Looper is Sooper

The year is 2044. It’s thirty years before the invention of time travel. A voiceover tells us that as soon as time travel is invented, it’s outlawed. Naturally, that won’t stop the most powerful crime syndicates from using it. So where’s Timecop when you need him?

Joe (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is a looper. Loopers are hitmen, but not the type who whack you in Scorsese movies. No, loopers simply wait in a field for a target to appear from the future. When the target arrives, hooded and bound, the looper shoots him. The only benefit of doing it this way is the body won’t be found in the future, when cops have access to higher tech forensic methods.

Before disposing of the body, the looper can find their payment strapped beneath the target’s clothes. The payment usually comes in the form of silver bars, which can be traded for their own timeline’s currency. Every looper knows full well that, one day, they’ll find gold bars strapped to a body instead of silver. The day that happens, the looper has just retired himself, which is so common it’s called “completing the loop.” When we see that Joe lives very well in a future where most live in squalor, we can see the attraction of the job despite its deadly retirement plan. He even admits that people in his line of work aren’t exactly forward-thinkers.

If you’ve seen the trailer, you already know that when Joe’s future self is sent back, young Joe fails to retire him. His future self is played by Bruce Willis, which is far less distracting than having Gordon-Levitt play dual roles—one in old-age makeup. You’re probably expecting a cat-and-mouse game to ensue. It’s actually more like a cat-mouse-dog-and-tiger game in which timelines tangle like pasta.

Does this sound convoluted to you? It’s a movie about time travel—of course it’s convoluted. Whereas so many of these movies try to make an unbelievable premise believable with endless technobabble, Looper leans into the problems of time travel with little explanation, which gives it room to do something fresh in the genre. Its interpretation of the rules leads to one of the most chilling death scenes ever filmed. The scene in question is truly the stuff of nightmares, but if you want to poke holes in it, you’re watching the wrong movie.

The X-Men Rises? (First Class review)

X-Men: First Class opens in a concentration camp. The boy who will one day become Magneto is separated from his parents by Nazis, which causes his mutant powers to unlock. Stricken with grief, he discovers he can bend metal with his mind. And you’re right: we have seen this exact scene before.

Around the same time, young Charles Xavier has learned he can read minds. He demonstrates the ability when he discovers a young and homeless Mystique rummaging in his kitchen. I don’t remember Professor X ever recognizing the shapeshifter in the films set after this one, but just go with it. You’ll have bigger challenges with this film, believe me.

Fast forward a few years later and an adult Magneto (Michael Fassbender) is searching for Dr. Schmidt (Kevin Bacon), who cruelly studied his powers of magnetism and murdered his mother. We learn that adult Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) and adult Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence) have been hiding their mutant powers ever since they met. Mystique is forced to appear in her human form whenever they’re in public; she thinks men are unlikely to find her attractive in her natural blue form (um… sure).

Schmidt has escaped to America under the guise of Sebastian Shaw. During a stakeout, CIA agent Moira MacTaggert (Rose Byrne) learns Shaw is a mutant who plans to incite nuclear war. See, mutants were born of radiation so they will survive the nuclear winter (never mind the blasts). Most humans, on the other hand, will not. When you’ve got mutants as dangerous as Shaw, you can see why the government wants to track them all, but I digress. Again, there will be harder pills to swallow.

Charles and Mystique are recruited by the CIA to go after Shaw. Charles convinces Magneto to join him. They’re going to need a team, of course, so they scrape the absolute bottom of the barrel. See, for much of the original run of Uncanny X-Men, there was a problem: it was kind of a mediocre comic. It wasn’t until Giant-Size X-Men when the team got interesting. Which begs the question: Why bother making a film about the X-Men team no one, including Marvel itself, gave a shit about?

Look, all superhero movies are at least kind of goofy, but First Class takes the cake. Even the recognizable X-men are portrayed by younger actors with roughly half the gravitas of the old ones. Most of their powers are dull and useless. Worse, Magneto seems to exist in his own movie most of the time, a more serious movie, a darker movie, and a better movie. I would have much rather seen Magneto: Origins than this uneven mess.

Tonal shifts aside, it’s a well made movie made by an accomplished director whose first three movies I admired tremendously. It just isn’t exciting subject matter, unfortunately, and I hope he gets a chance to return to the less-Hollywood fare where he originally made a name.

Batman ends (I finally saw The Dark Knight Rises)

Batman and Bane set aside their differences and hold hands.

