Review
Aliens
Culture
Film & TV
Monsters
5 min read

Alien, Nietzsche and the death of dread: why the franchise lost its fear

Alien: Earth forgets what made the original so terrifyingly profound
A young woman pets the head of an alien
Don't pet the alien.
26 Key Productions.

The credits are rolling on Alien: Earth and all I can think about is Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche is one of history’s most enigmatic and misunderstood philosophers, one of Christianity’s greatest foils and explains exactly why the TV series, to my mind, fell flat. 

Oh, how excited I was for Alien: Earth! It looked like someone had finally nailed the look and feel of Ridley Scott’s original Alien and paired it with a script by Noah Hawley (who wrote, among other things, the first series of Fargo, which I still think is one of the best series of TV ever made). I couldn’t wait.  

But far from understanding what made the original Alien so terrifying, Alien: Earth manages to undermine the franchise’s key premise at almost every turn, resulting in something truly baffling. While Alien is a deeply nihilistic piece of art that draws on its nihilism for its thoroughgoing sense of dread and unease, Alien: Earth is too cute, too pleased with itself to be truly nihilistic. And therein it loses the power to shock that Alien wielded so effectively.  

Let me explain what I mean. (Spoilers ahead for both Alien: Earth and Alien – although Alien came out in 1979 so if you haven’t seen it at this point, where have you been?) 

“God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?” 

So declares ‘the mad man’ in Nietzsche’s The Gay Science, giving rise to one of philosophy’s most quotable moments. Nietzsche isn’t talking about a literal ‘death of God’ (he didn’t think there even was a God to kill!). Instead, he’s talking about the death of belief in God.  

But, for Nietzsche, society’s collective loss of belief in God is not a trivial thing. It’s not like realising Santa Claus isn’t real (sorry if anyone was still clinging to that!). No, belief in God gave society structure, purpose, and meaning. Without belief in God, society needs to start from the very beginning and give itself these things all over again. We cannot stop believing in God and imagine that the rest of our lives are untouched.  

For all Nietzsche’s faults – which are numerous – he is clear about the implications of what we might now call ‘secularisation’, in a way that is seldom recognised. In this respect, I often wonder if Nietzsche is the only real atheist who ever lived.   

There is no grand ‘why’ behind the world. No objective meaning or structure to it: we must instead impose our own, individual meaning onto our lives. 

Alien is a deeply Nietzschean film. The xenomorph (that is, the eponymous alien) does not come with a ‘why’. It has no motives other than to kill; no grand plan. It’s not really a villain, in this sense: it just … is. It is the chaotic unstructured whirlwind of a universe without God distilled into a creature. 

It is pure, nihilistic, Nietzschean nightmare fuel.  

At the end of the film, Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) doesn’t ‘defeat’ the xenomorph; she just sends it into space and escapes. She doesn’t ‘overcome’ this nihilistic creature, she just about manages to escape with her life. She does what Nietzsche encourages us all to do and lives despite meaningless chaos of the godless world around us.  

This is not what happens in Alien: Earth, however. The most telling parallel between Alien and Alien: Earth is the role science and technology plays in both. In Alien, the mysterious Weyland-Yutani company wants to capture the xenomorph to use it as a bio-weapon. But the xenomorph resists such human categories and just does what it does: kill, indiscriminately.  

In Alien: Earth, again the xenomorph is seen as a potential weapon, as a potential piece of technology. And … that’s exactly what it becomes. The main character in the show – Sydney Chandler’s Wendy – a little girl whose consciousness is put into the body of a robot (to cut a long, tedious story short), eventually learns the xenomorph’s language and even befriends the creature. By the end of the series, the two have effectively teamed up, with Wendy siccing (setting) the alien on her enemies. 

Excuse me? 

She … ‘sics’ the xenomorph on people? Becomes its friend? Right … 

The first time this happened I full-on laughed at the screen. This is so far removed from the utter nihilism of Alien. Here the xenomorph has agency, motivations, preferences, and even flipping friends! It is so deeply … unscary.  

And that shouldn’t be a surprise. In Alien, Nietzsche’s godless anarchy is distilled into a creature of pure terror. In Alien: Earth, that creature is literally made someone’s pet. Alien continues to terrify because it shows us something of the full implications of what it is to be without God: a world of disorder, anarchy, and chaos. Alien: Earth domesticates that entirely and puts it on a leash. In so doing, lacks all of the potency of its muse.  

In his recent book Dominion, Tom Holland (no, not that Tom Holland) reminds us of what Nietzsche said long ago: our values, ethics, and even our society structures, come from a shared and historic belief in God. Too often we want to have those values, ethics, and structures without the theologies that underwrite them.  

