Film Review: Alien (1979)

Director: Ridley Scott

Screenwriter: Dan O’Bannon
Cinematography: Derek Vanlint
Score: Jerry Goldsmith
Rating: 4.5/5

“In space no one can hear you scream.”

This is the tagline that accompanied the marketing campaign for what would become one of the most influential and enduring sci-fi horror films of all time. Directed by the emerging Ridley Scott in his second feature film outing, Alien not only made its mark as a genre-defining film in its own right, but also served as a lesson in pacing and patience on both sides of the camera. “Pacing” is the magic word here, with Scott and his team taking a slow-burn approach coupled with suggestive presence and an eerie visual and sonic atmosphere.

Pacing and Atmosphere

The pacing is evident from the very first frame, beginning with its signature title sequence accompanied by a chilling atmospheric score by Jerry Goldsmith. I personally detected the Star Wars influence in the spacecraft’s passing scenes. It’s interesting to note, in this regard, that when Star Wars became the hit it was in 1977, sci-fi became a genre of great interest to 20th Century Fox. And with Alien being the only “spaceship script” available to them, the rest was history. The production design of the ship, christened Nostromo, also seemed to draw a similar influence, employing the talents of concept artists Ron Cobb and Chris Foss for these settings. Their work is fantastically translated to the screen, creating a very artificial working environment like sailors living and working on board a submarine.

In addition, lighting plays a crucial part in how Alien progresses through its plot. The first tracking shots through the corridors of the Nostromo have a dark-against-light visualization, which seems to add to its foreboding of menace. Another fantastic use of lighting is the scene where John Hurt’s character, Kane, explores a collection alien eggs submerged beneath a blue mist-like effect – achieved by the use of a laser projector light – which emphasizes Alien‘s other-worldly setting. There are a couple of scenes where the lighting may be a bit too dark, particularly when the ill-fated Dallas is navigating the ship’s air ducts; and while it adds to the chilling atmosphere, I did tend to miss some crucial details of the production design in the process.

Kane (portrayed by John Hurt) investigating the alien eggs under the blue light membrane.

Casting and Story

Of course, a good film is nothing without its cast. Employing a small ensemble, which adds to the film’s claustrophobic feel, Scott has each of the actors making their respective roles their own while maintaining the symbolism they seem to bring to the story. Tom Skerrit brings a calm but unquestioningly authorative demeanor to the role of ship’s captain Dallas, with a then-unknown Sigourney Weaver taking on what would become her signature character, Ellen Ripley, with a well-balanced combination of toughness and vulnerability. Yaphet Kotto’s Parker was a highlight for me, embodying the gruff nine-to-five everyman simply looking to go to work and get paid, along with co-star Harry Dean Standton’s Brett. As the film comes to embody its horror, Veronica Cartwright comes to symbolize that fear and panic through her character, Lambert. The rest of the cast is rounded off by John Hurt’s Kane, symbolizing our curiosity of the unknown and its deadly consequences, and Ian Holm’s Ash, a role that was only added later by additional screenwriters David Giler and Walter Hill.

During the course of the film, we become attached to each of these characters by identifying with them not as adventurers or heroes, but as average Joes and Janes trying to earn a living. An important production note here is the importance Scott saw in capturing spontaneous moments among the cast, be it banter or tension, by filming their rehearsals. I felt once or twice that the banter did tend to run away from itself, but this was generally short-lived.

The story itself may be a familiar monster-in-space trope, but thanks to a sharp screenplay by Dan O’Bannon, David Giler and Walter Hill, Alien is anything but conventional, driven by solid performances – particularly Weaver and Kotto – that boost the script’s authenticity from its gradual beginning to its over-too-soon climax. One of the greatest appeals of Alien‘s screenplay is how the entire story, its relatable characters and its isolated setting are all held together by the common thread of an unnamed corporation to which our characters are bound that prioritizes company profits over human lives, a trait represented within the cast by Ian Holm’s nihilistic Ash. As far as elements of horror go, this is an important contribution to the story in that it roots the plot in a realistic scenario that we can all identify with in some form.
 An interesting production note in this regard is the tension that developed between O’Bannon and fellow story writer Ron Shusett when Giler and Hill were brought aboard as additional screenwriters. Their introduction and revelation of Ash as an antagonistic android was later described by Shusett as one of the film’s best moments, while O’Bannon considered it an irrelevant subplot. O’Bannon ended up getting sole credit for the script, even though Giler and Hill’s version ended up being the one that was shot, in order to stay in line with WGA (Writers’ Guild of America) regulations.
 One story element I struggled to completely reconcile was the sudden appearance of the crew’s Shorthair cat, Jones. While I understand its use in setting up the crew against the creature’s final form, I couldn’t help but feel that while we were becoming attached to the human characters, the film’s feline star was reduced to a mere McGuffin of sorts, thus robbing us of the opportunity of developing the same attachment. But maybe that’s just me. Other than that, the benefit of Jonesy’s appearance is in adding to the creature’s suggested presence as well as its intelligence (in reference to a scene where the creature ignores the cat and pursues Ripley, seeing humans as more of a threat to its existence than their feline companion).

