For Rain, life on Jackson’s Star Mining Colony could be worse—but it’s hard to imagine how.
Rain’s parents are dead. Not surprising, given that the colony is plagued by lethal disease, harrowing workplace conditions and an ever-present soot that every miner habitually inhales. The colony itself is a grim wasteland filled with dirty machinery, dirty streets dirty people. Rain has never seen a tree. A flower. Not even a single sunrise.
Rain was all set to leave this rock. She’d put in her 12,000 hours of work—a clock she must’ve first punched just after she was old enough to tie her shoes. But it seems that Weyland-Yutani, the megacorporation that enslaves—er, employs—her has just reset its labor requirements. Rain’ll have to put in another 12,000 hours before she’s free from her contract. Tough luck, that.
Her only real solace is her “brother,” Andy (in reality, a synthetic human that Rain’s dad salvaged from the scrap heap and patched up as best as he could). Her dad gave Andy with just one directive: Do what’s best for Rain. And Andy has indeed done his best. But his spotty programming and synthetic status makes him the weaker sibling. Rather than protecting Rain from danger, it’s often Rain who must protect Andy.
Rain’s friends all have the same problems: no parents, no future, not even an Andy to keep them company. But now, they’ve been presented with a bold, terrifying opportunity: A derelict space station hovers above the colony, apparently deserted but still teeming with valuable tech.
Rain and her friends have access to a tiny mining hauler. If they can take that hauler to the station, they can strip it of its cryogenic equipment and fuel. If they have that, they can install it on their craft, sink into a nine-year sleep and make their way to a distant planet, far from the clutches of Weyland-Yutani.
Sure, it’s illegal. And yeah, it’s plenty dangerous—especially since the station is poised to crash into the planet’s dense rings in 36 hours. But with lives so bleak, they figure any risk they take to start anew is worth it.
Or is it?
That station isn’t as deserted as they think.
The inhuman conditions we see on the colony have made many of its workers a little less-than-human—at least emotionally and spiritually—themselves. And perhaps it’s telling that the nicest, gentlest “person” we see is the synthetic Andy.
As long as Andy’s endowed with his prime directive (“do what’s best for Rain”), he’s sweet and sacrificial. He peppers Rain with a steady stream of dad jokes, hoping to make her smile. He treats her with gentle sensitivity. And when he learns that the success of Rain’s escape from the colony will require that he be left behind, Andy’s willing to make that sacrifice, even though it’s obviously a painful decision.
Rain responds in kind. She treats Andy far kindlier than most of her peers (who largely ignore or abuse him). She protects him when she can.
And when things really go downhill, Rain and Andy risk their lives (synthetic though one of those lives may be) for each other.
Navarro, the mining hauler’s pilot, clutches a ring and seems to say a prayer before their flight to the space station.
We hear a reference to Prometheus (a titan from Greek mythology and a callback to the 2012 Alien film Prometheus). This film also references Remus and Romulus, the demi-gods from Roman mythology who allegedly founded Rome.
We’re told that humankind must be genetically improved—and by human hand: “We simply cannot wait for evolution anymore.”
On the colony, Rain suffers a bunch of lewd catcalls, with at least one offering to show her “a good time.” She seems to have a kinda-sorta love interest in a guy named Tyler, though their relationship seems to be either at its awkward-beginning stages or weary-later stages.
Tyler’s sister (and Rain’s best friend), Kay, confesses that she’s pregnant. When Kay asks about the father, Kay simply says that it was just some guy (whom she describes with a crass profanity).
The creatures in the Alien movies were designed/inspired by Swiss artist H.R. Giger, whose work incorporates veiled-but-graphic sexual imagery. The xenomorph (as Giger’s alien creatures are called) comes with plenty of bits designed to remind us of sexual organs, and a cocoon in which a xenomorph is growing looks an awful lot like a female reproductive organ.
The xenomorphs’ death-sex vibe (discussed above) make the violence we see in the Alien movies even more jarring. It’s meant to feel (perhaps subconsciously) like more than just a lethal struggle for supremacy: it takes on the horrific hint of sexual assault. (Maybe it’s telling that almost all the movies feature female protagonists.)
But even setting aside those elements, we’ve got plenty to worry about here. I hate to write this, for fear it could be used to draw people to the movie … but Romulus just might be the most grotesque Alien movie yet.
