Alien 6 is a film stuck between Ridley Scott’s fascinations and a flabby, puzzle-box script which doesn’t know what to do with them. Covenant‘s most inspired moments are built around a pioneering crew of space colonists being prepared for every eventuality, but ironically having no expectation of ever encountering them because of this. The titular ship is hit by a neutrino burst early on, a random disaster which incinerates the captain in his sleep. The second in command overcompensates at the panic of suddenly being in charge, badgering his subordinates into compliance while reciting clearly rehearsed pitch-speak. Naturally, they resent him. Later, after one of the group is infected by sentient spores (which operate like the airborne xenomorph strain from William Gibson’s unused Alien 3 draft), another member panics, quarantining a distressed medic in an operating room as her patient convulses and vomits blood. One tries to remain calm, as another group attempts to return, while the other wants to bicker and scream her way out. Then, something begins bursting open the sick man’s spinal column, and the pair go silent. For a few, blissfully horrific minutes, we are treated to snapping, clawing beasts as a catch-all for the chaos which meets the hubris of settling unknown lands.
Problem is, Covenant never allows this uncertainty to overtake the film. Its other big idea, concerning Prometheus‘ David (Michael Fassbender), is the clear drive here. Here, we see the seeds of his duplicity in a prologue where he realizes the paradox in being made both “perfect” and intended to serve weaker, inferior humans. His intersection with the Covenant settlers is disconcerting: seemingly rescuing them, David takes the devastated survivors back to a citadel in the midst of Engineer corpses frozen in place like Mt. Vesuvius victims. The years between films have seen him obsess with the same kind of creation that drove mankind’s creators, resulting in a tiny, candlelit laboratory where the android practices vivisection and sketches out the results. He admits a certain disdain for his own creators in the presence of Walter–a replica model, deliberately subverted to be less than those he serves. For David, as with his quasi-ancestors, humans are nothing but resources to recycle and produce (Fassbender emphasizes “meat” when describing how the black goo infects and changes lifeforms). The result of this tinkering positions David as somewhere between Christopher Lee’s Dracula and Dr. Morbius from Forbidden Planet; a craven fiend who uses flesh to power offspring that act as his id. He is, further, intent on seizing a destiny among the stars from the squabbling, feeble flesh sacs that spawned him.
Intriguing as the idea is, harking back to Ash’s obsession with the alien‘s perfection, its introduction destroys the film. Scott, and writers John Logan and Dante Harper, burn screentime with David explaining his motivations and desires to characters who gawp and listen (despite all the clear warning he means them harm), waiting until the next alien kill gets checkmarked. Scott’s usual visual depth and elaborate set design cast off for franchise-minded exposition. If the goal here is to make David some kind of Satanic figure (there are allusions to Paradise Lost in both the film and its marketing), why make him a tour guide? Why not a background figure, allowing his victims to explore his workshop, stumbling upon traps designed to breed more horror? This approach would have at least connected the Gothic horror premise more tightly to the struggles of explorers facing the unknown, while treating the alien as a centerpiece (rather than an obligation) and maintaining tension. Instead, Covenant devolves into a stock dynastic struggle with a Giger fetish.