Okay, so let’s talk about Ridley Scott’s Prometheus. I don’t normally put this much thought into needless speculation, but I can’t recall ever being this excited about a film, other than maybe Revenge of the Sith. Some of my earliest memories are of watching Scott’s Alien for the first time, and then Cameron’s 1986 sequel. (My folks were pretty lenient about what I could watch, and I’m thankful as hell for that. Imagine if I’d been limited to watching children’s programming; probably I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing today. Besides, nightmares ain’t so bad.)

Anyway, I’ve had my theories for a while about what might happen in the flick, based mostly on watching the trailer ten or so times. I watched the 2003 Director’s Cut of Alien on Blu-ray just last week, and today I watched the original ’79 theatrical version with Scott’s 1999 DVD commentary track. Between the two viewings, I’ve noticed quite a few things that lead me to some conclusions about what Prometheus might entail.

The first viewing, years after I’d last seen the film, I noticed that the xenomorphs’, or Giger creatures’, eggs are veiled not only in an atmospheric “mist,” as Kane calls it, but also by a kind of barrier. Then the action that triggers the first facehugger’s actual hatching is when Kane physically touches the top of the egg.

After listening to the ’99 commentary track by Scott, he seems to confirm my conclusion, which is this: the eggs are in a containment field — or, as Scott calls it, a kind of “placenta” — that has kept them preserved and sustained for quite some time.

Furthermore, Scott offers his basic explanation of the relationship between the xenomorph eggs, the Space Jockey, and the Derelict. He feels that the Space Jockey must be one of a once larger crew who have obviously been dead for a long time, but jokes that he has no idea what happened to the others (this, I think, was probably the creative impetus for doing this pseudo-prequel in the first place, but I digress). The eggs, then, must have been — according to Scott’s explanation — weaponized creatures on board as military cargo.

So: While I don’t think we will get to actually see any Giger aliens on-screen in Prometheus, I certainly think we’ll see a facehugger or two, or at least the eggs themselves. If I recall correctly, there is a hole in the deck of the Derelict’s bridge, which looks to have been eaten away by acid prior to the Nostromo crew’s arrival; that suggests that someone in Prometheus will probably get attacked by a facehugger. My partly unfounded estimate, though, is that no one in the film will actually get a xenomorph embryo successfully implanted inside them.

Scott has said that the film contains a scene comparable in effect to the infamous chest-birthing scene from the original film, and elsewhere mentions something about a character performing a C-section on herself. This doesn’t sound like something that would work for ridding oneself of a xenomorph, since it hatches from the chest, rather than the uterus.

My theory, purely speculative, is that the Space Jockey is . . . either Charlize Therone’s character, who we see little of in the trailer, or David, the android played by Michael Fassbender. His character feels ominous and morally ambiguous in the various viral campaign videos that have cropped up online, and moreover, the trailer seems to suggest that the antagonist in this film will be born from a sticky green goo of sorts, which might lead to a kind of Invasion of the Body Snatchers-style symbiosis, which in the arena of science-fiction cinema could radically alter a character’s appearance.

If David’s body is composed of Gigeresque “biomechanical” components, or even synthetic DNA, then it doesn’t seem too much of a stretch to think that the Space Jockey might be the result of alien DNA meshing with humankind’s synthetic biotech work. (Plus, I think it would be cool to watch an android merge with an alien symbiote and then rebel against its human creators.)

I imagine Fassbender serving as a stand-in for the similar Ash character, or even the villainous “Archos” from Daniel H. Wilson’s Robopocalypse, who remarks:

You humans are biological machines designed to create ever more intelligent tools. You have reached the pinnacle of your species. All your ancestors’ lives, the rise and fall of your nations, every pink and squirming baby — they have all led you here, to this moment, where you have fulfilled the destiny of humankind and created your successor. You have expired. You have accomplished what you were designed to do.

Chilling, right? Almost as chilling as Fassbender’s one-liner, “Big things have small beginnings.” Again . . . I don’t think I’m stretching this too far. Besides, the original Scott film begins with the Nostromo answering a distress signal of unknown origin, which leads them to the Derelict, where they conclude that it was sent by the Space Jockey itself. I could see Scott ending the film with an android-alien abomination dying, perhaps at the hands of a facehugger or one of the main protagonists, sending one last cry for help across the stars, toward Earth and humanity — who send the crew of the Nostromo and Ash, years later, on a suicide mission to bring home an unstoppable militarized alien . . .

I know that it’s maybe more logical on the surface that the Space Jockey is the intended pilot of the Derelict, but I don’t think so. That the film takes place on LV-223 instead of LV-426 suggests the Derelict may originate underground in LV-223 and later get commandeered by either a protagonist or David-in-Space-Jockey-form. Talk in the trailer implies that the sticky green goo invited humankind to LV-223, so I’m thinking the goo needed a biological host in which to rise again. David, unfeeling for humankind, would probably be more than willing to show them the way home — to Earth.

Anything else is either too obvious to mention or too nebulous to back up with anything resembling even the flimsiest of evidence. What y’all think? Is this movie gonna kick ass or what?

