a giant alien squid baby within
days! But at the start of the
film, there’s that whole Guinness Rhythm of Life ad-inspired sequence where the
‘Engineer’ disintegrates into a river and seeds a barren Earth. This means his mates are then
going to have to hang around several hundred million years waiting for Man
to evolve before they can teach him the joys of interior cave design. Given how long it takes Moomin and
Marshall-Green to CREATE AN ENTIRELY NEW SPECIES, surely the Engineers could have
sped things up a bit? Maybe
fast forwarded through the 200 or so million years of dinosaurs?
- Also, we’re told humans and Engineers
share DNA. Makes sense, they
created us. However, as the
film shows, they created all life on Earth by an act of sacrifice. Which means the Engineers should
share DNA with every organism on Earth. So why doesn’t our DNA match every lifeform on
Earth? Our closest relative
is the chimpanzee and its DNA is only a 98% match.
- It’s revealed in the film that the
moon the crew of the Prometheus travels to is not our alien creators’ home
planet but a secret, remote bio-weapons facility, why did they paint the
directions to their secret weapons base on the walls of prehistoric
caves? That’s a bit like the
US Air Force printing visitor maps to Area 51 and scattering them from
planes over the Middle East.
- Arsey archeologist tells us the same
ancient paintings pop up in the cultures of lots of different ancient
civilisations that supposedly had no contact with each other including the
Picts, the Hawaiians, the Mayans, the Hittites, the Sumerians, the
Babylonians and the Egyptians.
While it’s doubtful the Picts had much truck with the Maya, the
Babylonians essentially grew out of the Sumerians and it’s well-documented
that the Sumerians, the Babylonians, and the Hittites all had extensive
trade and cultural links with ancient Egypt as well as warring with them
on several occasions. You’d
think that’s the kind of thing an archeologist might have to know before
they give him and his girlfriend a spaceship? You can learn this stuff from watching the Discovery
Channel on a weekday afternoon.
- Moomin carbon dates the dead alien
and tells everyone it’s 2000 years old. How?
Without wishing to be too technical, this is also bollocks. Carbon dating works by measuring
the level of decay of the radioisotope Carbon-14 absorbed from the
atmosphere by biological matter.
Long story short, without knowing the pre-existing baseline level
of Carbon-14 in the atmosphere of the ALIEN PLANET, it’d be impossible for Moomin to
carbon date a dead alien.
- Arsey archeologist tells the crew
that the atmosphere on the planet is 2% carbon dioxide and that if they
take their helmets off and breathe it, it will kill them within
minutes. Obviously, we don’t know
what global calamities or changes to our environment we’ll have to adapt
to in the future but presently, your average human can comfortably
tolerate a 3% carbon dioxide atmosphere for a couple of weeks before
suffering any ill effects.
So, in the future, does everyone have really, really bad asthma and
forgot to bring their inhalers with them? Also, he’s only an archeologist, what’s he doing giving
out dodgy medical advice when there’s already a medic and a biologist on
board? Surely, one of them should
be the one giving out the dodgy info the filmmakers couldn’t be arsed
researching?
- When the team is exploring the alien
ship, they take their helmets off because it has a breathable, oxygenated
atmosphere. Let’s be clear;
this is a derelict alien spaceship full of dead aliens who died in an
unexplained fashion. Why
would you take off your helmet?
What about the risk of alien germs or diseases? Also, these douchebags are
supposed to be scientists.
Wouldn’t they also be keen to avoid cross-contaminating a pristine
alien environment with Earthly/human germs and bacteria? What, scientific protocols are for
wimps, eh boys?
- In the alien CCTV recordings, what
are the aliens running from?
Has the alien jizz escaped and is chasing after them? If so, why is the dead alien they
find running towards the room that’s basically a dead alien sperm bank of
black goo?
- Milburn (human/rodent hybrid Rafe
Spall) is the crew’s
biologist. He’s there
specifically in case they find any dead alien bodies they can study. They find the body of an alien
who’s probably been dead for thousands of years, something that would be
the pinnacle of his career, that’d win him Nobel Prizes and set him up for
life. And instead of
examining it, he gets scared and wants to go wait in the car. Really?
- Milburn and Fyfield, the two most
cowardly members of the crew, get separated from the rest of the team, wander
off and get lost. Isn’t that
a bit out of character? And
how do they manage to get lost?
