Prometheus Forum
We are the Gods now
Misc Prometheus Stuff
  • WintergreeneWintergreene  
    Vodi said:

    Damon Lindelof video interview from 'On The Verge'

    Damon talks "Alien, Ridley Scott, prequels, and what exactly happened on the island (fair warning, there are a ton of Lost spoilers)."

    Thanks to seeasea!
    Great interview with Lindelof! Love how he says if Prometheus sucks its his fault!
  • TerraformerTerraformer  (2 like this)
    i was thinking. i watched alien last night and realized that the nostromo picked up the Derelict transmission; i wonder if there will be any references or even the crew of prometheus picks up the same signal. Because they are in the same star system after all arent they?
    Any views, opinions or comments by Terraformer are not those of and purely for entertainment purposes only and not to be taken seriously and not to be read by anyone.
  • xinauxinau  
    antovolk said:

    Full 30-min Prometheus interview with Lindelof (from The Verge, they did a 1hr interview with him, only 20min shown on On The Verge)

    Thanks Anton, absolutely required viewing.

    Damon's a good guy.

    "If Lindelof's script sucks I will wage my own personal jihad on the man and not rest until the streets are flowing with the blood of him and his children." -- ViGiLaNzA on IMDB
  • VodiVodi  
    Guy Pearce interview with Esquire
    CANNES, France — Guy Pearce is no stranger to harsh realities, going back to L.A. Confidential and his relentless hunter in Memento. But his work lately is looking particularly grim, if also extremely rewarding: There was last year's Animal Kingdom, and his two latest projects, Lawless, showing at this week's Cannes Film Festival, and Prometheus, the Ridley Scott sci-fi project no one can stop talking about. We talked to him here this weekend about that, and about what he'd really like to do: stay in Australia.

    ESQUIRE.COM: I was talking to some people who saw Lawless, and it was suggested that your character seems sort of, well, ambivalently gay? He takes great issue with being called —

    GUY PEARCE: A nance.

    ESQ: Exactly. And then in the scene with Jessica Chastain, when he says, "I don't drink from a dirty — "

    GP: "I don't drink from a greasy cup." Well, that's implying that she's a slovenly woman, because he's a married man. I think his preening and such, and also when I turn up to Shia [LaBeouf], and I say, "Oh, you're a peach" — it would make sense that people would ask that question. But if he is a homosexual, it's incredibly repressed.

    ESQ: And the lack of eyebrows? Was that a period detail I missed?

    GP: No. We wanted to create a strangeness. And a vanity. I think when people are repressing things, or burying things, that can manifest in all sorts of ways. Funny enough, if you are looking at people these days who are putting Botox in their face and getting all sorts of plastic surgery, we look at them and go, I can tell you've had Botox. I can tell you've had plastic surgery. You look really strange to me. But no one's saying anything. We're just accepting the fact that they're strange-looking. In a similar way, I think [Special Agent Charlie Rakes in Lawless] has an obscure sort of ego that is keeping him buoyant, as hideous and despicable as he is. He's just gone too far with things. There were even descriptions in the script about the dyeing of the hair.

    ESQ: And the hair part, too?

    GP: Not the part. That was my idea. From a photograph. [Director] John [Hillcoat] had supplied a bunch of photographs from that period, and I was like, "Whoa, look at this part on this guy. It's so severe." Everything we tried to create was kind of severe. I remember, when we were cutting my sideburns and figuring out where to stop it, the hairdresser, Calvin, said, "It would actually be really interesting to get it right up here." If you look at the period, there are some haircuts that are like that.

    ESQ: I thought he was an interesting counterpoint to your character in Mildred Pierce, which I actually just watched. It seems like both of them are unethical by the standards of the times. Like their excess defines them.

    GP: I don't know how relevant the time period is to that. Monty [in Mildred Pierce] only comes to fruition when we see that he realizes Mildred is a stronger woman than he gave her credit for, and eventually he turns on her. That's something of the period, but it still occurs today. Men often still expect women to be under their thumb. But neither you nor I were there in 1931, so it's sort of hard to know, I suppose.

    ESQ: In its own sci-fi way, Prometheus is also about the past.

    GP: Yeah, it's interesting that Ridley [Scott] has gone back to sci-fi. I think he treats the genre better than most. You look at the original Alien, and it looks more like a horror film than a sci-fi movie. But it's a very realistic story about people, you know? And I think that's what makes his films work so well. It's a world that none of us really know, so anything could happen. And yet he gives it a sense of reality that we all can relate to. It taps into what our worst nightmares about outer space are.