We see scads of “face-huggers” (spider-like aliens that cover their victims’ face, insert a huge proboscis down the throat and, essentially, plant an alien embryo inside the victim’s chest). They try to latch onto several people, and they succeed in one case, wrapping a tail around the victim’s neck. And naturally, when someone tries to remove the face-hugger, the creature begins choking its human host.
That’s just the beginning of the trouble, though. Inevitably, the embryo bursts from the victim’s chest in a spray of blood and quickly skedaddles, eager to grow to a truly terrifying size.
We should make note of two of the xenomorph’s best-known properties: the creature’s jaw-within-a-jaw and its acid blood. Both find time in the spotlight here. One victim is quickly killed by the jaw while acid eats at another, drop by drop. (Some of the acid dissolves a couple of his fingers down to the bone.) Spiky tails and talons do some bloody work here, too.
The space station features evidence of the aliens’ earlier bloody work. Corpses litter certain scenes, often missing their lower halves. One man hangs in a room, the back of his skull eaten away. A portion of the station features several corpses (and one still-living unfortunate soul) attached to the creatures’ organic hive walls.
Synthetic humans “bleed” white fluid, and bleed they do. One synth has been torn in two: The torso’s lower half features loads of rope-like synthetic organs and gore, and his face is marred by that white fluid.
Aliens, naturally, die by the bushel. We learn that scientists aboard the space station were conducting some pretty disturbing experiments to improve Earth-born life. We see film footage of a rat in the throes of violent change. The huge, misshapen corpse of an animal—perhaps that same rat—is later seen.
A bed is spattered with blood. Characters fall from some extreme heights. Gravity generators cause their share of bumps and bruises as they turn off and on. Spacecraft crash and occasionally explode.
A painting aboard the space station depicts a baby trying to suckle from the breast of a corpse—presumably the baby’s mother—and from the brief glimpse we get, it looks as if the child is trying to devour the woman’s breast.
That painting proves to be a bit of foreshadowing.
[Spoiler Warning] As mentioned, the Alien movies have always come with a disturbing undercurrent of sexual violence. But this film finds another taboo to explore: birth and motherhood. A character gives birth to a monstrous alien-human hybrid; the creature makes its appearance in a spray of blood and a shower of screams. The mother survives, but moments later, her child—now fully grown—seeks nourishment. Without giving too much away, the resulting interaction (much of which is only suggested, not seen) feels like a horrifying mashup of nursing and cannibalism, and it leads to the mother’s death.
Nearly 40 f-words and about 10 s-words. We also hear “a–,” “b—ch,” “b—tard” and several obscene words referencing various anatomical parts. God’s and Jesus’ names are each abused twice.
A couple of characters smoke; whether it’s tobacco or marijuana or some other substance can’t be definitively nailed down.
A woman vomits. One of the characters relentlessly bullies Andy. And if it wasn’t obvious already, Weyland-Yutani is a truly horrific place to work.
The Alien franchise has had a long and uneven history. The original film was an unabashed horror flick: “In space, no one can hear you scream,” ran the movie’s tagline. But while its sequels and side projects have all retained some of that Alien DNA (if you will), some pushed further into other genres. Aliens was as much an action romp as horrorfest. Prometheus and Alien: Covenant were both plenty gross but dipped their xenomorph toes into sci-fi speculation.
Alien: Romulus marks a return to its roots while staying true to the sometimes-muddy Alien canon. This is a straight-up horror flick, full stop. And while it can’t equal the original’s shock and awe, it tries to make up for that in its pure, unrelenting carnage.
The movie has more going for it, of course. We do care about Rain and Andy, and the film does encourage some thought as it dashes down the foreboding corridors of its space station. The film uses Remus and Romulus—the legendary twins of Roman mythology—as an in-the-know reference to point to the movie’s larger themes. It is said that Romulus, after all, killed his brother, setting Rome on its bloody, historical path. The film suggests that humans and aliens may be locked in a similar contest of sorts—one where only the fittest, and most ruthless, will survive.
So perhaps it’s fitting that Alien: Romulus, like its xenomorphs, shows no mercy. It has some strong moments and memorable scenes. But its ruthless, late-stage pace and preening preoccupation with gore can leave viewers less exhilarated and more exhausted—and, ultimately, a bit numb to it all.
Alien: Romulus turns some of its characters into bloodied pulps—and it just might make some viewers feel about the same.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
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