David Lynch (1946-2025) : Poet Of The Unseen

Sometimes, it almost feels like a form of manifestation, looking back at a beloved inspiration's extensive body of work. Perhaps this sensation I’ve been almost continuously experiencing has been with me ever since we lost David Bowie, where suddenly old anxieties about mortality seep into everyday musing and conversation. This is especially impactful when the marathoning and celebrating occurs mere weeks before the subject of all this love and re-examination exits the stage. Sure, they weren’t making anything as grand as an album or a film, but the feeling that in their own private way, they continued to weave their spirit into new and illuminating ways at home, out if public view. Which is perhaps why after several hours of seeing the news across social media that multimedia artist, and cinema surrealist, David Lynch had indeed departed our world, that the weight of it has yet to truly hit my chest like so many others.

This is especially puzzling as few artists have impacted every corner of my waking creative life quite like he has, and perhaps will continue to long after all of this.

A relationship that began the moment I first saw print ads and then posters for The Elephant Man (1980) in newspapers and just outside a local movie house. The black and white image of the wrapped, and mysterious shape of John Merrick as it defied any easy discernable concept of a recognizable human being. Even so, a haunted beauty that seemingly saw this unusual shape as host to what I would later grow to love and better understand. That the teller behind this story was fascinated by humanity's need for established normalcy in spite of nature’s endless curves and bends beyond said need. That there was grace and even stirring poetic soul within the surface abject, perhaps with a bevy of long neglected questions regarding our shared yearning and belief in a larger, more encompassing universe.

And when his ill-fated adaptation of DUNE (1984) enraptured my mind regardless of its often misshapen story threatened to careen into utter incoherence, it was clear that this was a storyteller not so much interested in the instantaneous, and more on the distended pause after a door closes, the lingering that we occasionally partake of our surroundings only to realize we’ve been too lost in thought to recognize what exactly we were looking at. Weaving in and out of perspectives not unlike the ways dreams can occasionally bleed into new and tonally powerful states of being and awareness.

So when Blue Velvet, and later Twin Peaks hit the scene, it had finally felt like a more concrete identity had taken shape, not to mention evoked questions within me about the community I grew up in. A place that could not be more opposed in atmosphere, but with a surreality, and social shape of its own complete with secrets and legends lying seemingly dormant to many of us. It was clear by this point that his worlds and characters, even as they recalled aesthetics and iconography that laced my parents’ childhoods, there was a bridge forming that bridged childhood innocence comfortably alongside adult horrors and hushed passages with sights and sounds that felt raw, immediate, mainlined straight from the unfettered unconscious.

Whether it be David Lynch the filmmaker, David Lynch the painter and visual artist, David Lynch the musician, or even David Lynch the askew public persona with his many tales of inspiration and his message about the unbridled power of ideas, there was always something to delve deeper, beyond the tactile materials of his works that imbued me with the means to dream, to muse, and to view the world in ways perhaps my ancestors were more attuned to receiving as the society I grew up in possessed only so much room for magical realism and existentialism beyond the printed word. The impacts upon my personal life continue to be profound, and continue to reveal themselves the more I ruminate through this piece. Which makes me think I may need a larger canvas to better elaborate one day.

But I will also wholeheartedly celebrate and continue to ruminate and feel not only his work, but the vision, drive, and character of a man so beloved by so many friends and family of collaborators who helped his voice become what it has through many hurdles and processes. There is a genuine essence of life here in the story of this person who has touched the hearts and hungry minds of so many, that to summarize it all here in one post can only be impossible. Without him, I wouldn’t be so into Jodorowsky, Bunuel, Roeg, Russel, Deren, and so many others. Heck even my appreciation of Wilder might not be as prevalent without him, not to mention my lifelong love of the arts as a whole. In a great many ways, his work is an active overture for seeking more from creatives, including questions, social & self-interrogation, satire, and most importantly, a space to further contemplate and explore without barriers of language or reason to hold us rigid. Because more than anything else, his vision was that of an unencumbered mind, a beacon reminding us that our rational minds are themselves the product of market interests that require us to be unquestioning worker bees. And that we too are capable of incredible things if we simply listened a little closer to that distant inner speech we all possess.