    SA: From what I've seen, Prometheus looks like a more straightforward adventure than Alien, but are there any similar themes that you picked up?

    GP: I haven't seen the finished film, to be honest, and I'm only in a tiny snippet of it, so it would be hard for me to say. From memory of the script I read, there are a bunch of elements that relate, but I think he's looking at much bigger, grander things in this than were in the original Alien. And not just to get it away from being a prequel, but I think he's had a longer period of time to decide what he wants to make his next science-fiction film about. I would say it doesn't really operate on the same level as Alien. The ideas in Prometheus, the questions about where we come from, I think are so monumental and powerful. I think Ridley was pretty ready to put a lot of that previous stuff aside and say, "This is a lot more interesting to me now."

    ESQ: The other movie I remember seeing you in recently is Animal Kingdom, and I was curious what you think of Australian cinema right now, if there's anything that people should have their eyes on.

    GP: Well, there's plenty we should have our eyes on that I'm not even aware of myself. I always think the really unfortunate thing about the Australian film industry is its lack of momentum. And I don't mean this in a derogatory way. I'm always wanting it to pick up momentum, and I'm wondering if that's even possible. I think there's probably more momentum here in the French film industry. You get little bursts of success coming out of Australia, you know — there was that Muriel's Wedding period. That was sort of the dance party. But even with Animal Kingdom — there hasn't really been a slew of things since then. Obviously, the practical issue is that an Australian makes a great film, and then they get a chance to go to Hollywood, so they go to Hollywood. For us actors, it's much easier, because we don't spend three years of our lives trying to get a movie up and running. But they do. They've got to decide to keep going in Australia or jump ship and come to the States, or do a bit of both. But I'm always amazed that they're not funding movies at home like they should. Because there are great stories to be told, and great filmmakers, and great cinematographers, and great actors, so I'm always keen to work at home. And this sounds really wanky, but you try and do what you can to help. I don't even know if I can help, but I just want to keep working at home because I really like making Australian movies. When Australian filmmakers and actors get that little sniff and taste and then they're on the plane to L.A., you think, "What a shame, what a shame," and it takes people like Fred Schepisi to go back and make a film with Geoffrey Rush and Judy Davis for good Australian films to be made.

    ESQ: Do you think doing a crime drama, like Animal Kingdom, is one way of getting your foot in the international-cinema door?

    GP: Maybe. It's unfortunate that it should have to be that way, even though I think we do crime things pretty well at home. That's a big bulk of what we do in Australia. There's a very original style to Animal Kingdom that [writer-director] David Michôd found and executed. But I don't think it should have to be that way. You know, I think back to those great films that Miranda Otto did in the '90s — The Well, and these really unusual dramas about strange parts of the country. And I think, why don't they take off? Maybe it does take something more familiar for people to latch onto. Funny enough, as great as Animal Kingdom was, I was surprised that people latched onto it like it's the only good movie that's ever come out of Australia. I was like, sure, it's great, but there are lots of other great movies being made in Australia.

    ESQ: I was really hoping The Proposition would take off.

    GP: Oh, me, too. I mean, that's my favorite film out of all the films that I've done. Definitely. That's an extraordinary piece of work.
    Thanks to seeasea
    Dave, this conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.
  • eyeswhiteopeneyeswhiteopen  

    Another thing i wondered about and which is related: How does the prometheus crew know how to find the temple structure on the planet, ergo where exactly to land? So maybe the Juggernaut is sending a warning/distress call too after the engineers new creation wreaks havoc. 


    Its funny how Guy said in another interview that his screen time is only about 1 minute long, which makes me think that thats the short time we see him in the wheelchair and the spacesuit. Right after that some transformation might occur, leaving us with a CG version of him, for which the actor wasnt needed anymore.

  • VodiVodi  (2 like this)
    Jon Spaihts talks Sci-Fi Storytelling & World Building (part 1 of 3)

    When you are ready to write something, do you look at characters first or do you look at the world you are writing in? (When you are creating a new story.)