Most people who give a shit about Batman have probably already seen The Dark Knight Rises. I just feel no urgency to see a movie that’s going to make a billion dollars anyway and I’d rather give my money to Dredd any day of the week. Besides, going to the multiplex fills me with as much dread as getting up for work after a long night at the bar.

Speaking of dread (Have you seen Dredd?), I have a hunch that Nolan was burnt out on the idea of making another Batman movie this soon. If it took him so many years to write Inception (twelve, by his count), I can see how he may have felt pressured wrapping the series up, particularly after the serendipitous forces that made the previous film so unusually good. Nolan does a remarkable job, all things considered, but it’s not even as good as his first Batman picture.

The Dark Knight Rises opens with an airborne heist. We’ve seen that a million times, in a few James Bond films and Cliffhanger. Other than the introduction of Bane, the film’s powerhouse villain, there really isn’t a lot to discuss here. I mean, they’re not hijacking gold bars or anything as tired as like that, so it’s fresh enough and the photography is exceptional. There’s a punk rock energy to Tom Harden’s performance in the sense his version of Bane sounds absolutely ridiculous in the best (least commercial) way possible, as if telling the audience, “This is what I sound like. Don’t like it? Tough shit.”

Cut to a charity event at Wayne Manor. We learn it’s been eight years since Harvey Dent died and Batman disappeared, accused of murder. Gotham is mostly crime-free and Commissioner Gordon comes this close to telling a crowd of people that the district attorney turned into a raging psychopath at the end of the last picture. Bruce Wayne, it turns out, has become a Howard Hughes recluse whose knees are shot. That night, he catches a cat burglar (Anne Hathaway) stealing his mother’s pearls, but gets foiled by his old man cane. (Have you noticed all the franchise heroes are suddenly allowed to age lately? It’s an interesting trend, but a trend nonetheless.)

That’s where the movie lost me. Forget comparing Catwoman’s character to the other films—within the context of this film, the character is too goofy, too Hollywood, and too unbelievable. I’ve seen Schwarzenegger films with fewer one-liners. Catwoman in The Dark Knight Rises is like the ewoks in Return of the Jedi. The piece just doesn’t fit the puzzle. Hathaway is great with what she’s given, and predictably looks hot in the part, but this is one of the many reasons I think Nolan needed a little more time to let this one cook.

My second biggest complaint is Marion Cotillard, Wayne’s love interest, who you’ll remember from Inception. Movies in general could use a lot more Cotillard, as far as I’m concerned, but her character in this movie is pretty pointless until the point abruptly emerges. Then there’s Joseph Gordon-Levitt. I love this guy, but here he’s a little too run-of-the-mill. We all knew it when we saw the trailer, so let’s not even pretend this is a spoiler: he’s Robin, but don’t expect to see him suit up in his trademark underwear and leggings in the Nolanverse.

Then there’s the lighthearted comedy relief. It’s not as bad as, say, Johnny Knoxville in any non-Jackass movie he’s ever been in. It’s not even that bad, really… it’s just not right for this film. I know Rises was designed to be lighter than the last film (alluding to Dent’s speech about the night getting darkest before the dawn), but a second heist, and the ensuing car chase, struck me as a little too routine for Nolan. Meanwhile, the scenes where Batman and Catwoman fight side by side are reminiscent of Batman’s goofier days.

About halfway through the movie, Nolan drops blunt hints to the film’s conclusion. He wants us to know what happens in the end because there’s more to it than what you would expect. The ending is vague and it didn’t necessarily work for me at first. Thinking back on it, though… yeah, it works (I guess). As far as trilogy-caps go, Rises is among the best. That’s a rare honor even if the competition isn’t very thick.

You should give your money to Dredd instead.

Dredd (2012): Don’t Call It a Remake

When my mother took me to see Judge Dredd on opening weekend in 1995, there was one other moviegoer in attendance. The guy got so bored he tried to read a book during the middle of the movie. Not that Judge Dredd was entirely without merit; I always thought it was a little better than most people cared to admit, Rob Schneider notwithstanding. While Karl Urban certainly has a better chin for Dredd, Sly had the more accurate body type; I may also slightly prefer the costumes and motorcycles of the 1995 film, too. That’s the only nice things I can say about that.

In Mega City One, one of the few cities left standing after nuclear war, Judges are cops, juries, judges, and executioners rolled into one. Despite its breakneck pace, this new adaptation of the 2000 AD character manages to paint a complete picture of its bleak and ultra-authoritarian setting in deft strokes of worldbuilding. We learn early on that Judges are spread so thin they can only respond to 6% of all crime in a city of 800 million people. With statistics like that, it’s a wonder why everyone doesn’t become criminals.