For all of these things, and so much more to discuss & create, I will remain eternally grateful. A once in a lifetime mirror to our shared inner humanity. From beauty to disquiet. It’s all there for us. He was merely here to remind us that it was always here to help. That the totality itself is beautiful. And that alone is cosmically noble in ways I continue to process to this very hour.

Not bad for a scientist’s son from Missoula, Montana..

FURIOSA: A Mad Max Saga (2024) Film Thoughts

George Miller expanding the canvas in ways filmmakers can only dream of as he and his merry crew return to the Mad Max universe for an expansive, rich, and poignant prequel many years in development..

Anya Taylor-Joy is a truly seamless road warrior in the making as she embarks on an odyssey of self discovery and revenge whilst Chris Hemsworth is having the absolute time of his life as the man possibly most responsible for her transformation.

As a Mad Max film, the hard turn away from full throttle action tale to poetic fantasy epic might let some fans down some. But the opportunity to enhance the Fury Road experience with this level of world building is truly a marvel to behold. This is the creative bible from which Fury Road was borne.

For me, the most exciting point of evolution for Miller with FURIOSA is the reckoning with the entire motivations behind the entire series' characters as fundamentally broken, hollow people incapable of ever reclaiming their missing parts. In plain text, this one makes it clear in a way that transcends cinema and brings us right back to intimate stage theatrics.

In no uncertain terms, Miller is even calling into question the exploitation impulses that granted him success in '79.

The Toecutter, can never have what he wants.

Lord Humungus, can never have what he wants.

Aunty Entity can come close, but never have what she wants.

Dementus, can never have what he wants.

The People Eater, can never have what he wants.

Bullet Farmer, can never have what he wants.

Immortan Joe, nor his family can never have what they want.

Furiosa, and Max might be able to find some fleeting form of redemption, but what's lost is lost.

And for me, that is what has always spoken to me about these films - grappling with loss, and the temptation to either become an island, avoiding everyone and everything, or be consumed by everything in vain attempts to quell the emptiness. True apocalypse.

In a cinema environment like we have today, it is increasingly unlikely we'll ever have action spectacle as grand, transporting, and beautiful like FURIOSA(2024) ever again.

Dune Part Two (2024) Film Thoughts

"One cannot see the future without seeing the past.."

And so among the other thoughts that have been marinating through my mind since my first viewing of DUNE Part Two (2024) is that in spite of it being made into two films, Villeneuve and screenwriter Jon Spaihts were tasked with what path Paul Atreides would take along his journey, and what has been decided maintains the deconstructive aims of Herbert's novel while gaming out some really fascinating "What-Ifs" that seemingly feel informed by previous adaptation attempts.

No spoilers here, but it must be said that going this way makes great sense in terms of the current political and social moment, as well as granting the core ideas more clarity and less unnecessary narrative noise. For many who have already commented about the second film being pretty dense, unfamiliar with the book might be surprised to hear how minimalist this take on the material is without omitting the haunted and broken heart of it.

Everyone shows up for this film as the novel and legacy demands, but it is a potentially tough sit for those uncomfortable with the notion that in the struggle between heart and mind, the mind has shaped a great deal of the world that surrounds us while the heart tends to get exploited and ultimately abandoned. Or at least, this is the core idea that has always affected me with the original text. - the heart, merely exploitable lubricant for the gears of both power and influence. Rarely to never a means of functional liberation.

Part Two is a truly extraordinary, bordering on monolithic accomplishment for all involved. But mileage could vary depending upon one's view of power in a historical sense. It may be science fiction on a scale unseen before by mass audiences, but I remain unsure of what it means that Herbert's voice is now in their hands, while fans of the books now find themselves in bold, potentially provocative new territory.