    Jon: It's a good question. And I think, for me at least, a story is never born the same way twice. But if I had to guess the form the process most often takes, it would be that I begin with a predicament. And almost instantly that predicament calls into being a character who answers that predicament appropriately.
    In Shadow 19, a soldier sends essentially clones of himself on a suicide mission again and again, each clone knowing a little bit more, having trained a little bit more, armed a little bit better, until finally one of those clones completes the mission and comes home again, which was never supposed to happen. The character you need to send into that predicament must be a superlative soldier, because that's the virtue on the basis of which he's been called, and he must be arrogant and unwounded, untouched, a perfect solider so that in this crucible, this hell world to which he's sending copies of himself, he is humbled, he is broken, he is wounded, he becomes wiser and comes home a better man than he left.
    So, to some extent, the predicament dictates the character. In Passengers, a colony ship is flying to another world on a 120-year voyage and 30 years in, while everyone else is sleeping in suspended animation, one man wakes up too soon. And he's got to live out his life alone on this ship and die of old age before they arrive at their destination. What kind of man should that be? That guy needs to be the fellow who struggles a little bit with his own feelings so that the experience of isolation and solitude bear on him and sort of force him to become a philosopher over time. But he can't begin a philosopher, or he wouldn't have a sufficiently difficult time.
    He needs to have a yen in his heart for love so that his isolation weighs on him so that he will go and seek love, which leads to the moral crisis of the film. And he should be a guy who will try to fix his predicament technically and fail. He needs to try to get out of his problem and be unable to, which boxes him into his moral dilemma. So he's a mechanic, but not at a gifted starship-building level. He's not a nuclear physicist or a rocket scientist. He is just a mechanic. So he's got a shot of improving his lot in some ways. And maybe, if everything breaks right, at saving his life somehow. But it won't be easy. His tool set is insufficient to the task. And so he's far outside his comfort zone.
    And there again, I feel like the kind of guy that hero needed to be was called for, summoned out, really, of thin air by the predicament itself.

    He'd have to be someone who's willing to leave earth behind, too.

    Jon: Right, exactly. He's got to be somebody who'd go get on a colony ship, leaving his entire life behind so that everyone he knows will age into old age and die before he arrives. It's a grand kind of geographical suicide. And it takes some kind of break, some kind of... more than an impulse. Some real need and a yearning to lead someone to such breaks. And yet, people have done it all the time. In older days of immigration, many people from poor families in Europe came to the United States for the first time. They came a long ship's journey that took every penny they had, with no prayer that they would ever be able to afford the journey home or that any of their relatives would follow.
    They might receive a few letters, but many of those early immigrants from poor families were essentially committing suicide out of their own world to be reborn in a new world. And that impulse fascinated me. And it becomes a through line of Passengers. And that's the feedback cycle that, if you tap into it the right way, will deeply enrich your story. The predicament gives birth to a protagonist. Your protagonist character then informs a story. And if you just map the predicament without giving thought to that character, you come up with a certain scaffold. But following that character's heart, that character's bliss, that character's fear and flaws through the course of the story, you generally come up with surprising events and shapes you didn't expect when you were first outlining your technical predicaments. The two things interweave in a really beautiful way if you've got the balance right.
    I think no matter how dazzling a cinematic background you lay behind a story, you are only going to invest to the extent that you connect to the characters you are watching. There are three motives of story that matter: having something that you hope for, having something that you fear, or having a burning question that you need answered. Any one of them is sufficient. If you can have more than one of them running at one time, or all three—you can be afraid of one thing and fearful of another and desperate to understand some mystery that's been dangled in front of you, then you are maximally engaged, all three motors running.
    Lacking those three motors, what you've got is idle curiosity. "What's going to happen next? And now what's going to happen?" And idle curiosity is a very weak form of engagement. I guess you can sprinkle a little salt on that if you are putting a technological spectacle in front of the audience where they say, "Well, what can they do now? Now what can they do?" And you sort of see planets cracking in half and things transforming into robots, and what have you.
    But you bleed for a story when you see someone striving to rescue someone they love, or someone making a horrified realization that they are not who they thought they were, or that they have to make a devastating moral choice. You get into a story when it shows you a horrible new fate that can befall someone. And suddenly, a hero you've come to know is fleeing a kind of fate you never imagined before. That's investment, where you are given things to hope for, things to fear, things to wonder at.
    The other thing science fiction gives you is the emotional correlative. We all experience the daily events of life rather cataclysmically. We're fired from our jobs, we get dumped by someone we love, we chase some dream and it falls into our hands, we kiss someone we've had a crush on for a long time, something irreplaceable breaks. These experiences we have, we experience cataclysmically. It's as if one thousand-foot chasms opened up in front of us or colossal tidal waves crush us and the moon fell from the sky. We feel like that. We feel transformed into monsters.
    And science fiction allows you to externalize those commonplace emotional experiences, those commonplace emotional extremes with comparatively extreme macro events; the world can reflect your internal experiences proportionally. And I think that's what science fiction does when you are doing it best.