The opening has Judge Dredd engaged in a high-speed pursuit with a street gang who’s stoned on slo-mo, a street drug that makes users perceive time at 1% of its normal speed. Dredd sentences the thugs to death, the last of which is dispensed in gruesome R-rated fashion. In the next scene, Dredd is assigned a new partner, Cassandra Anderson (Olivia Thirlby), who failed her aptitude tests, but may still get recruited for her uncanny psychic abilities… pending Dredd’s assessment, of course.

For her first day on the beat, Dredd lets Anderson pick which call to take. The rookie chooses to respond to a triple homicide in a two-hundred story slum, which happens to house a viscous crime lord known as Ma-Ma (Lena Headey, who’s even crueler in this than she is in HBO’s Game of Thrones). In a brief introduction, we learn Ma-Ma’s an ex-prostitute who “feminized” her former pimp before installing herself as the kingpin manufacturer of slo-mo. When Dredd and Anderson arrest one of her lieutenants, Ma-Ma hacks into the building’s security system, closes the blast doors, and places a bounty on their heads.

That’s it. That’s the entire setup. The rest of the movie is Dredd and Anderson just trying to survive while they wait for backup. Movies like this are only as good as their villains and Dredd has a great one. She’s a believably nasty mother fucker to put it mildly.

Adults rarely have a good excuse to go see a genre movie, but Dredd’s one of the better ones. In 1995 it would have cleaned house. As of this writing, it hasn’t even recouped half of its modest budget. It’s a shame, too, because this is one of the rare franchises deserving numerous sequels. And that’s coming from someone who typically loathes sequels.

FTL is an instant classic in space sims (FTL review)

I’m not an early bird, but this morning I woke up as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning. I checked FTLgame.com to see if the game had gone on sale early—it had. Maybe it was a glitch, but the price tag was somehow only $9. I tipped them an extra dollar and received my Steam key within seconds. Two minutes later, the game finished downloading. And five minutes after that, I’d finished the tutorial.

So is FTL an easy game? The gameplay is as deep, but picking it up is a helluva lot easier than, say, Microsoft’s Freelancer. This is a game that would be perfect for mobile operating systems like Android and iOS. A comment made by one of the site admins suggests it will eventually make it there.

There are three crewmen available from the start. I name one after myself (he’ll be the captain, of course) and keep the randomly generated names for the other two souls onboard: Sem and Maria, who mostly stick to the engine room and the shield generator respectively. We set sail into the wide unknown, pushing the outer edge of the proverbial final frontier.

After a couple of dogfights, which couldn’t be avoided, a distress call is transmitted from a pirate ship wedged between a couple of space rocks. It’d be easy to blast the wounded ship to oblivion and collect whatever cargo survives, but I remember Captain Picard’s policy of keeping the peace and decide to help. Ironically, the trapped ship is destroyed during by attempt to save it. I shrug and make the jump to the next destination, knowing I did my best.

Soon there’s a decision to be made. While the rebel fleet is hot on my ship’s trail, we can travel through a hostile sector or try to make our way through a nebula, which will shut down certain portions of the system’s electronics. I decide to risk the nebula and, hopefully, avoid a number of space battles in the process.

Traveling through a nebula is eerie despite the simple graphics and cheerful chip tunes. The ship’s sensors shut down and suddenly we’re piloting blind. We encounter a few hostiles along the way, but most of the time we can use the nebula as cover and slip by… most of the time.

Crippled by the nebula, pirates rendezvous with and board my ship. Because the sensors are down, I have no idea what’s going on except for in the rooms that contain crew members. So, blindly, I open all the outer doors and try to flush the hijackers out. Did it work? I assume it did until the door to Maria’s shield room turns red: pirates are breaching it. I command her to escape into an adjacent room and open all the doors between the outside of the ship and the shield room. The hijackers run out of oxygen just in time. Another narrow escape—is there really any other kind?

Scrap is currency in FTL. The longer you survive, the more you earn. I avoid encounters, whenever possible, and help wounded enemies rather than capitalize on their misfortune. I don’t make much scrap as I could. I come across some good deals in the cosmos, but I can rarely afford to partake. Thus is the life of an honest ship captain.

