Prometheus & Contemporary Science Fiction

When Ridley Scott debuted Alien in 1979, he did so in the waning period of what is widely regarded as a golden age of Hollywood films. The 70's had produced films such as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Chinatown and Bang the Drum Slowly, films that, while financially successful, were ultimately valued for their rich characterization and thoughtful examination of the human condition. Alien, despite its setting light years from Earth, shared the best humanist qualities with its earthbound predecessors by portraying compelling characters struggling to survive in a capitalist society. The 70's also sowed the seeds of this period's demise with the release of a number of unprecedented blockbusters, most notably Star Wars. For studios, Lucas' film served as a proof-of-concept for a new business model in which studios replaced aesthetic concerns with the cynical calculations of commodification. This new business model launched the era of the blockbuster, a period that shows no sign of abating.

Unfortunately, Ridley Scott's return to the science-fiction genre with Prometheus has provided another example of blockbuster filmmaking. Despite my notorious association with the film, it gives me no joy to note the film's failings. Indeed, nothing would have made me happier than to have left the theater rapt in some new mystery, swept along by a moving story. However, Prometheus only offers spectacle instead of suspense, caricatures rather than characters, artifice instead of art. Many (especially John Vick) have cited Prometheus' shortcomings, and I may point out a few, too. For now, though, I'd like to focus on one aspect of Prometheus' problems that seems to be an ongoing and unfortunate trend in cinematic science fiction.

Many producers of cinematic science fiction seem to conflate a story's having elements of scientific significance with the story itself being compelling or dramatic. That seems to be Prometheus' narrative strategy, suddenly making the latest Alien film into a human-origins tale. There are many other examples: the finale of Star Trek: the Next Generation, Mission to Mars (which also featured a giant face carved into rock), and the finale of Battlestar Galactica which regrettably stumbled after four seasons of great writing. The strategy seems twofold—that the audience should care more because the subject of human evolution is directly, though distantly, tied to their own lives, and that invoking something scientifically significant lends an air of philosophical significance.

Of course, such a strategy abandons what is at the core of good narrative writing—creating characters that engage the audience as deeply as possible. Consider a few great moments in cinematic history. The fact that “rosebud” referred to Charles Foster Kane's boyhood sled does not reflect some axiom of philosophy. The line—Forget it, Jake. It's Chinatown.—doesn't illuminate humanity's biological evolution. And even Roy Batty's waxing on about c-beams glittering off the shoulder of Orion offers no imaginative insight into the science that describes our existence. What's significant and powerful about those scenes is that the audiences witnessed something significant and powerful to the characters, characters they're invested in.

In the science fiction genre, 2001: A Space Odyssey still casts a long, monolithic shadow, largely due to the confluence of forces that produced it. While its characters are well drawn and have their own arcs, 2001 is a film of ideas exploring past, present and future human evolution, and in emphasizing this exploration over its characters, 2001 is the exception that proves the rule on character-driven stories. This atypical treatment worked, though, solely because it was executed by Stanley Kubrick, unquestionably one of cinema's greatest (in my opinion, the greatest) auteurs. A product of high concept in a master's hands, 2001 debuted at a time when most science fiction films had merely been B movies with rubber costumes and bad special effects. The film is a singular work of art that arrived when the public (despite its initial shock) was primed to receive it.

As noted, many filmmakers have tried to invoke 2001's greatness by handling its subject of human evolution. But art is not subject matter; it is treatment. Modern cinematic history is strewn with wrecks of science-fiction films whose treatments were not equal to their pretenses. If a filmmaker feels they must tackle the subject of evolution, or some other ponderous science, they must approach the subject as if for first time. Repetition is the death of art. (See Adaptation for an example of approaching the subject of evolution as if for the first time.)

What's particularly disappointing about Prometheus is that no filmmaker had seemed more cognizant of those hazards than Ridley Scott. By avoiding them, he produced his own truly great science fiction films, worthy peers of 2001. But he did so by inverting Kubrick's strategy. Rather than taking a high concept, Scott produced with Alien “a B movie with an A movie treatment.” The same is true for Blade Runner which is a hardboiled detective story. What is at the core of this A-movie treatment? Plausible, genuine characters who brought audiences into the drama Scott directed.

When credibly rendered, science fiction films portray characters' confronting the realities of new science and technology. Today, technology has driven us to the cusp of major evolutionary changes to our natural environment, societies and consciousness. For that reason, the relevance of science fiction has never been greater, and that will only increase. Like the ancient myths that preceded it, cinema at its best provides society a way to make sense of its world. But if future science fiction films are to be anything more than visually stimulating distractions, they must emphasize the characters and their humanity. It is simply enough to dramatize the challenges before characters like Ripley or Deckard without invoking other pretenses. We are, after all, only humans trying to find our way in a world ever more technically challenging and corporately ruled.