    Thanks to seeasea
    Dave, this conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.
  • VodiVodi  (2 like this)
    Jon Spaihts talks Sci-Fi Storytelling & World Building (part 2 of 3)

    I don't mean to jump into discussing Prometheus too early because this is such a great topic. But I asked Jon, because the way he is describing it is perfection in designing a script. But I wonder, with Prometheus, did the world come first? Did he have to say, "We exist in this Alien universe. How do we build around it?" Or did you go into it with that predicament and those motors first. And obviously, I don't want to ask what it was specifically, because we'll eventually find out...

    Jon: The universe of Alien comes with rules of two kinds. It has a certain technical lure, which has become canonical and was very well known by large population of fans. So you have to play according to those rules. It also comes with narrative archetypes. You can't return to that world and do a musical comedy, or a western, or a straight detective story, because what's the point? The world contains not only trappings of science fiction, but trappings of narrative. There are archetypes, dualities.
    In the universe of Alien, you look hard at the duality between humanity and the beast. You look hard at the duality between humanity and artificial man, the android. And that duality is always present in an Alien film. You look hard at the duality between humanity and the corporation. And that duality is always present, that rift. I think those forces need to be active in any story you tell in the Alien universe or you are breaking the franchise.
    So without tipping my hand about the nature of the dilemmas that called the characters forth, there definitely was a landscape of narrative that was kind of binding. There was going to be a corporation. There was going to be artificial humanity. There was going to be an alien menace. And there was going to be remote interstellar travel. There are also things that I think are hallmarks of Ridley's seminal first Alien film that you want to pay homage to in any film that returns that that universe.
    I think the story properly told in that universe, the menaces should be few in number but very terrible. The world should be dark and claustrophobic, and there should be many shadows and hiding places. You should be removed and isolated with no hope that help will come. You should be confronted by a sense not just of menace, but an ancient menace of stories set in motion long before your arrival that are bigger than you. I think all of those are qualities of that first film that it was very important to me to honor going forward, or in this case, going back.

    What, then, does Spaihts look to for his inspiration? What is the world inside his head populated with so that he can then populate the worlds before our eyes? And what about the world of science fiction (and movies) in general: what has changed? How is it evolving? Will we see more "space operas" again?

    Jon: Well, the stuff that is most evocative for me is the science fiction that I was reading when I was a kid, which was the postwar short fiction and Cold War short fiction that was written in a world still trembling from the aftermath of WWII and the Cold War that followed.
    And in that time we saw one of the most monumental depictions ever of humanity's ability to be utterly inhuman to other human beings. The possibility of genocide at an industrial or planetary scale. We saw atomic bombs used in war, weapons of mass destruction that beggared the imagination. And then we saw even greater weapons tested. The hydrogen bomb became real and two vast super powers scrawling over the globe, arming themselves with these weapons, and the possibility of destroying our entire planet became not just believable but real.
    And, at the same time, the space race began in a technological push that was inextricably tied up with the arms race between the Soviet Union and the US. We put men on the moon and looked outward at Mars and the prospect of space travel became grippingly real at the same time. And Star Trek is born in that era. So, there was this incredible tension in the psyche of every thinker in the world between the yawning abyss that had just opened up, the possibility of real destruction, real evil, civilization ending cataclysms. It put the end of the world in everybody's mind. And, at the same time, this infinitely beckoning of possibility of outward flight, new worlds, infinite future was opening up.
    So we felt the pull in both directions. And I think it created vast science fiction. I think the science fiction of that era remains some of the most powerful that's ever been written. Since then, we've become less macrocosmic.