Why I Hate THE MENU (2022)

To help frame this, it’s important to keep in mind that I’m surrounded by international and local artists as friends and collaborators on occasion, each with varying levels of success on the large and small scale. It’s a universe where even talented humans being need to know their limitations and their audience without losing sight of their particular voice. And very often, you might be surprised at how many know the silly, almost real estate nature of the fine arts business, this includes film where you have to skirt the personal with the commercial with as few compromises as possible - in a situation where in reality, all collaborative action is a compromise.

Where The Menu goes wrong for me is in how haywire the difference between intent and execution is. From frame one it’s clear that we’re exploring the rift between the hardcore connoisseur and the casual consumer vs. the artist and the machine that serves them. The initial setup seems simple enough, but the first lines of most successful scripts need to lay that out with a bit more clarity. But right away it feels as though this was once a much longer film (say an additional thirty minutes- this thing looks chopped to ribbons) where we never get a firm idea of who anyone is enough to know where the omniscient eye is going to be. Something that a lot of effective satire requires is that omniscient eye that merely displays. Where it can often go wrong is where the film decides to give screen time. Ultimately, the longer we spend time with certain characters, the more clearly the film’s philosophical bias lies. And surprise of surprises, Slowik gets more. Which is really strange considering where it wants to target its barbs. There’s no proper buildup to his life as an artist leading up to the moments of the film, it never really even takes those pauses to help us understand it. If this movie is to take that specific class struggle aim, it’s important to focus on personal agency. By not doing so, the longer we’re with Chef Slowik, the more it becomes clear that the filmmaker wants the viewer to empathize with a disgruntled artist.

::Brakes:: Remember what I said earlier, if one is any good at navigating this often arbitrary, shallow, self-serving realm, one needs to make it clear that the people involved as workers to create a product, are not victims. Especially those at the top who are often given carte blanc to do and say what they wish to say. There is no torture to this, unless you yourself have sold your entire creative soul to have done this. And as such, it isn’t retribution on any level to take it out on the artifice and snobbery of consumers you don’t even like or respect. In fact, it comes off as juvenile and perhaps even sociopathic to assume it’s everyone else’s fault, not yours.

So to use Slowik’s cuisine as an art not unlike cinema to blame those with not only fiscal, career, or reputational agendas, what this movie is doing is letting Slowik off the hook for taking some pretty poor personal and career moves. He is an artist. He is a unique individual with his own agency. He is not a victim of any of this. So to allow him to go through with the complete menu is to say that he has learned absolutely nothing from his encounter with Margot. - Which is touted from the start to be a counterpoint to the Chef.

So let’s get into what makes Margot not work; Easy. She has zero inner life. She is merely some angry film school freshman’s idea of an “everyperson voice”, which might have worked better if it had one simple missing ingredient; She needed to herself be an artist. She needed to be who she was, enjoy it, and be capable of illustrating what it means to be observant of the world. Now I can see the simplistic notion of casting Taylor-Joy as the observant party - her eyes. But the script needed much more than this. Otherwise, she ostensibly becomes another hoary example of “street person who speaks the truth” without any real depth or compelling nuance.

Worse yet, taking the argument that fans or critics should know their place and would self-destruct if given one day in an artist’s shoes, only works when we care about the artist, and even then it’s again another shallow, self-absorbed argument (“If you dislike my work, go make your own!”) to use in something with this level of talent involved.

And speaking of working beneath your capabilities, the biggest mistake this film makes for me is to cast Fiennes (an actor who has for decades exhuded sly intelligence and class) as someone we’re supposed to believe couldn’t see the trajectory of his life long before any of this happened. I’m sorry, there’s just no way to buy any of that. This is especially offensive when his final dish is what it was. (Something that might work in a five minute dark comedy sketch with a schlubby culinary wunderkind who lucked his way into prestige, and not a multi million dollar production with Ralph Fiennes as mastermind- that’s just low bar in every imaginable respect considering his passion was the most basic of sandwiches. There’s genuine disconnnect there that’s impossible to ignore. It is muddled nonsense.)