Eventually we get a distress call from a planet on which an infectious disease is spreading. The government there can use our help, but it would be wise for us to keep moving. I send a party down to the planet, anyway. Seriously, though: WWCPD? (What would Captain Picard do?) We successfully help them stop the infection from spreading further, but one of my crew is showing symptoms of the illness himself. I’ll be damned if it isn’t my player character: Captain Grant.

Sem and Maria leave him behind and share piloting duties. Things go pretty smoothly despite my absence. Maria is later killed when asteroids rain down on the ship during an escort mission. Sem narrowly escapes, but helps a wounded ally to safety. For the first time the ship is wealthy in scrap. At the next stop, Sem hires two alien crewmen to take up his fallen comrades’ duties. All is well until they encounter a seriously overpowered rebel drone in the most hostile of environments. There’s no hope for Sem and his alien crewmen, but they put up a hell of a fight.

There are no saves to spam. No second chances. “Game Over” means your game is truly over. FTL is roguelike in that respect. I wish there was another mode in which there was some sort of end goal to obtain so that you could claim you had beaten it. As is, your only goal is to see how far you can get, how much you can explore. In the end, I’ve destroyed ten ships, collected more than four hundred units of scrap, and responded to forty-eight distress calls.

Nonetheless, FTL is one of the best games of the year. In fact, if you’re a fan of frequently returning to the freedom of creativity allowed in Freelancer, you’re likely to get a lot of mileage out of this one. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another crew to doom.

The Hammer Of God will bore you to death before it knocks your socks off

In Arthur C. Clarke’s The Hammer of God, which takes place in 2109, humans are living not just on Earth, but on the moon and Mars. One of the world’s fastest growing religions combines Christianity and Islam into something new. When Earth receives what appears to be a radio signal from another star system, Chrislamists preach it’s a message from God. In the same way paranormal investigators unwittingly construct tools to give themselves false positives, Chrislamists employ similar methods of woo to ensure they can interpret the signal in any way that supports their agenda. More on these bozos later.

In this future, 90% of all asteroids and comets in the solar system have been successfully cataloged by SPACEGUARD and a wildly imaginative idea involving the use of a space-detonated nuclear bomb. If SPACEGUARD sounds familiar, it’s because Clarke initially made the program up in Rendezvous with Rama, but in the years between that novel and this one, the initiative became a reality. Curiously, for all the backstory Clarke takes the time to weave about SPACEGUARD, it’s an amateur astronomer living on Mars who detects the titular asteroid that’s on a collision course with Earth.

Fortunately, there’s a spacecraft within rendezvous distance of the doomsday rock, which scientists dub Kali, after the goddess of destruction. Astronauts plan to touchdown on the asteroid and attach a thruster system known as ATLAS, which will nudge Kali out of its current trajectory. Easy peasy.

ATLAS, however, requires a mind-boggling amount of fuel, which takes a month to acquire. By the time they get it, Kali has entered the orbit of Mars—frighteningly close to humanity’s home world. No worries, though, because things are smooth sailing once they get their fuel. The astronauts land on Kali, attach ATLAS, turn the system on and—surprise-surprise: it’s been sabotaged by Chrislamists. It turns out the fundamentalist assholes believe only God should decide whether or not the asteroid collides with Earth.

This is when the book gets good and I mean really good. The astronauts devise one plan after another, only to encounter unforeseen issues left and right. The scientists and politicians back on Earth decide to take out an insurance policy: a hastily constructed nuke which they plan to fire at the asteroid when all is lost. If the astronauts succeed, the scientists will simply send a deactivation signal. If the astronauts fail, they’ll allow the nuke to continue as planned. As you can imagine, things won’t be as simple as that when the time to make the decision comes.

The latter half of the novel is exciting stuff, but Clarke crams too many of his ideas into the front half to make it engaging (I haven’t even mentioned the life-extension technology, artificial intelligence, chaos theory and detailed economics he writes about at length). I caught glimpses of the world-building that made Rendezvous with Rama such a compelling read, but for the most part it’s a meandering slog until things finally go tits up. I think Clarke could have cut as much as 50% out of the earlier sections, but even with all its filler, it’s an unusually short novel.

I’m tempted to tell readers to skip the first half because it’s the second half that likely interested Steven Spielberg when he optioned the book into a movie. Why his production company made the criminally boring Deep Impact instead, I’ll never know.

