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It’s been weeks since we’ve been able to socialize, yet it feels like just yesterday I was on a busy city street on my way to a birthday celebration. The days are gone in a flash, but it feels like nothing ever advances. It’s almost as if we’re all floating through space, in stasis, waiting to be woken from an artificial sleep.
Perhaps the line between waking and dreaming is beginning to blur. Last night, unable to sleep at a normal hour, I sat up with the blue light of the TV flickering. Finally, long after the stroke of midnight, I went to brush my teeth and go to bed. Our dog was already sleeping soundly. The house was silent. The world was silent. Then, above the whirring of my electric toothbrush, I heard… movement, in the other room.
I peaked out of the bathroom. Nothing was out of the ordinary. The dog looked at me like, what the hell is wrong with you? I went back to scrubbing my teeth. A few moments later, plaque removed, I locked the back door. I poured myself a cup of water to put at my bedside, just as I do every night. I moved the dog’s bed into the bedroom. I returned for the cup of water. And I saw one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen in my life.
A sparrow lay dead in the middle of the floor, with two tiny puncture marks in its neck. It hadn’t been there a moment ago. Yet there it was. A fragile, dead bird had simply appeared out of thin air and was now lying on our scuffed floorboards. I leaned down to examine it, half expecting it to move or even disappear whence it came. Of course that didn’t happen. It just lay there, glassy eyed.
I looked at the dog. He looked at me.
I went to the kitchen, got a plastic bag, picked up the bird—which weighed next to nothing—took it outside and disposed of it. I came back in. The dog and I stared at each other. And then we went to bed.
Best I can figure, the bird must have flown through the open door earlier in the evening when I was grilling outside. It bided its time, quietly, in some corner, until the house grew dark, and I was brushing my teeth. Then it ventured out, and a predator attacked it in the night. It felt like an omen, even though I don’t believe in those sorts of things. The sparrow was just a touch of gothic humor—the merest hint of an extra-planar force—visiting us in the night.
Today’s Film: Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986)
Few films were as indelibly burned into my mind as 1979’s Alien James Cameron’s original tale about a space captain named Ripley doing battle against a malevolent alien force, the xenomorph. My dad showed it to me when I was nine, and the first time one of the aliens exploded from a crew member’s chest cavity, I was both hooked and horrified. Yet for all of the creativity and horror present in the original 1979 film, it was Cameron’s 1986 sequel, Aliens, which truly delivered on all of the horror and science fiction potential of the story.
There are a few reasons for this. Ripley, played to the hilt by Sigourney Weaver in both films, is more fully-realized as a tough as nails freighter captain, and in the sequel she has a bone to pick with both the alien in question and the corporation that sent her into space to begin with. The sequel begins when, after disappearing into space for decades, Ripley is found in stasis and is soon recruited to accompany a group of Space Marines on their way to a distant colony that has gone mysteriously quiet. She’s only supposed to be a strategic advisor in case they encounter the xenomorph, but no one really believes it even exists.
Naturally, it is real, and in the sequel, it’s had babies. From the moment the marines arrive on the planet, the pressure is on. They’re soon besieged, and the addition of a young girl surviving in the duct work raises the stakes even higher. Aliens succeeds as both a science fiction story and a high caliber horror movie, and the xenomorph is arguably the greatest movie monster ever created. The alien itself and production design in the movies was created by legendary Swiss painter H.R. Giger, and he perfectly marries biological horror with a dark, technological future. (Giger and his team won the 1980 special effects Oscar for the first film.)
While the first Alien is required viewing—and it is still remarkable—it is Aliens that truly holds up to repeat viewings, even 40 years later. The faint of heart may prefer to watch these movies in the afternoon with the sun shining, and those with particularly active imaginations may find themselves looking into the shadows for hidden horrors. Never fear, though. That chill down your spine is a delicious treat.
Alien and Aliens are both available to stream on HBO.
Reading List:
New York Times film critic Manohla Dargis has a great feature about classic movie musicals from the 1930s. It’s Tinsel Town at its best.
Artsy.net has a nice piece about H.R. Giger beyond the xenomorph. He was a prolific and incredibly talented artist, and the piece provides a nice survey of his work.
Benjamin Reeves is an award-winning screenwriter, journalist and media consultant based in Brooklyn, New York. Follow him on Twitter @bpreeves or write to him at breeves.writer@gmail.com.