I'm not sure where "Dark Phoenix" fits into the X-Men film franchise. Don't care. I'm cool with the whole, alternate-reality, time-tripping zeal. It makes the series more fascinating, brooding, irreverent, funny, exciting...you name it. It's anything goes and so far, it works.
Still, in the heart of the shuffling, there's a faithful standard stays: One knows what one's getting, no matter the scenario, the characters involved, who's portraying them or what sector they populate.
Case in point: "Dark Phoenix", written/directed by "X-Men" veteran, Simon Kinberg. It takes place in a parallel 1992 (initiated by a woeful '75 prologue), where the telekinetic Jean Grey (Sophie "Game of Thrones" Turner) figures deeper into the ranks of Dr. Charles Xavier (James McAvoy)'s superheroic school. There's no reason to doubt young Grey's exceptional abilities (she sure does shine in that big, space-shuttle sequence), but unlike what's served in other X-Men movies ("Last Stand" above all), this Grey teeters on villainy.
The possibility causes concern for Xavier, who's plagued by student-body dissent, and Erik Lensheer/Magneto (Michael Fassbender), who's still trying to find his way. Per indignant impulse, Grey can lift folks into the air, toss 'em around, kill 'em if she's not careful...or if she so chooses. And what the hell is she turning into? If it's not something virtuous (the idea being that bad might turn into good), what then will the X-Men (and the world...hell, the universe) do?
Dark Phoenix's rise is emotional and engrossing, and therefore, pure "X-Men". By tradition, we know Grey isn't meant to be a Brightburn, but when it comes to parallel planes, anything's possible. From this, the plot's tension builds along with its central vixen: a developmental hallmark of this series that clicks every alternating (ha, ha) time.
Despite reports of reshoots by an (at this time) unnamed director, a large lump of credit must go to Kinberg for his knack of blending thrills with characterization. There's a quiet, old-school empathy to his live-action panels which pile-it-on hotshots could learn from, if they'd only take the friggin time. (Fans should be more respectful, too, for the stuff of "Dark Phoenix" is the real, adapted deal.)
It also helps to have the old, supporting gang employed: Nicolas Hoult as the Beast; Jennifer Lawrence as Mystique; Tye Sheridan as Cyclops; Alexandra Shipp as Storm; Evan Peters as Quicksilver; Olivia Munn as Psychlocke; and Kodi Smit-McPhee as Nightcrawler. (Jennifer Chastian enters as Liliandra, the fair-haired, body-snatching devil on Grey's suffering shoulder.)
It's odd, though, not to see Hugh Jackman as Logan/Wolverine (in extended or even cameo form), but the general group more than uplifts this chapter's progression, presenting a family (even if split) tending to a member who's fallen on tough times. It's a matter of love and duty to get her back in gear: a situation to which most viewers will relate.
My only complaint: Mystique was cut way too short and while she lasted, remained (why, oh why?) clothed. Yeah, I know, she's not running about naked in the comics, and so... But damn it, I suspect this tactic (the brevity and concealment of it all) was installed more for appeasement than aesthetics. "Dark Phoenix" does lose a huge point for the evident, PC contrivance.
Otherwise, the movie holds its own with the competition (on the screen or page) and does a great job adding to the "X-Men" film series' longevity: something it's earned and damn well deserves.
I kept quiet (somewhat) about it, fearing I might spoil the surprise when I assessed Ridley Scott's "Alien: Covenant" back in May. I like the movie, but what can I say? There's an element so subtle but once revealed, so stark, that with the film available for home viewing on Aug 15, I felt the urge to re-elaborate upon it.
"Covenant" (in a reflective nutshell) is a retelling of Lucifer's leap into destructive autonomy, but redesigned in such a way to blend seamlessly into a franchise best characterized by its unsettling science fiction. The soft-spoken David, Michael Fassbender's android, whom we met in Scott's "Prometheus", has gone mad: the result of an apparent and well meaning repair. As we soon learn, David's simmering arrogance compels him to rebel against the breed that made him, just as the Devil did against God.
Indeed, "Covenant" is enriched with more than a few Lucifer nods. Some surface when David unveils his Frankenstein derivatives to his "twin", Walter, proving the refurbished replicant a full-fledged "Modern Prometheus". We come to know that David's Xenomorphs--those sleek, black beauties that Scott, Dan O'Bannon, Ron Shusett and H.R. Giger conceived so many decades ago--are the monsters, the demons, the fabricated life that will jut a symbolic middle finger in the eye of any magnanimous lord. Oh, what contorted terrors our conniving, charismatic, synthetic Satan has sprung upon favored human kind, not only externally, but (with chest-bursting seeds implanted) internally. We won't be annihilated merely by the disciples of this neo-Nick, but we'll hatch his precious beasts, to boot.
Perhaps when you (re)watch "Covenant", my view of David will become as strong an obsession for you. And in case you hold any qualms about latching on, please do keep in mind that obsessions can prove most rewarding, especially when they catapult a work of art onto a whole new level of meaning. "Covenant" deserves that second chance, that second wind, even if the damn Devil does not.