One of the presumptions I make with this blog thing is, anyone who comes here and reads this puppy probably values my opinion somewhat. Another is, most folks who read this will already be reading horror novels and other fantastic fiction year-round, so instead of tossing out some ideas about what to read this Halloween, I’ll give you my prescribed list of the ten best fright films ever, ’cause, you know, I wouldn’t want you wasting your time watching bad movies:

1. George A. Romero’s Creepshow (1982). This fun, campy tribute to the old horror comics of the 1950s and -60s is scripted by none other than terror maestro Stephen King, who stars in the film alongside his son, writer Joe Hill, Ed Harris, Hal Holbrook, Leslie Nielsen (in one of his most memorable performances ever!), and Ted Danson.
2. Frank Darabont’s The Mist (2007). This tale of cosmic terror, starring Thomas Jane, Laurie Holden, Toby Jones, and Marcia Gay Harden (in a role to rival the villainy of even Anthony Hopkins’s Hannibal Lecter, or Darth Vader), follows the harrowing struggle of a father and son trapped in the supermarket — as if that isn’t horrifying enough! — during a mist-borne invasion of otherworldly terrors. What is terrifying isn’t necessarily the interdimentional spiders, mammoth insects, or even the Lovecraftian Behemoth-Flea-Thing, but rather the individuals who polarize and wage war among a microcosm of humanity (inhumanity?).
3. Michael Doughert’s Trick ‘r Treat (2007). Brian Cox, Dylan Baker, and Anna Paquin bring unforgettable performances to this episodic web of interwoven terrors. A kind of Halloween-themed Creepshow homage, this film shines on the basis of a solid, tightly woven (if a little understated, or even vague) script and some genuine scares.
4. John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978). I don’t call myself a purist, and I’m definitely no snob when it comes to picking films, but I’ve so far refused to watch Rob Zombie’s modern retelling of the classic Michael Myers film that launched the “slasher-flick” subgenre that has come to define horror cinema in recent decades, for better or worse. A chilling soundtrack, an organic story that flows like a deep, deep knife wound, and career-defining performances by veteran actor Donald Pleasence and a young Jamie Lee Curtis make this timeless film both a visceral and psychological exploration of evil that will live on long after its imitators have faded into obsolescence.
5. Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow (1999). Perhaps Burton’s most underrated, and subtly terrifying work, Sleepy Hollow is rich beyond measure with atmosphere, stellar performances from a mind-blowing cast, and convincing studies of supernatural tropes such as witchcraft, the undead, and that cheerful little place we call Hell. Stars Johnny Depp, Christina Ricci, Miranda Richardson, Jeffrey Jones (Edward Rooney from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off), Emperor Palpatine — er, Ian McDiarmid, Michael Gough (the original Alfred Pennyworth), Michael Gambon (Dumbledore!), and Christopher Walken, minus his head.
6. Dennis Iliadis’s The Last House on the Left (2009). Iliadis takes first-time director Wes Craven’s brilliant 1972 premise and gives it the visceral, adrenal, downright savage production it deserves. A young girl is brutally raped after watching her friend get stabbed to death in shockingly believable fashion. When she shows up at home, bloody and too exhausted to speak, her parents realize they’ve been giving shelter to the most vile band of murdering rapists — played brilliantly by Garret Dillahunt, Aaron Paul, and Riki Lindhome — they’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. Revenge ensues.
7. Mary Lambert’s Pet Sematary (1989). Stephen King adapted the script from his own novel of the same name, so one would almost be better off just reading the damn book — a masterpiece of macabre literature — but since it’s Halloween and movies are the flavor of the night, this haunting little film should keep you up all night. Or for several. Fred Gwynne (of Herman Munster fame) plays the cautionary-uncle figure Jud Crandall, who knows the secret of the Pet Sematary — and warns Louis Creed (played by Dale Midkiff) of the dangers of playing God through ancient, death-defying magic. I remain convinced to this day that this is the film that warped my young, impressionable mind as a child; it’s the reason why I “write this awful stuff.”
8. Ti West’s The House of the Devil (2009). A retro horror flick reminiscent of the 80s but twice as good as anything that inspired it, The House of the Devil is a suspenseful tale of a Satanic cult seeking a babysitter for a job that doesn’t involve children. One of the most satisfying — and downright unforgettable — climaxes in the history of horror cinema.
9. John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982). This exploration of the alien other, of Cold War-era paranoia, and of humanity’s dissolution in the face of unthinkable terror is one of the finest horror films ever crafted, not because its special effects are stunningly real (they’re not), or because the acting is Oscar-worthy (most of the performances are merely workable, with the exception of Kurt Russel’s and Keith David’s), but because it deals with abstract sociological concerns on a microcosmic scale, and with unparalleled brilliance. The description of the alien, and the scene toward the film’s middle, when one of the humans bares its alien instincts in an inhuman shriek, and is set swiftly ablaze with a flamethrower, make for one of the most thought-provoking portrayals of science intersecting with a deeper, psychological brand of horror that ends on a resonant, haunting chord more than worth the price of admission.
10. Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960). Janet Leigh’s infamous shower scene, punctuated with the artful dilation of her pupils and the spiral washing of her blood (rendered black, due to the film’s appropriate lack of color) down the drain, is one of the most memorable moments not only in the history of horror and suspense, but in all of cinema. Anthony Perkins’s portrayal of quiet, repressed sociopath Norman Bates — and, let’s not forget, mother up in the bedroom window — is another example of a performance that will outlive most of its predecessors, excepting only the likes of Hopkins’s Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon. Vince Vaughn’s performance in the contemporary remake is by no means bad, but I have to argue that it’s yet another example of a modern film reboot that is simply unjustifiable, artistically and otherwise.