So to sum up, pick your poison; make a class struggle satire where we never know the mastermind’s true intentions over his “entourage”, or you skewer artists for buying into any of it. Do what this film does, and the entire thing gets murky - especially when studio notes demand that you clarify exactly who Dr. King is. Good grief, the level of contempt this movie has for the intelligence of its audience might work if it had to artistry to do so. Otherwise it’s just juvenile posturing.

And yeah, I’ll admit that the last time I saw a screed like this it was Inarritu’s BIRDMAN, and I loathe that film as well. But at least that trash was made elegantly. This isn’t even a fifth as successful at conveying a viewpoint. Because if the intent was that in the realm of worker versus consumer everyone is complicit, you’ve got to be better at setup and payoff. Focus and beats will always matter. It’s worth watching if only to remember how hard it is to make something like this. And not everyone is capable of delivering that level of ambition.

What we want to say is rarely ever as important as how we say it.

2017: Pop Cinema As People's Narrative

As we reach mere hours on the ticker for what was in no small way, a truly challenging and traumatic year for so many of us,  wanted to make sure there were some words regarding the year's largest film releases, and the truly clear thread that has arisen from them. Unlike so many years past, where the overruling echoes of individualism had been the primary message to take from mainstream blockbusters, 2017, even more than in the latter years if the Obama administration, espouse something far more concentrated, and occasionally radical than has ever been espoused this side of the more rambunctious 1970s. This is a year that started off with a debut so assured, frightening, and impactful, that everything that has come since hasn't been capable of silencing its runaway success. Soon after, major tentpole releases found themselves openly challenging the fandoms that made them possible, leading to not only push back with greater force than imaginable, but highlight a strong sense of awareness never before considered. A film landscape seemingly ready to not only speak truth to power, but to even challenge some of the industry's own dominant philosophies.

I could spend more time on Watiti's often terrific Thor: Ragnarok, and its built-in subversive kick against colonialist rule, but I really wish to concentrate on this small handful of "soft reboots" or latter day sequels, as they have largely embraced what I speak of in no small way.

And what makes them especially surprising, is how they mostly come from voices who have been with us for years. This isn't some case of one generation out to usurp the other, no matter what pundits and reactionaries would have one believe. These are voices from generations who could very easily have treated the year with a sense of philosophical one-upmanship, or a belief that the world is to be taken back to a mythologized past in order to save it. Most of these harken to a world that has been long in need of some true, and often difficult self-examination while the damage continues to pile up around us all.

Not unlike Capra's It's A Wonderful Life, we are ever firmly placed precariously between the worlds of individualism versus community. America, has throughout its history been a living, breathing, growing manifestation of this debate. But rarely has grand scale commercial cinema been so willing to become a part of the narrative where we are at last willing to talk about the toll of personal glory, and what it means for future generations. And while these films certainly do not break matters down into simple Bedford Falls/Pottersville platitudes, they do offer up some long delayed challenges to many common perceptions of the powerful and the communities around them.

5) Guardians Of The Galaxy Vol. 2

Dir. James Gunn

Now this one came like a freight train to the sternum. Not content with merely echoing the runaway success of Perlman & Gunn's brilliant retooling of a lesser known Marvel property, the second adventure sees our heroes, still very much as outsiders. But as outsiders who are themselves so as products of abuse. The film delivers the same comedy action goods, but this time is more than ready to delve deep into what makes this motley crew of lovable losers so relatable and compelling. And what comes out, is a shockingly frank examination of toxic masculinity, its effects on children, and what it means to confront your ego in the name of family. It's an unexpected voyage into the nature of what makes such character types so appealing, and yet so repellent at times in an era where such behavior finds itself widely embraced online, where so few people are capable of saying such things into the faces of others. And that's the most astonishing part. This is a film franchise with its own borderline regressive baggage (consider Drax at times), and yet it does take the time to make clear that these guys are likeable, because quite frankly, we've all known them at one time or another. Even so, the story unfolds allowing us to consider the whys, and what could be possible once we consider some introspection. Now imagine fantastical ones who are forced to air it all out, even when it renders them more ordinary than we once thought. More than just a funny, exciting victory lap featuring a scene stealing Michael Rooker.