The corridor they are in is one big circle so if they just keep
walking they’ll get to the exit.
Also they’re in constant communication with Starship Captain
Stringer Bell (Idris Elba) and those little red GPS mapping balls that are flying around
would be able to find them.
- Also, Fyfield is the one who’s been
controlling the GPS balls.
Surely, he’s the last person who’d get lost?
- Milburn’s too scared to examine a
long-dead humanoid body but when they find a live, weird, aggressive
snakey thing that’s obviously up to no good (it’s a snake; snakes are
always up to no good), why would he get down to face-grabbing height and
wait for it to attack him?
- Come to think of it, the team are
wandering around a derelict alien spaceship unarmed. Did no-one think maybe they should
take some guns with them just in case they run into…let’s say, an
aggressive alien snakey thing?
- Also, if you’re going off to explore
an alien world and investigate an alien species, wouldn’t you take more
than one whiny biologist?
- A couple of the dead aliens they find
show evidence of being attacked/infected by creatures like the
chestburster. Why are there
no chestburster or xenomorph-type bodies lying around?
- Two members of the crew are missing,
trapped aboard an alien spaceship for the night. Is that really the time the two people in nominal
charge of the mission (Idris Elba and Charlize Theron) would decide to have
a quick bunk-up?
- Why did they think taking the alien
head back to the ship to zap it with electricity until it explodes was a
good idea?
- How come the robot doctor that
removes the alien baby from Moomin can’t perform a Caesarean as it’s
calibrated for a man and won’t recognise her as a woman but it has no
problem removing an unexplained alien creature just because she tells it
she has a stomach ache?
- How quickly does Moomin recover from
performing her own C-section?
Sure, she’s self-medicating but still…
- Why does Weyland (Guy Pearce) spend most of the film hiding from
the rest of the crew when he owns the ship? When he does reveal himself why is no-one surprised or
even interested particularly as his hologram told everyone he was dead?
- Why does no-one even bat an eyelid
when Moomin staggers half-naked and bloody into the room where they’re
suiting up Weyland? Are
half-naked women covered in blood staggering around his personal quarters
a frequent occurrence? Also,
Moomin twatted at least one of those crew members (Kate Dickie) over the head just a couple of
scenes earlier. Not only does
she not appear to be suffering from any form of concussion, she doesn’t
mention this to Moomin or even call her a bitch. She just suits up and goes off to explore the alien
spaceship with her…
- Why is no-one remotely interested in the
giant Moomin/alien hybrid squid baby that Moomin’s just abandoned to grow to
gargantuan proportions in an unfeasibly short amount of time in the
medical bay? No-one on the
space ship full of scientists thinks: “Bugger me. A completely new species. Maybe I should have a quick peek at that?” or how about
“Maybe we should get that alien thingy out of the medical bay? You know, just in case we survive
the next half hour and need some plasters or something?”
- Why, when his ship is destroyed, does
the alien, who’s so intent on destroying Earth that he takes off almost
immediately after waking up, not just head to the other ship parked nearby
rather than stop to play cat-and-mouse with a woman who represents no threat
to him and has no way of stopping him from taking off?
- At the end of the film, instead of
trying to return to Earth, Moomin and David board an alien ship and set
course for the alien homeworld.
Sure, we’ll accept that his long years of isolation have allowed
him to learn the alien language but how does David manage to pilot the
alien ship? For starters you
appear to need to be able to play the flute to start the engine? How does David do that
exactly? He’s been reduced to
a head in a bowling bag. Are
we supposed to believe that Moomin’s able to just hook him up to the alien
ship’s computer with some sort of USB cable? That’s as dumb as when they hook Jeff Goldblum’s laptop
up to the alien mothership in Independence Day.
- And now for the big one - the single
dumbest thing about Prometheus.
At the end of the film, when Moomin and David fly off to the alien
homeworld; how long is the journey going to be? What is she going to eat and drink? Can humans eat alien food? The ship’s been lying dormant for
2000 years; do alien supplies keep that long? Sure she could sleep in the alien hibernation pod but
can alien hibernation pods be calibrated for humans?
Ultimately,
who cares? If you’ve seen the film
you’ve probably already asked yourself these questions and, if you liked the
film, right now you’re sitting, rocking back and forth with your eyes closed
and your fingers in your ears braying: “I’m not listening…”
Only
one thing is certain - In space, no-one can hear you say: “Doh!”
David Watson
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