Ridley Scott’s “Prometheus” was a dream come true for those in the long-term know: those of us, that is, who were informed of the prospect in ’79 when the likes of Famous
Monsters of Filmland reported the director's plans for a prequel. That promised tale of the Engineer/"space-jockey" race, and how its members met their fate, seemed an intriguing one, but its delay long exceeded expectancy. The Engineers' cause, when finally revealed, startled many with its Christian references.
“Alien: Covenant”, as the “Prometheus” sequel has come to be known, picks up on its predecessor's inspiring and disturbing concepts. However, the story (by Michael Green; Dante Harper; John Logan; and Jack Paglen) concentrates more on rampaging H.R. Geiger offspring than theological essay: a tactic evidently used to appease those fans disenchanted by the previous film's spirituality. That's not to say "Covenant" is shallow, for it rehashes "Prometheus'" themes in its own, disquieting way, while still supplying multiple monsters.
Noomi Rapace's Elizabeth Shaw is but a shadow here, leaving Michael Fassbender's refurbished, Peter O'Toole-ish David to interact with the Weyland-Yutani colonists, who come upon a world that could be Paradise's equivalent.
Fassbender also surfaces as David's charismatic, Covenant "clone", Walter, but it's David who knows what's impacted the planet: an experimental unleashing of a black substance the Engineers concocted, something that's triggered a peculiar pact or merger (a covenant, if one will) with the landscape.
The crew includes (in addition to Walter and the nearly two thousand who remain hibernated) Captain Jake Branson (James Franco, in cameo); his wife Daniels/"Dany" (Katherine Waterston), a terraforming officer and this chapter's roundabout Ripley; Sergeant Lope (Demian Bichir), the security head; Sergeant Hallet (Nathaniel Dean), her husband; Christopher Oram (Billy Crudup), a pious, accidental leader; Karen (Carmen Ejogo), his biologist spouse; Upworth (Callie Hernandez), the medic; Tennessee (Danny McBride), the prime pilot; and Faris (Amy Seimetz), his co-pilot wife. They're good people, interesting and well meaning, but have entered the wrong place at the wrong time, due to their shared ambition.
Once the obligatory introductions are made and the androids form a touching, though odd bond, the monsters position themselves for attack (in their various, progressing shapes, of course), but why did the Engineers set forth these horrid things? "Prometheus" proposed the question, but does "Covenant" answer it?
That's up for debate, for the interludes are sometimes more ambiguous than clear. Nevertheless, Scott's film alludes to the idea that some of the Engineers wished to punish the human race for harming one of their own, but was this victim a surrogate Christ--or the Christ--as Scott has mentioned in his "Prometheus" interviews? It appears another chapter is required to substantiate this theory. (Scott has gone on record, stating that "Covenant" is his way of returning to the series' traditional, terrifying roots, so perhaps the once intended religious extrapolation will be stripped for the sake of another entry.)
At least on an atmospheric level, the current film matches its predecessor, thanks to cinematographer Dariusz Wolski, who creates a visual revitalization of Mario Bava's "Planet of the Vampires"/"Demon Planet", with smoky blues and hazy grays to represent the egg-laden danger. The demons now look more freakish and frightening than before, coming and going among the weird pigments and baroque architecture.
One harrowing scene depicts a traditional Xenomorph atop a Covenant shuttle, grasping it like some elongated gremlin, in hopes of getting inside. The scene's visual composition is raw and unsettling because on an subconscious level, we know this sleek, lethal thing could very well have sprung from any of us, if only the vicious variables had allowed.
Writers Dan O'Bannon and Ron Shusett hatched the latter concept for the '79 film, along with some rape implications and the jarring effects that such physical violation brings. Given the chance, there's no telling how far such a mad cycle could go, but then we've already gotten a hardy hint via James Cameron's "Aliens".
Unlike the tough-as-nails Ripley, Daniels projects a caring, cautious side, which shines especially in her relationship with Walter. When push comes to shove, though, her fight for survival consumes any cordiality. In fact, most folks would sooner resign than battle the daunting circumstances she and her crew mates face.
Though the Xenomorphs are outwardly bestial, their symbolic seeds were planted with lofty care in "Prometheus". In fact, Guy Pearce's Peter Weyland (who set forth much of that film's conflict) speculates on humanity's content in "Covenant'"s flashback prologue, but even without this handy trigger, we'd still find ourselves pondering who and what we are.
The Engineers created humanity, but our inherent, recurring penchant for evil defiled that gracious gesture. The saga's serpents are simply our inner devils unleashed, hugging our faces and chest-bursting forth to punish us for our sins, just as Hyde dared to overcome Jekyll or Shelley's Monster dared shackle Frankenstein. If life was the Engineers' gift to us, then the Xenomorphs are our curse.
When the Covenant crew meets its fate, we realize there's no escaping our harbored evil. Once that ugliness is revealed, we are, in essence, preying upon ourselves: a shocking notion, but one any sinner should consider. Primal rage has never been alien to the human race, but rather something that's nurtured, encouraged, and as long as we live and breathe, we'll suffer its consequences. "Covenant" knows this, conveys this, and because of this, we come to learn that humans and their so-called aliens are (for better or worse) one and the same.
