People always ask me about films.
This, despite knowing that part of my academic job is learning and teaching how to rip films apart. Not necessarily in a negative way, but in a critical way that examines how the films are put together. This is a core component of know how to make a film. Also, people ask me what I think about films even knowing what a cynical bastard I am.
So, you know, if you ask me about a film, fair warning: I'll tell you what I think. Perhaps I overthink it, but you asked. If you'd rather not have an actual answer, then just asked whether I liked a film, don't ask me what I think about a film. See, I spend the head time that most people devote to Roth IRAs, stocks, and performance reviews considering movies, so you're going to often get a detailed answer if you ask.
Prometheus is a case in point. LOTS of people asked me about Prometheus and I kind of dodged an answer because frankly, I don't want to spoil your enjoyment of the film. However, a bunch of people know my admiration for the original Alien, my fondness for Sci-Fi in general, and my peripatetic admiration for Ridley Scott. So, they asked.
Let me first say, there is much that is wonderful about this film: the beautiful visual extravagance of the opening 3D images and the imagining of the alabaster aliens in general was stunning, there were some wonderful performances from Charlize Theron and Michael Fassbender, and the sheer optimism that we will ever be able to build a ship that can travel like Prometheus was refreshing.
It is however, despite all talk of sequels, a disappointing story.
People have argued with me over this, but I bet I can ask you five questions about Prometheus that will change your view of the film. If you don't want your view changed, then stop reading now.
1. What kind of "doctor" is Elizabeth Shaw? Many are tempted to say archeologist, but at various points in the film she discourses on astrophysics, medicine, biology, sociology and more. The real answer to this question is that she's a doctor of exposition -- a convenient mouthpiece to explain whatever plot point needs explaining at a given moment.
2. If you have hovering, wireless, 3d mapping robots, why wouldn't you toss those into the big, dark, dangerous alien ship BEFORE you actually go in yourself? It may be the future, but apparently no one has ever played a video game.
3. Why are the archeologists forever rushing blindly into new discoveries without any remote hint of site protocol? Moreover, why are the touching everything, including the moving black goo?
4. I can't imagine ever designing my own trillion-dollar spaceship, but even if you were, would you think it smart to make your quarters look like a spa? I get the Weyland's are rich, but why must they be stupid as well?
5. Does anyone really believe you can give yourself an auto-surgical cesarian, then just hop up off the table and run around like an action hero? Talk to a woman who's actually had a c-section, or do some basic anatomical research: cut the abs and you're doing no moving for a while. Drugs strong enough to kill the pain will also knock you out. I honestly thought this was going to be a dream sequence it was so outrageous and, when it wasn't, I couldn't seriously stay engaged in the movie.
These are really only the top of the heap. I could keep asking these questions on and on and that, to me, is the sign of a flawed film.
Now, you asked me what I thought, so what I really think is I'm really no longer too excited about the rumored BaldeRunner sequel.
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