Move over, Event Horizon. Step aside, Jason and Leprechaun. And get out of the way, Predator, because the one true space bitch is back, and she’s mad as hell. Alien: Romulus, the seventh installment in the iconic Alien franchise, is here to shake up the universe once more, and it does so with a blend of terror and mayhem that will have audiences screaming even if no one can hear them.
Ridley Scott’s original Alien (1979) launched a universe that still haunts the genre, conjuring a vision of space as a vast, uncaring abyss where humanity is at the mercy of something far older and far nastier than any corporate boardroom. James Cameron followed up in 1986 with Aliens, propelling the franchise into the realm of high-octane action while maintaining the core of its chilling DNA. Yet, as the decades passed, sequels like Alien 3 and Alien: Resurrection strayed from that path, losing sight of the series’ original thematic core. Meanwhile, the Alien vs. Predator crossover hinted at the multiverse craze years before it was cool.
Scott, ever the perfectionist, returned to the fold with Prometheus (2012) and Alien: Covenant (2017), exploring the origins of both humanity and the Xenomorphs. But now, Alien: Romulus arrives, and with it comes a fresh, yet reverential, take on the series’ legacy, thanks to the unholy alliance of director Fede Álvarez and writer Rodo Sayagues; two masters of modern horror, known for their work on Evil Dead (2013) and Don’t Breathe (2016). In the hands of Álvarez and Sayagues, the Alien franchise feels reinvigorated, yet every moment screams its true roots.
Set between Alien and Aliens, Romulus introduces us to a ragtag group of young survivors; led by the determined but terrified Rain (Cailee Spaeny), who are more or less abandoned in the corporate hellscape that is Weyland-Yutani. The young crew, most of whom lack any real engineering or scientific background, are not only thrust into the deep end of intergalactic survival, but they are also entangled in the cold, calculating greed of the very corporation that has enslaved them. In the vastness of space, where survival is a luxury, they’re about to learn the true cost of their existence, and it’s not just the cold emptiness of space that threatens them. It’s the terror.
Álvarez and Sayagues keep the tension high by grounding the horror in both the absurdity and hopelessness of their situation. This is a crew with no parents, no hope, and no way out; making their ultimate confrontation with the Xenomorphs all the more terrifying. And though the characters themselves don’t always evolve in the most believable ways (the writing, occasionally clumsy, struggles to balance character depth with necessary plot beats), the core of their plight remains compelling.
One divisive moment in the film; a nostalgic callback for long-time fans of the franchise, may strike some as overdone, a heavy-handed wink to the past that feels more like a cringeworthy nudge than a clever homage. But fear not: this is an anomaly in an otherwise impeccable production. The rest of Alien: Romulus delivers with an unflinching commitment to gore and horror, making it the bloodiest, most visceral entry in the franchise.
Under the sharp eye of Álvarez and cinematographer Galo Olivares, the film pulses with a distinct visual style. The use of red lighting, inky black shadows, and the oppressive vastness of space create a unique aesthetic; one that makes the film both beautiful and nightmarish. The scenes of terror aren’t just frightening in their content but in their craftsmanship, as if the camera itself is a witness to the horror, dragging the audience along for a nightmarish ride.
There are plenty of surprises, both in the narrative and in the execution, that will have viewers gasping in awe. When Álvarez is given the space to shine, the horror he produces is undeniable: shockingly inventive, deeply disturbing, and, at times, straight-up terrifying. For those who can stomach the bloodshed, Alien: Romulus stands as one of the best of the series; a film that reaffirms the franchise’s place at the pinnacle of horror cinema. It’s darker, meaner, and, arguably, more beautiful than ever before.
For those lucky enough to see it in IMAX or any large-screen format, this is a film that demands it. The contrast between the vast, isolating silence of space and the thunderous, heart-pounding terror of the Alien creatures is amplified tenfold, making the experience unforgettable.
In the end, Alien: Romulus proves that, even after decades of evolution, the franchise still has the teeth to deliver pure, unadulterated fear. Highly recommended for any fan who remembers what it’s like to be scared out of their mind.
