Below is a letter to Ridley Scott, outlining my vehemence towards Prometheus.
Dear Ridley Scott,
On the subway platform today I encountered a puddle of urine. It was a full puddle, not a child’s accident but a deliberately left behind pool of piss. Why, with security cameras and people everywhere, did the perpetrator think this was a good idea? Does anybody care; did anybody watching give a damn or just think “another day in New York?” That’s how I felt after watching Prometheus today—I felt like you flipped me the bird and left a putrid puddle of piss sitting at my feet.
Remember that South Park episode where the movie trailer said “whatever, you’ll pay to go see it…fuck you?” That’s what I felt you said with Prometheus. You and 20th Century Fox promised a good movie beforehand—what happened? You directed Blade Runner and, like an alchemist, turned Dan O’Bannon’s screenplay for Alien into cinematic gold. The last good thing you did was Thelma and Louise; I think you hit your peak in 1991.
Now, where to start with Prometheus: the bad story or the bad visuals? Ok, not all the visuals were awful but the CGI humanoid aliens looked completely fake. Did you sign off on the CGI because you ran out of money or because you actually saw that as good? If you thought it looked good you’ve lost your ability to perceive. In that case stop making movies. It embarrasses you and I feel stupid when I fall for it and even though I saw it coming I took the bait anyways. That’s on me.
Even returning to the world you created in Alien but leaving H.R. Giger’s aliens out is fine. Working within a larger science fiction universe is acceptable—it’s your creation. But where Blade Runner asked me about being human, allowing me to ponder this, Prometheus tried answering it’s own existential questions. You must think your audience is stupid so you threw in a bunch of flashy graphics and wagged your dick at the audience, counting their money in your head the whole time. Like the subway urinator you’re exposing yourself in public and getting away with it.
The few shots of the ship in the trailer looked dumb but I dismissed it, holding out hope. That was shattered after the first fifteen minutes, ten of which only had Michael Fassbender as an android watching Lawrence of Arabia and studying. That was great and he only said a few words. Granted, they were in another language or repeating Peter O’Toole’s lines but it worked. If the movie was two hours of Fassbender watching Lawrence of Arabia it would’ve been better than Prometheus.
And what’s with the abortion scene? You even avoided the word abortion, calling it a caesarian instead, when it was clearly an abortion. The alien baby was just an abortion survivor. What about the silly squid alien sticking the tentacle penis down people’s throats, killing them with oral penetration? I thought Frank Miller had phallic issues but this is something else, killing with oral sex. Kids in Japan read that kind of stuff on the school bus and Cronenberg would’ve done it with style.
To surmise, you had a large budget, worked with Oscar winning actors and had a good idea yet still managed to screw it up. There was an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation where everybody’s racing through the universe looking for the secrets of life, finding all the aliens who hate each other are actually brothers. You took that and threw in a monster. Actually, even your best work, Blade Runner, is taken from Philip K. Dick, proving you don’t have an original idea in your head. You craft good movies when the source material is excellent. Then again, you made Hannibal and Robin Hood so what does that say?
In short, stop making movies. At least Bob Dylan had the guts to do a Victoria’s Secret commercial when he was out of ideas, saying, “that’s it, I’m done.” Granted, he looked like a creepy pedophile in the ad but knew it; he was in on the joke. But you keep going, thinking the diarrhea you edit together into a narrative is genius. It isn’t. You’ve made your money, retire to an island somewhere and spend your winter years pretending you made good movies once, sipping Mojito’s or whatever it is you enjoy drinking—it’s obvious something has destroyed your ability to comprehend correctly and I’m hoping it’s the drink instead of your overall intellect.