Alien: A Pioneering Masterpiece of Cinema

In space, no one can hear you scream. However, the same cannot be said for the theater, so be braver than audiences from 1979, who not only screamed but even threw up in the aisles and fled the theater when Ridley Scott's sci-fi horror classic Alien was first unleashed upon the world, not that I entirely blame them. Alien is a scary movie. It's a very scary movie, the type that thrills, chills, and occasionally repulses. Of course, a decent portion of it looks dated by today's standards, but its scares still pack a surprising punch, its legacy is remarkable, and its impact on cinema undeniable. The story of Ellen Ripley, the doomed crew of the space tug Nostromo, and their struggle to survive a murderous alien creature has spawned countless imitators and piqued both the fascination and morbid curiosity of moviegoers and critics alike for decades, and watching it even today, it's easy to see why.

The utilitarian yet fantastical production design of the Nostromo is revolutionary and marvelously detailed, up there with and even exceeding the classic Star Wars movies. The ship is gross, grimy, and grotesquely mechanical, a deathly quiet Frankenstein's Monster of off-white science fiction workspaces and dark, grungy repair corridors, so well-realized and skillfully crafted that it's as if you can almost feel the cold, hard steel of the bulkheads, feel the hot steam leaking from the vents. And if the visual landscape is thorough, the soundscape is disturbingly absent. Alien is a nerve-shreddingly quiet and stripped-back movie, one that scares you less with what you see and hear and more with what you don't. It forces you to use your imagination to consider every morbid possibility your demented mind can come up with, seamlessly blending both science fiction and horror. I understand that the two genres had been mixed before this film came along (see The Terror From Beyond Space), but I completely credit Alien with taking the subgenre places it had never gone before, establishing it as a cinematic mainstay.

The slow-burn intrigue of Alien is truly great. It leaks information at just the right speed to keep you on edge, methodically placing cards on the table and threatening with an ominous certainty to eventually overturn the table itself. At one point, this movie briefly makes matters look more optimistic for our characters before making them oh-so-horribly worse in ways nothing short of some of the most shocking I've ever seen via an altogether seamless yet incredibly messy twist. Alien takes its merry time to let its story unfold, allowing its characters to learn more and more about the malevolent creature hunting them, creating a non-stop and methodical momentum as well as a really terrifying feeling of abject helplessness the more we learn about how deadly the creature really is. I can't imagine watching this movie for the first time in 1979 with zero knowledge of it, not even a legacy to give you an idea of what's coming. Alien is entirely unpredictable and twist-laden without losing a bit of narrative integrity, each scene sturdily building upon and then twisting what came before perfectly.

As for the Xenomorph, the title creature of the film, I love how little of the alien we actually see. It poses a threat hardly ever seen but always keenly felt. It feels as though the murderous creature is lurking behind every corner and in every dark air shaft because we're shown that this is exactly what it's capable of doing. When combined with a deadly-detailed atmosphere and a cast of well-rounded characters with actual personalities, a monster as monstrous as this one is just the blood-red cherry on top of what is one of the greatest - if not the single greatest - horror movies ever made.

Alien has stood the test of time for approaching 46 years now, and I don't see its legacy fading or diminishing any time soon. It's a masterclass in how to craft a stripped-down and economic story inhabited by wonderfully realized and completely three-dimensional characters, but perhaps even more valuable is its keen grasp of the world they inhabit and the unique dangers said world poses. The Nostromo is nothing short of an absolute health hazard with its futuristically grimy corridors, ominously shadowy rooms, and endless supply of hiding places for an insatiably violent creature, as horrifying and unique a haunted house as has ever been housing as horrifying and unique a mythical monster as man has ever conceived of. All of this adds up to create a movie that I absolutely see as essential viewing, an experience completely unlike any other.

This is Daniel Johansen, sole writer of the Tin Shack Film Institute, signing off.

Alien - 10/10

Psalm 74:12-17