4) Blade Runner 2049

dir. Denis Villaneuve

   Now this one is a little trickier to explain as the original classic's backdrop in itself contains its own mildly right-wing reactionism in regards to its still jaw dropping future hellscape vision, complete with fears of eastern influences, and population shift. But what comes out of Villaneuve's assured, potent follow-up, is a continuation where these individualist aims have come at ultimate cost to the remaining people and machines of Earth. No longer simply hunting humanoid replicants, but now seeking to actively destroy any evidence of the possibility of a new species in a post-manmade world, is a terrifying place to start. The questions regarding what defines human remain, but have exponentially increased in complexity, now that we are largely following machine protagonists. The second film at last displays the sheer breadth of destruction male dominator culture has wroth upon the world, with only the sickly, the dying, and the programmed to play along with their landscape, as if this is what it has always been. Through the eyes of detective Constant K(Ryan Gosling, in a brilliantly low key performance), and those he meets through his journey into a forest of corruption and danger, we are also given a glimpse into a culture's obsession with being a "chosen one", and a deep dive into what constitutes life. Not to mention some carefully considered poetic allusions to self-definition in a world that has long been on auto-pilot. There are no ideal humans, because they are either gone, or are "little people". He is countered by "villanous" replicant, Luv, who herself sees no way out of the individualist cage. She may be dangerous, but consider the distant, isolated towers she comes from, and the abusive father she has grown to represent. She becomes something of a tragic remnant of a world that seems destined to eat itself alive. (No wonder Off-World seemed so ideal) Virtue and selflessness remain rare commodities, when all one has is a hope that the world won't collapse upon us all one day. 2049, is a vision of a world where the Trumps of the world have long since won, and the very act of giving beyond yourself, is a revolutionary act. A place where even the smallest hint of light, is liberation.

3) Wonder Woman

dir. Patty Jenkins

You know, my feelings about some of the story notwithstanding, there is absolutely no denying the seismic intensity Jenkins' first leap into the majors has left upon the cinema and cultural landscape. Even when the film follows what is pretty much a mostly familiar origin tale, the initial battle on Themiscyra, her first days into the world, and her walk into No Man's Land, remain some of the most painterly examples of their type. On top of this, the very nature of Diana's interplay with the world of men, and the creeping realization that the nature of evil isn't something to easily label and destroy, are powerful counterpoints to so much of superhero cinema, let alone the action film. There is also a grand respect for those who wish to protect others regardless of skill or power that flows through much of the piece. It's as if for a brief moment, the now deathly limping DC Cinematic Universe was asleep for a moment, and suddenly remembered what made such iconic characters so enduring. That it wasn't so much a matter of might making right, but of considering the cost of war, and the value of self sacrifice. While in no way a slam dunk in terms of story, Wonder Woman has its heart largely in the right place. And a lot of this is due to having picked a cast and crew that truly cared, and were up to the task in making sure we witnessed it.

2) Star Wars The Last Jedi

dir. Rian Johnson

It's been two solid weeks, and it's impossible to overstate just how important this one was to me. Both a shattering reconfiguration of the ongoing updated Star Wars saga, and an ode to the more humble fantasy serials of the past, it's a reckoning with years of identity confusion backed by a script, cast, and story that rivals the very best the franchise ever had to offer. Being the third of these films, the initial two of which while decent in their own right, gave me no clue as to how well this one would pan out. Even while singing praises of Lucasfilm choosing Rian Johnson for directorial duties, the expectation still wasn't apparent. And now, more than ever, the gamble could not have been a better one. Few franchises have yet to call to question their own fandoms, but if there was ever a gauntlet to be thrown with some of the best turns against one's own worst tendencies, I would never have imagined it would be this one. At last granting focus upon the very reasons for seemingly endless "star wars", and the dreams of the young, longing to change the world for the better despite the shortcomings of their legends, and even "legends", The Last Jedi, is bursting at the seams with reckoning. It's almost whiplash inducing just how easily its seems to juggle failure with optimism, sobriety with hope. And yet it all works to largely satisfying results as the young remnants of my own youth, begin to find definition in more complex, messy fashions than we ever did. And there's so much hope to mine from this alone. When we acknowledge our failures, understand that the souls of many are far more important than one, and sum up the courage to save others despite them, that is an ideal worth giving for. And that is why for me, TLJ is the Star Wars climax I never knew I needed. 