Alien: Earth wants to have its cake and eat it in precisely this same way. It wants to tell a story about a marauding, indiscriminate predator … that can be tamed by a little girl. It fails to scare because it undermines the deeper, even more terrifying story underneath Alien: that without the structure afforded us by belief in a creator, there’s no God out there to hear us scream.

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Review
Culture
Digital
Film & TV
Work
5 min read

Heaven can wait: the gig economy can’t

Good Fortune skewers modern work culture with a celestial twist

Giles is a writer and creative who hosts the God in Film podcast.

A film character talks to an angel in the street who has wings on the back of his coat.
Aziz Ansari and Keanu Reeves star.
Lionsgate.

Good Fortune sees a well-meaning but rather inept angel named Gabriel meddle in the lives of a struggling gig worker and a wealthy venture capitalist, with unpredictable results.  

The film follows Arj (Aziz Ansari), a frustrated documentary editor who is unable to get any steady employment and has been relegated to working in the gig economy, bowing and scraping to all app users for fear that they’ll give him a one-star review. Arj has resulted to sleeping in his car and is only one step away from being completely destitute. After a short trial period working as a personal assistant for bumbling millionaire Jeff (Seth Rogen) that ends badly, Arj reaches the end of his tether. Out of the blue, an angel named Gabriel (Keanu Reeves) appears to Arj, trying to show him that his life has meaning. In order to convince him, he swaps Arj’s life of poverty for Jeff’s of luxury in an attempt to show him that having money won't solve all his problems. But unfortunately for Gabriel, it does solve most of his problems, and Arj does not want to swap back.                                                    

Aziz Ansari writes and directs Good Fortune, making his directorial debut. Unfortunately, while this film may promise a lot, it sadly fails to deliver. The social commentary is on point, but the laughs are spaced very far apart. It manages to accurately diagnose the problems that society faces, namely that the gig economy created by big tech has taken us back to Victorian levels of economic uncertainty for many people. But the prognosis somehow seems to lack any punch when it’s finally delivered. Good Fortune feels like a mix of Trading Places, a cynical version of It’s a Wonderful Life, with a touch of the sitcom Superstore thrown in for good measure. It wears its influences on its sleeve, but never really coalesces into its own thing. The one area it does flex its muscles is the performances.  

Ansari’s Arj voices the frustration of a generation when he says, "I did everything I was supposed to do and nothing's working out”. It is quite enjoyable when Gabriel asks him if he has learned that being rich and privileged isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and Arj vehemently disagrees. Rather than learning any particular moral lesson, Arj has simply learned that it’s much nicer to be depressed in a mansion than in a hovel.  

Seth Rogen has the hapless privileged idiot down to a science at this point; there’s something cathartic about him seeing how difficult it is for people trapped in the gig economy. “This is too hard,” he despairs, “How do people do this, without just being miserable and angry, all the time?”  

Perhaps predictably, the stand-out performance is Keanu Reeves as Gabriel. Far from being a serenely wise archangel in this iteration, Gabriel is, by his own admission, a bit of a “dumb-dumb”. The film opens with Gabriel feeling frustrated in his current role, stopping people from texting and driving at the last possible moment. Gabriel feels desperate to change the course of someone’s life for the better. Gabriel’s meddling in Arj and Jeff’s lives is not looked on fondly by Martha, his superior (played by Sandra Oh). She makes Gabriel human as a punishment, sending him on a journey of self-discovery.  

After the weighty self-importance of the John Wick franchise, it is thoroughly enjoyable to see Keanu shifting into comedy mode. His Gabriel has a touch of his Bill & Ted performance, making him a naïve idiot who lights up the screen every time he’s on it. Seeing him enjoy tacos, milkshakes and ‘chicken nuggies’, simple pleasures that are so easily taken for granted, brings some much-needed levity to a script that doesn’t always manage to rise.  

In a sense, Good Fortune writes itself into a corner and can’t quite figure out how to get out of it. It feels like there’s a lot of time floundering around for an answer, which is frustrating, even at a brisk run time of 98 minutes. If there is any area that feels under-served it’s the sub-plot with Elena (played by singer and actress Keke Palmer). Serving as the love-interest for Arj, Elena seems to be the only one clear-eyed enough to see that systemic oppression requires an organised response, and is in the halting process of forming a union. Elena is the only one able to talk any sense into Arj when she says: “I’d rather be back down there, trying to help more of us get up here”.  

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Graham Tomlin
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