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Posted: |
Jul 25, 2013 - 4:30 PM
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By: |
Ralph
(Member)
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Scott’s classic poop-in-your-pantser is of course intense, exhausting, tummy-turning and its high tech claustrophobia started what’s now the genre’s obligatory atmospherics. Out to terrorize and wipe us out, he succeeds in sending us home giddy from the scary trip. The blockbuster sequel more than gets the job done. A master vise-gripper, Cameron makes Scott’s vision even more breathless and menacing. Not as scary — we’re aware Weaver’s Soloflexed Ripley can take care of herself, wish little Newt had screams befitting the terror she experiences and, as Joan reminds, Paxton grates. The alien bitch is like a gigantic, anorexic capsule-headed cockroach with a whiplash tail. Nightmarish special effects, the weaponry a right wing militia’s dream. Arguably “Aliens” is better than the original if unisex machismo the basis for one’s case. Looking like a scorched bathhouse for psychos, Fincher’s “Alien 3” defies its predecessors’ convenient syllogism. The fourth episode should have been the series’ burial but Scott decided on a prequel. “Prometheus” hasn’t anything to crap over; it’s all flatulence.
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