1) Twin Peaks The Return

I could go on about this one for days, but we won't. 

At the marrow, the very notion of returning to a beloved story is often a cynical, capital driven enterprise. Let's be honest about it. More often than not, there is absolutely no good reason for a sequel to exist, save for a few more dollars from the public ATM. Which is why David Lynch's announcement via tweet of a return to his and Mark Frost's television landmark, felt like a bit of a hard record scratch from an artist who would never do anything unless it came from a personal place. So when the production began, and the secrecy machine began in earnest, my attention was at full alert not unlike so many longtime diehards. What it turned out to be, was an eighteen hour event that will likely go down in history with the greatest of the medium. An unrepentant, atmospheric, frightening, hilarious, and frustrating voyage across an American landscape so alien, it could only reflect the one I see a small portion of every day. With the mystery of "Who Killed Laura Palmer?" now converted to "Where's Special Agent Dale Cooper?", the cinematic event of the year is less a continuation of the ABC network groundbreaker, and more an epic expansion of Lynch's entire output in the wake of his Peaks feature film, Fire Walk With Me(1992). And as such, the dreamscapes of this vision, both quirky and nightmarish are in full bloom, featuring much of the original cast, and a huge cadre of new faces representing what has happened in the two decades since that fateful final episode in June of 1991. Greater still, is The Return's bullish willingness to illustrate an America that has fallen in that time to forces that were long in motion before the little northwestern town's beloved homecoming queen was found dead, wrapped in plastic. And what emerges through every sumptuous, enigmatic moment of this saga, is the reveal that America has indeed been pulled apart by too much self, too much want, too much dearth of what made this simple town so easy to love in the first place.

But the tragedy goes deeper, implying that Peaks' plight, is America's. And that no amount of wishful notions will bring it back. To 2017 David Lynch, nostalgia (even the nostalgia he himself tends to thrive on creatively.) has become something of a toxic presence. A gateway to something safe on the surface, but only functions as a balm as entropy remains ever at our doorstep, always itching to come in. We as viewers could only wish for a return to that which grants us peace and familiarity, but even this over time renders itself an impossibility. Time is ever on the move, allowing us more to reflect and act, but as long as we continue to wish for our heroes to return, it's almost a guarantee that they will never be the same people we once looked up to, or projected ourselves onto. And what Lynch & Frost seem to suggest here, is that the future is not to be in the hands of the chosen, but in the hands of those most willing to meet it every chance they can. Not people with special abilities, or skills, or designations, but all of us.

Our homes ever being only as clean or as safe as we make them. Ensuring it for others over time. Because we are but visitors, and nothing is forever.

Alien: Covenant (2017) Film Thoughts

Never let it be said that Ridley Scott, and company weren't strident in their ambitions with PROMETHEUS. A film that both galvanized me with a certain slackjawed awe at its unique perspective, and attempts at heady themes, and also infused me with inescapable rage at how jumbled the final product unspooled. When the subject of ALIEN: COVENANT came into a discussion with friends, up came a shared belief; that an artist should never apologize for the past. Even if we, the audience may not agree with it, there was a concerted effort to expose something new to us. And that this alone should be commended in a medium so often submerged in sameness, and repetition.

Enter: ALIEN: COVENANT. A sequel/"course corrected" vehicle for what ever kneejerk impulse director Scott has in mind for his universe of face raping parasites, psychotic androids, and hapless blue collar saps.

