Given the enormous expectation surrounding Prometheus, and since trailers have already given far too much away, I’ll try and keep this review free of major spoilers. However, if you want to go in “clean,” you shouldn’t read any further.

It’s 2089. Two archaeologists (Noomi Rapace and Logan Marshall-Green) stumble across a pictogram in a cave on the Isle of Skye. The image correlates with similar drawings discovered around the world, and is interpreted as a star-map inviting us to go and meet our makers. Dying multi-millionaire Peter Weyland (Guy Pearce) agrees to fund the mission, and so, carrying sundry scientists, the good ship Prometheus heads to the distant moon LV-223.

Coyly described by its director Ridley Scott as sharing “strands of Alien’s DNA,” Prometheus plays out in the same gothic universe as Scott’s 1979 horror/sci-fi nightmare, in which some of humanity’s most primal fears congeal. Confined spaces, conspiracies, technology run amok, rape, infection, and outer darkness.

The celebrated tagline of Alien—“In space no one can hear you scream”—implied something even more disturbing. A scream of agony is bad enough. But what if there were no one there to hear you? No one who cared that you were suffering? The characters were trapped in a world apparently bereft of God. Or if God was there, he was relating to them as a bored schoolboy with a magnifying glass might relate to a slow-moving beetle on a hot summer’s afternoon.

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