That Rumble in Your Stomach

There is absolutely nothing wrong with mindless entertainment at the movies during the summer.

But that begs a question...

Can a film be too mindless? 

Yes, and I offer to the court "Exhibit A."  Director Ridley Scott's new offering for 2012, "Prometheus."   A movie that is so bad that...well, it's so bad.

I'm not one to automatically see one of these top-heavy-with-special-effects films as I am not exactly in the target demographic.  While I am male, I am not between the ages of 18 to 24, I don't spend every waking hour on video games, and I have an IQ over 50.  But, I got drawn to "Prometheus" by the pedigree of the director.  He made the wonderful "Alien" and this is allegedly a precursor to that movie.  Hmmm.  Plus Roger Ebert gave it a sterling review.

That's the last time I listen to him.  And I'd punch him in the jaw if only he had one.

Now, the biggest difference between the superlative work that Scott did with "Alien" and the pile of vomit that is "Prometheus" is quite a simple one.  In the 1979 classic that got a digital reboot and director's cut about ten years ago, you never really saw what was after those intrepid space travelers.  You actually had to use your imagination and the horror was in what you didn't see as opposed to what you could really visualize.  Oh, sure, you had the moments of gore where those little creatures popped out of whoever's stomach.  But, for a sci-fi horror movie, the special effects were surprisingly at a mininum.

Not so in the awful "Prometheus."  All of it is up there on the screen and ready to give you the most massive migraine headache you've ever had.  The movie probably cost about 200 million dollars and not one nickel was spent on creating a story or a script.  As a result, you have incredibly unlikeable and un-motivated characters ping ponging around with zero purpose, except to waste two hours of your time.  And, if you happen to be seeing this swill in 3-D, you're also stuck paying a premium price for those glasses that really haven't worked since Vincent Price made the "House of Wax" in 1953. 

What's the plot of this movie?  Your guess is as good as mine.  They're flying around in a spaceship that is named "Prometheus."  Ah, there's the only logical thought Scott had.  They land on a planet.  Or is that the Inland Empire?  It's hard to tell.  Why are they there?  You got me.  Except, as soon as they step out onto the planet or maybe Rancho Cucamonga, they are immediately bedeviled by sinister forces.  Everybody uses the word "contagion" a lot, as if somebody thought that movie was any good as well.

Almost immediately, we see crawly creatures that get into the spacesuits of these people we don't like.  Not a good thing.  Because eventually after getting into your pants, they also slide into your body and, like a faulty gastric lap band, they bloat you up until you explode.  I would tell you not to see "Prometheus" on an empty stomach but better you skip the movie altogether and have a nice, long dinner instead. 

The cast is peppered with a lot of unknowns, which is good because I never wanted to see any of them again anyway.  Charlize Theron bounces around in a skin tight leotard and obviously doesn't know how to parlay Oscar success into better roles.  I recognized Patrick Wilson but he's so covered with prosthetics that he looks like Joe Biden with a bad case of eczema.  The rest of the characters are nobodys, which means they still are after the release of this backed-up-toilet-of-a-film. 

In one of the most implausible moments ever captured in motion picture history, one of the female characters uses robotic surgery to give herself a caesarean birth.  Then, thirty seconds later, she's running around the desert and firing a laser gun.  Yeah, that would happen.  Even the most rigorous of core strengthening wouldn't get a normal gal out of bed that quickly.  But, then again, there's nothing even remotely normal in "Prometheus."  One character has his head ripped off and continues to talk for the next half-hour.  Try to pass that logic onto either Marie Antoinette or Jayne Mansfield.

Meanwhile, gooey creatures pop out of people's stomaches with regularity.  Or would that be acute irregularity?  There are more disturbing births in this movie than there would be nine months after a blackout on the south side of Chicago.  And all of it is designed to set up countless sequels which I will avoid like the plague, which is more than I can say for all the characters of this film.  By the end, everybody is dead.  That includes half of the audience in the theater. 

It's ironic that we spent an uncomfortable and horrific two hours in the theater watching stuff pore out of all sorts of body extremities.  Because the worst injustice of all may be what director Ridley Scott has just pulled out of his ass. 

Dinner last night:  Leftover chicken sausage and vegetables.