Saw Prometheus
But before that: I'd love to discuss the topic from my last blog in a proper thread some time, but I hadn't the time to properly engage that time, and it's not exaclty the format I'd choose.
Anyway, on with the blog. I don't think there are any real spoilers in this brief review/analysis, but I'm going to wrap it in spoiler tags anyway, just in case.
So... I may need to watch that again to work out what was happening.
It felt like Ridley Scott started a lot of threads and subplots that were left hanging. People (and androids) took actions that seemed like they had some hidden motive, but then that motive remained hidden and they randomly adopted a new one. And he reused old set-peices. Walking into a room filled with short, ominous metal cylinders spaces evenly all over the floor was far too much like the egg room in Alien. Perhaps it was a sort of homage, but it didn't work for me. Especially after the characters had just recently woken up from their stasis pods and were congregating in a round, white dining room. I tell you, there is no way in hell I could eat breakfast on a set like that. Certainly not with the pleasure of John Hurt's company. I did not realise that I had that sort of specific dread instilled in me for so long.
Interestingly, computers seemed to be much more advanced in the past. Some sort of dreadful technological regression seems to have occured over the next few years. The Star Wars galaxy suffered much the same fate, as I recall.
And when you flee from a giant rolling wheel, the thing that most sentient beings do is run the the side, not straight ahead remaining steadfastly in it's path. Honestly. Even birds work that one out when they end up in front of your car. Only Indiana Jones had an excuse, that being the tragic lack of any ability to phase through walls of solid stone.
Still trying to solve the mysterious life-cycles of the various biomorphs revealed. Every damn generation looked completely different to the previous one. Is this Evolution or Alien? I suppose it gradually absorbs the traits of its hosts until it finds a stable and successful form. Though many Earth species cycle between vastly different forms on alternate generations, that's much more like the facehugger/chestburster cycle we're already familiar with.
Anyway, I did enjoy the experience. It did suffer from the common problem of answering mysteries: the answers can never be as good as the mystery. That works in science, but rarely in fiction. I recalled, to my surprise, my own theory on the origin and nature of the Space Jockey pilot from the beginning of Alien. I right here in an old thread, dated 2006. Someone asked for information about the "mysterious derelict ship" from Alien. It's weird how old stuff like that, when not truly embarrassing, reads like someone else wrote it. To me, anyway. Six years! I feel old.
~
The Space Jockeys were an ancient race of starfarers known to themselves as the Desua'l-thinu//oc, which translates roughly as "Space Jockey". They were larger than modern humans, and wore a chronic expression of wistful melancholy.
They discovered the miracle of interstellar travel millions of years ago, shortly before the peak of their civilisation, which culminated with the invention of the self-recycling beer can. No longer having to march to the bin to dispose of their cans, alcohol consumption rose 638%, leading to much drunk-jockeying. One such drunken pilot was that of the Nihifa'gr-panthic, or the "Mysterious Derelict Ship" in English.
It had been transporting a small cargo salvaged from a dead colony. Contact had with the inhabitants been lost after the self-recycling beer can technology had been brought there, and many assumed that the lack of communiques was due to the drunken stupor being experienced by the rest of their race. This was not the case.
A mysterious epidemic had swept throughout the small society, initiated by the discovery of an ancient, decayed ship in the nearby mountains. The colony bore evidence of terrible battles, and only a single life-sign could be found. A small, ovoid organic structure fused to a hull. It was being brought back to a more established colony populated by drunken scientists, but it never made it there.
Pissed as usual, the captain accidentally crashed into a planet along the way. A few ensigns were sent to check the damage, hoping the dent could be buffed out in time for the wet T-shirt party back home, but this was not to be. The cargo was discovered to be damaged, and further investigation revealed that:
"Yer... yeah... it sheems to be... er... hmm. I really love you, man, leshhh go ge' anudder drink."
As the crew began to disappear one by one, the last remaining Jockey, the pilot, discovered the hold filled with a sea of sticky lumps. Unsure of what to do, he returned to his chair, cracked open a cold one, and watched an interesting looking spider in the corner become progressively prettier with every sip...
~
Yeah...
In other news, I am quite alarmed once again to be the only sane man in the entire world, having been exposed to the delights and terrible nonsense of Red Leicester cheese.
It's orange.
What precisely is going on here? I know my colours. I learned them thoroughly before school. I had specific names for each hue and shade, and was thoroughly annoyed each time an adult eroneously called a turquoise sea "green".
Now I'm faced with the madness of this cheese. This is like "blue dogs" all over again. They are clearly black or grey with shiny fur. There is no blue, what insanity is this? Or "gray" horses that any fool can see are white. I don't give a damn whether their skin is black underneath, their fur is white, they look white, this is a fucking white horse, why are these so-called horse enthusiasts lying to my face? Do I look stupid and easily decieved? Is this some kind of hazing ritual directed at those unfortunate enough not to participate in the horse business while enjoying the gift of basic sight?
And now cheese has turned against me. I don't know why our recent ancestors thought it prudent to allow people who didn't even learn their rainbows to name things after their colour (real or imaginary) but it's got to stop. This is ridiculous. It's not red, it's fucking orange, and I refuse to debase myself or insult a great cheese my calling it anything other than what it really is.
These fucking cheesemakers are going to pay for this. Peace.
