My Corner

August 2024

I’m just going to say it: this is the Alien movie people have been waiting for. Not the deeply symbolic prequels or the chaotic leftovers of studio interference, but a sleek, terrifying, old-school haunted house in space. It’s not perfect. In fact, it’s far from revolutionary. But Fede Álvarez knows what he’s doing, and more importantly, he clearly respects the hell out of this franchise.

Set aboard a decaying space station orbiting a mining planet, Alien: Romulus wastes no time returning to the blue-collar terror that made the original so iconic. We meet Rain Carradine, played with quiet strength by Cailee Spaeny, who’s stuck working in a place with no sunlight and no exit strategy. Her only shot at freedom? A cryo-pod raid on an abandoned station above. She joins a small group of fellow workers and one synthetic companion, Andy (David Jonsson), who’s programmed to protect her. What follows is exactly what you’d expect and exactly what you want.

There’s something oddly comforting about how direct this story is. No bloated mythology or tangled timelines. Just six people, an abandoned ship, and a growing sense of dread. Facehuggers, chestbursters, and the ever-patient horror of silence around the corner. Álvarez and co-writer Rodo Sayagues know when to get out of the way and let the set design, the lighting, and the practical effects do their job. And they do their job beautifully.

The production design is some of the best I’ve seen in a modern sci-fi film. The station feels real. You can almost smell the sweat in the air. The split between the Romulus and Remus halves of the ship gives the story a natural progression, and Álvarez stages his scares with enough variation to keep the tension high without ever leaning into camp.

The performances help too. Spaeny plays Rain with a kind of weary competence. She’s not screaming at every noise, and she’s not superhuman either. She’s just trying to survive. David Jonsson is the real standout here. His synthetic, Andy, has the film’s most emotional arc, and Jonsson makes every beat count. It’s a layered performance that walks the line between warmth and eerie detachment in the best way.

Still, the movie trips over itself when it tries too hard to wink at fans. There are callbacks, references, and one particular connection to the original film that’s so jarringly rendered in CGI, it feels like someone accidentally cut in a scene from a video game. In a movie that otherwise values texture and tactility, that choice pulls you right out of the moment.

That said, Romulus understands the core appeal of this franchise: the feeling of being trapped in a nightmare that doesn’t stop growing. It’s not as innovative as Alien or as relentless as Aliens, but it knows what made those films work and doesn’t get distracted trying to reinvent the wheel. It’s scary. It’s stylish. And it sticks the landing more often than it stumbles.

Alien: Romulus might not elevate the franchise into something new, but it reminds you why it was great to begin with. And sometimes, especially in a franchise this battered, that’s enough.