Here, we begin with a little flashback to what seems to be the incept day of PROMETHEUS' David(the always excellent Michael Fassbender), receiving his first lessons in recognizing life and creation by way of his father, Peter Weyland(Guy Pearce, sans scary Goldmember makeup). And it is at the order of tea do we begin to at least scratch the surface of David's future indifference to human life before flashing forward ten years after the events of PROMETHEUS, with the multi-year colonization mission, the COVENANT. A ship carrying within it over two thousand souls, helmed by a group of married coupled in hypersleep, and scores of frozen human embryos to be used on their destination, the distant star known as Origae-6. Awakened suddenly by a freak stellar phenomenon ending in the death of several crewmembers, including Captain Jacob Branson(the only really seen in YouTube marketing, James Franco), the husband of terraforming specialist, Daniels Branson now left to help pick up the pieces with the help of what remains of the crew. Assisted by the advanced synthetic Walter(Fassbender again), who while looks exactly like a certain other, seems to sport an american accent, and a much more stable temperament. Their repairs are cut short when they receive what seems to be a distress signal of seeming human origin just a short jaunt away on a planet much closer than the anticipated seven years they still had to go.

So yeah, despite the relationship dynamics, which weren't of Scott's concern in the 1979 original, this all begins to sound rather familiar to the initiated. Which is where the film begins to take steps both familiar and unfamiliar. In the absence of their original captain, the duties fall to the less than up to the task, Christopher Oram(Billy Crudup), a man of often questionable spine to lead an expedition while ship pilot, Tennessee(Danny McBride), and others remain in orbit. Problems? An ion storm that can last up to months is brewing, and while the surface looks peaceful, what lurks beyond the woods is both familiar, and none too friendly.

With all that out there, it's easy to see how much we've already seen compared to what writers, John Logan & Dante Harper were saddled with considering the sprawling disarray that PROMETHEUS ended up being. This problem is exacerbated by the David/Walter scenes, as they come off as if they belong in an entirely different film. While the ground team explores this mysterious, almost Earthlike planet, we are host to not only what happened to what remained of the PROMETHEUS crew, but of new forms of parasitic monsters that have no trouble decimating the team's numbers in a sequence that echoes some of the best in the series. The problems again being that there is a clear tug-of-war at play between the new, more exotic ideas of the previous films, and some studio need to hew so close to familiarity that it becomes shackles on the story. I can go so far as to even suggest that the voice to express this hidden tension throughout belongs to David himself. Created to BOTH serve and create, he finds humans far too limited to grasp the world of possibilities he sees. And as such, is unfazed about the lives he destroys in the process of seeking them. He is a classic mad scientist with a warm composure, but a sly grin. With COVENANT, we experience a film that both wants to be a follow-up to Elizabeth Shaw(The much missed Noomi Rapace) & David's journey to the planet of engineers, as well as a standard ALIEN feature. And as such, we get well visualized ideas wrapped around a spine with an ingrained curvature. 

The return of the classic xenomorph, as a result, ends up being the film's most banal element. It's a film that eagerly wants to explore new territory, but is hobbled by the past. Deep within the confines of ALIEN: COVENANT, there is an exasperated legend, embittered that his wish to repurpose the universe he created into a canvas for his own love of classical literature and art is being held back by market forces that expect him to not be so "creative" so open, so..odd. It isn't hard to see David as an analogue for Scott in that he sees himself as a romantic, eager to paint new worlds that echo scripture and poetry of the past, as we endlessly cycle through between the cold machinery of capitalism, and passionate overtures of art. In COVENANT, as in PROMETHEUS, creativity is both herald of beauty, and an act of brutality. There is no safety to be had in discovering new corners of experience. 

How in the world did we get here? It's almost as if Scott is asking us, no demanding that we expect more from our tales. To understand why the classics are what they are. This deep seated need, however is later exposed in all too blunt terms when the final twenty five minutes plays like a speed run of the original film, complete with slasher movie kill. It's a moment so crass and jarring, it's hard to believe that this is the same man who brought us the quiet elegance of the original derelict spacecraft, the wrath of the facehugger, and the unrelenting slow build of the fate of the commercial starship Nostromo. It's a final raspberry by a man who's made a career of some of the most beautiful imagery in film. COVENANT, indeed feels like that moment friends and I have commented on for years coming to light.

Maybe David's right. Maybe we don't deserve the grace.