The cast of Alien (1979) from left: Yaphet Kotto (Parker), Sigourney Weaver (Ripley) holding one of the cats playing Jones, Tom Skerrit (Dallas), Veronica Cartwright (Lambert), John Hurt (Kane), Ian Holm (Ash), Harry Dean Standton (Brett)

Sound, Music and Editing

Returning to atmosphere, I have to give credit to the sound and music department. The sound design team of Derrick Leather, Jim Shields, and Bill Rowe created a sonic pallet of blips, rumbles, scratches, growls and hisses that fuel our fear and sense of isolation, while drawing us into Alien’s non-human premise. Standout moments include the exploration of the alien eggs, the Nostromo’s on-board computer, “Mother”, and Ripley initiating the ship’s self-destruct protocol. Coupled with teeth-edging sound design is Jerry Goldsmith’s magnificently eerie score. One of my favourite musical moments accompanies the Nostromo’s shuttle making its way down to the Alien’s planetoid. Goldsmith’s use of low-frequency melodies and unpredictable chord progressions simultaneously evoke wonder and impending dread. The alien’s appearances are accompanied by a combination of weird and wonderful instruments such as a serpent, a didgeridoo and even a conch shell.

I’d like to take a moment to also acknowledge how Goldsmith’s score was heavily cut, moved around and even replaced during the course of the editing process. As the score was produced and recorded, Scott and the film’s editor Terry Rawlings (in his first major outing) began to treat it more like stock music, placing each cue where they felt suited the scenes, usually contrary to what Goldsmith intended. Many attribute this to Rawlings and Scott becoming attached to the temp tracks (reference tracks that accompany a rough first cut), with cues from Goldsmith’s previous score for Freud being among them (these were used in the “acid drip” scene and Dallas’ air-duct scene, the latter being a little more noticeable.) The replacement of Goldsmith’s end title cue with a section of Howard Hanson’s 2nd Symphony proved to be the final affront for the veteran composer. It comes as a sense of irony then that this beautiful unused cue is the only piece from the score that has ever been performed in concert halls. Having listened to Goldsmith’s full score album, including his rejected cues, I am personally of the opinion that they would have served the film better than the temp tracks that were ultimately chosen. Over the years, however, Rawlings has stood by his decisions and Goldsmith did eventually relax his animosity toward this experience in his later years. And while we will never see Alien with Goldsmith’s music as intended, we can take comfort in hearing how it was taken more seriously in Scott’s prequel films, more notably Alien: Covenant.

But not wanting to sound too antagonistic, I also wish to acknowledge Rawlings’ skill as an editor in keeping with the film’s pace and slow-burn feel. From staring into uncomfortably empty rooms to enduring the prolonged demise of Parker and Lambert, Rawlings definitely stepped up in his first major motion picture and created a visual framework that, coupled with sound and music, manages to draw the audience into the horrifying world of the film that is Alien.
 Jerry Goldsmith, the composer for Alien.

Production Design and Cinematography

However, the real star of this influential film is the production design of the titular alien and the world it occupies. Swiss artist and designer H.R. Giger not only managed to create a truly terrifying and other-worldly monster in the form of the now-famed Xenomorph, but he also gave the impression that its environment is also a living breathing organism in itself – a concept that has influenced many a filmmaker and video game designer then and now – in stark contrast to the more human settings. The segmented and elongated-finger design of the infamous “facehugger” and the metallic-like skeletal form of the Xenomorph are also represented in the walls of the alien ship explored by our characters. The monster is lent even more authenticity by the late 6.10ft Nigerian actor Bolaji Badejo, in his only film credit, filling in the alien suit due to his slenderly long limbs being convincing enough to fool anyone into thinking there was no one in there. Like 1976’s Jaws, the alien hardly appears on screen that often, however the power of suggestive presence more than makes up for that, be it a blip on a tracking device or screaming voices over the radio. Very few designers have immersed us in such an alien world as Giger has done, and his work has gone down in history as among the most iconic in his field – a credit well-deserved.
 While on the subject, I must single out the now-famous chest-bursting scene as an example of how directors can illicit genuine responses from their actors. While the cast knew that John Hurt’s ill-fated character, Kane, was going to have an alien burst out of his chest, they were unaware that a large amount of artificial blood was going to be used. The shocked reaction of the cast, particularly Cartwright, was real and, in my opinion, a stroke of genius on Scott’s part. A significant production note is that screenwriter Dan O’Bannon’s experience with Crohn’s Disease, characterized by – among other things – abdominal pain and swelling, served as an inspiration for this now-iconic scene.
And all of this would not be possible without the magic of Derek Vanlint’s cinematography. Be it the artificial confines of the Nostromo, the dark ribbed corridors of an alien spaceship, or the uncomfortably jumpy POV shots of a spacesuit camera, Vanlint succeeds in capturing the collective visions of Scott and Giger, while cementing the story in a large degree of realism and staying true to the film’s slow-burn approach.
The Alien (Xenomorph) designed by H.R. Giger.

Conclusion

If I can single out just one of Alien’s lasting legacies, it’s that it continues to be a yardstick against which slow-burn films are measured. Thanks to the special effects breakthrough of Star Wars and the power of suggestive presence exhibited in Jaws, Ridley Scott and his team were able to conjure a film that plays on its audience’s impatience – ultimately using it against them – and gives birth to an environment that would serve as a blueprint for many similar films that would follow. From Scott’s experimental direction, to Giger’s memorable creature designs (which, along with Carlo Rambaldi’s head mechanics, won the 1980 Oscar for Best Visual Effects), to Goldsmith’s atmospheric score, Alien stands out as a highly original film of its time, even though it’s not completely without its faults – a fact that stands tall above its subsequent sequel and prequel films.

Review by RICHARD CAMPBELL