Chronicle (2012)

Aside from their amazingly clear complexions, I buy that the three leads in Chronicle are real teenagers. The first act delivers enough solid acting and teen drama to make us believe it is set in an actual high school. It’s yet another one of those “found footage” movies, supposedly shot on one of the character’s consumer-grade camcorder with the on-board mic… sure, I’m willing to suspend my disbelief. Every once and a while, we see different angles from the phones of eye witnesses and bloggers, security cameras and news teams.

One night, the three friends stumble upon a mysterious hole in the woods and decide to go spelunking. Inside, they find something extra-terrestrial in nature and leave with nose bleeds. It’s not long before they realize they have developed supernatural powers. If there’s one movie I’d compare Chronicle to, it isn’t a Marvel film. It’s Carrie. Soon the kids are using their telekinesis to do exactly what kids would do if they actually obtained such powers: pranks. This involves humorous scenes of remotely moving shopping carts and parked cars.

When they push their powers too far, they get nose bleeds. One of the boys theorizes that it’s like a muscle: use it too much, it gets exhausted. But the muscle can be exercised, too. As they become more and more powerful, the socially awkward main character finally steps out from behind the camera he’s been using as a security blanket. Since he can levitate objects with ease, there’s no need for a dedicated cameraman anymore as the camera follows him like an automatic drone.

He’s not stable. He’s not popular. He frequently gets his ass kicked by high school bullies and his alcoholic father. When bullies push someone like that enough, they push back. But his newfound powers are a dangerous drug and he soon finds himself addicted, much to his only friends’ dismay.

Chronicle isn’t everything I usually hope for in a popcorn flick, but it’s entertaining, original, and rarely insults the intelligence. Definitely one of the more memorable superhero flicks.

Prometheus (2012)

The year is 2089. Scientists have just uncovered caveman drawings which somehow depict a far-away star system. Fast forward a few years later and the scientists are on a ship to the star system, aiming to touch down on a planet remarkably like Earth. Fans of the franchise can probably already guess that the Weyland Corporation is footing the bill.

Ridley Scott’s Prometheus reminds me of The History Channel’s Ancient Aliens. Like that show, there are huge leaps of logic. 2001: A Space Odyssey was great because it found a way to balance Arthur C. Clarke’s rigorous science with Kubrick’s interest in mysticism. Prometheus, on the other hand, dumps the science entirely while crapping out unbelievable woo which doesn’t just aim to explain the origin of the aliens, but humanity itself. I just find it embarrassing that one of the most beloved science fiction franchises is now entwined with the idiotic pseudoscience made popular by Chariots of the Gods.

Scott plays well with the canon established since his original film, but Prometheus isn’t sure whether it wants to be a horror film, like the quiet original, or an action movie like James Cameron’s bombastic sequel. The result is a constant tug-of-war between the two styles, which makes for an unusual pace. If you’re expecting a tonal prequel to Alien or Aliens, you’re going to be disappointed, if not a little discombobulated. Having said that, it’s probably the most inspired effort since 1986, though with stinkers like Alien 3 and Resurrection, is that really saying much?

Charlize Theron has never seemed more robotic. (Perhaps she’s an android? If so, what the hell does that add?) In behind-the-scenes footage, producers claimed the writers fleshed out her character when they learned she was playing the part. If this is true, I can’t imagine how one-dimensional the character must have been in the first place.

Guy Pierce, playing the founder of Weyland Corporation, appears in old-age makeup that looks so phony you don’t accept him as a character, but an unnecessary special effect. There’s no need to have young men playing old men unless you see the character young and old in the same movie—even then, it’s almost always more effective when you just get two actors to… you know, act.

Meanwhile, the trailer gives away more than it should have, much more than I’m giving away here. If I say anymore about what I’m referring to, I’ll be spoiling it myself. But if you’ve seen the trailer and you have a decent memory, you’ll probably be able to put two and two together long before you were supposed to figure it out.

I do want to point out that Michael Fassbender as David the android is probably the most intriguing character of the entire seventeen-man crew, but most of that comes down to the mystery surrounding him. Does he have human emotions? If not, why does he act the way he does? Why does he idolize Peter O’Toole? Is he merely programmed to behave as if he idolizes O’Toole? The oddest thing about David is the fact he seems to be more advanced than Ian Holm’s depiction of Ash in the original film, which is set nearly a hundred years after this one.

At any rate, there’s quite a bit good in Prometheus, too, but I don’t want to spoil the fun. It’s not good enough to be a classic, but it’s good enough to go see it in theaters.

