Who do I have to fuck to get off this boat?
Alien Resurrection is a profound example of strained, nasally congested “good-enough”. They say the best movies always look as though they came together all by themselves. Effortless, and magical. Well, Alien Resurrection looks as though it was very carefully crafted from a set of logarithmic parameters, input into a Movie Calculator, and the results processed by an army of technicians, craftsmen, artists, a French director, and H.R. Giger‘s forgotten royalty checks. In short, it looks deliberate; full of effort, not magical. A formula. A formality. A filmmaking exercise in “good-enough”.
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