Melancholia (2011)

By the end of Melacholia, the world will be destroyed. That’s no spoiler—it’s shown first thing so the audience won’t hold out for an unlikely Hollywood ending. Although the classical music and imagery begs comparison to 2001: A Space Odyssey, to call this science fiction is both an insult to Lars Von Trier’s intentions and to science fiction itself. The idea that such a rogue planet exists is a “serious” subject of countless conspiracy theories; frankly, the concept is too preposterous to take seriously.

Indeed, there was a Father Sarducci joke in which the comedian asserts there is a planet on the other side of the sun. There, everything is just as it is on Earth… only the inhabitants eat their corn on the cob vertically. In Melancholia, the vertical corncob planet is on a collision course with Earth. There’s no last ditch effort to save humanity. Nothing can stop it.

The most impressive shots are in the overture, before the title card is ever shown. Von Trier plays with the same high speed cameras he employed in Anti-Christ, giving us a taste of the themes and motifs to come. Then the film abruptly switches to hand-held photography as it focuses on Justine (Kirsten Dunst), a hyper-depressed individual who is struggling to deal with a dysfunctional family on the day of her wedding. It’s hard to believe nearly everyone in her family can be, as one character puts it, “stark-raving mad,” but Von Trier always exaggerates to show us how people like Justine (and himself) actually feel.

Despite her many blessings, including a wedding that may have cost as much as a Bugatti, Justine cannot be happy through little fault of her own. John, her brother-in-law (Kiefer Sutherland), comes to her and threatens, “You better be goddamn happy.” Justine’s sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbough) initially comes off as a snotty bitch, but we soon intuit just how far Justine has pushed her. Claire loves her sister, warts and all. She’s a lot more stable and caring from her own point-of-view scenes than she is from Justine’s. When it’s clear the planet’s days are numbered, the roles swap: Claire becomes a mess while Justine stabilizes.

It’s hard to review a film like this. It’s not a crowd pleaser, it’s a deeply challenging and exhausting piece of cinema with real and unlovable characters. Yet I see parts of myself in Justine and I can relate to those around her. There’s a brutal but refreshing honesty which is more interesting to watch than a ragtag group of unlikely heroes flying around in spaceships to save the world. You’re either going to love it or hate it. Frankly, I’m far more offended by mediocre movies than polarizing ones. I can confidently say I will see it again someday, but I’m not in any rush to do so… as with Anti-Christ, I need time to recover.

5 reasons to get excited for Prometheus

1. Noomi Rapace

Rapace is unreasonably attractive, in a non-Hollywood way, and she’s among the least obvious leads for a summer blockbuster. My favorite part of the trailer is when someone tells her, “You’re smiling.” She is smiling, giddily, presumably over a scientific discovery. That’s what I want to see: characters who react like humans, not stone cold action heroes. It’s so strange that so many actors are incapable of emoting awe, especially in otherwise fantastical movies.

2. Charlize Theron

Theron said Ridley Scott is her dream director. Word on the street is the role was a two-dimensional character, which the writers punched up when Theron came on board. You’d expect the company stooge (I’m guessing it’s this film’s equivalent of the Paul Reiser part in Aliens) to be a boring stereotype, but it sounds like some thought has been given to her. Besides, there are reports that Theron does push-ups in the nude in one scene… need I say more?

3. Ridley Scott

When I was growing up, absolutely secure in my belief that 2001: A Space Odyssey was the greatest science fiction film of all time, I was collecting every new version of Blade Runner that released over the years, from VHS to DVD, from theatrical cuts to supposed director’s cuts. Little did I know how much the film was growing on me. By the time The Final Cut came out, it became one of my favorite science fiction films. It’s a good sign that Scott would return to the franchise he pioneered in the first place.

4. The R-Rating

We all expected this to be a PG-13 cash grab, because that’s what Hollywood does these days (even Die Hard 4 was rated PG-13). No, the R-rating isn’t an automatic indication of quality, but on the other hand, whenever a sequel to an R-rated film is rated PG-13, we can be certain that wasn’t an artistic decision. Usually it’s just the studio chasing a demographic that wouldn’t know a good movie if punched in the face by one.

5. Alien films were really beginning to suck

Imagine if the Alien Vs. Predator films had closed out the franchise. They were rated PG-13, sported generic directors, and the studio took the chicken-shit stance of refusing to screen it for critics. And whereas the ol’ metamorphis of an alien (facehugger > chestburster > xenomorph) was highly creative at the time, the novelty wears off when it’s literally older than I am. Frankly, it’s nigh time the Alien franchise got a shot in the arm.