    Jon: Yeah. We went through John Varley to William Gibson and Neal Stephenson; we looked inward. We looked inward at hacking the body, inward at hacking the brain. We dove into cyberspace. We got into the micro rather than the macro. We tunneled down into the code, into the dysgenic spiral, into the cells. And there are great questions there of identity, of the soul, of what's biological real, what the nature of humanity is precisely. But we lose the scale of the space opera that preceded it.
    I suppose what I am striving toward is a revival of the scale of the space opera in the light of all these newer developments. So I don't want to lose cyber punk and I don't want to lose web head thinking. I don't want to lose hacking the body and all of the rich questions those things bring. But I want to bring back the macrocosmic space opera with high concept driving that story.

    Is there a certain amount of hope in space opera as well?

    Jon: Yes. It has that techno-optimism.

    Something like Arthur C. Clarke's Rendezvous with Rama is all about that hope of new life and discovery, but the insidious nature of the unknown. And that's what space opera is, and that's what I've been missing. And it's so refreshing and wonderful to hear that want to revive it.

    Jon: When you look at Rendezvous with Rama, you see a tremendous tale of hope. Here's the work of a civilization far greater than ours capable of manufacturing artificial worlds and sustaining life in one way or another for eons between the stars, and are presumably engaged in travel and colonization of new worlds.
    And, at the same time, the spacecraft explored in Rendezvous with Rama is utterly alien, and unknowable, and unfamiliar, and therefore frightening. It existed on a scale that suggests terrifying things about its creators.
    Just in its potency makes it plain that there is, or at least was, some race of beings out there that could swat us like fruit flies, against whom our best tricks would be the tricks of children. And that's terrifying. Even if they are benevolent, that's terrifying.

    Not to get too off topic, but at the end of that book, what's so powerful is that they could swat us away like flies, but they don't even care to.

    Jon: Yeah, we are literally flies.

    They don't even... we think they are here for us. But we're just another blip for them. They're going somewhere else we can't even know...

    Jon: And we just crawl around like bugs on their spacecraft for a pinprick of time and disappear again. We're not even a glitch in the program.

    Is that more terrifying? I mean, I think so.

    Jon: The great fear and great dream of science fiction is that we long to be significant. The Matrix—fantastic high concept science fiction—and the horror in The Matrix is of office-cubicle insignificance of a rat race of anonymity, of being lost in the hum of modern life somewhere in an office building, in a cubicle, facing a laptop; you are nobody. And then, of course, the great fantasy of The Matrix is rising to upmost significance, to world altering messianic significance. What if you were not just someone, but "the one"?

    He's referenced some amazing works, both on the page and screen so far. But so then how does he tackle the unknown in writing sci-fi? (The unknown being such an important part of the Alien franchise, after all.) I next asked Jon specifically: "How do you display... how do you make your readers and then potentially the audience in the theater, feel the unknown if it is in fact the unknown?"

    Jon: Well, in many ways I think the less said the better when you are walking in those fields. If you want to scare people, you do so more effectively with the implied than with the shown, very often, in the same way that a noise in the dark is frightening because it engages the imagination. An incomplete story or a thing incompletely shown more readily begets fear, terror, and a sense of granger.
    So you use the tools of cinema and storytelling to set the scale of events. You show them a vast space. You give them a great noise. You let someone speak about terrifying ideas, colossal spans of time; things that are not necessarily big spatially or temporally, but can be big in their significance. The ability to make blasphemous alterations in the human essence, the human spirit, the human body. Those are horrific things. The ability to alter your memories, your soul, your character, your nature, to hack inside your head, to tamper with the input of your senses—those are terrifying things.
    You set that stage and then you signify what's happening in a way that allows the imagination of the audiences to complete the experience. And you don't over tell, you don't over show.
    Thanks to seeasea
    Dave, this conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.
  • HeadacheHeadache  

    Has this been posted yet?

    Haven't got audio on this computer, but comments indicate some sort of twist.

  • VodiVodi  (1 like this)
    Jon Spaihts talks Sci-Fi Storytelling & World Building (part 3 of 3)

    So, then, how does one know what to show? And when one knows what to show, how does one avoid or build upon what others have already shown? Can science fiction avoid repetition anymore? Should it?

    Jon: It's a split answer because one utterly true answer is that you can't. No one does. It's all been done before. There's nothing new under the sun. I do believe that's true. You can find some parallel to anything in some other work. But what people object to is not some fanatic resonance with another work or some literary parallel with another storybook film. What people object to is the sense in their gut and the visceral feeling that we've been here before, that this is just that place again; a kind of déjà vu.
    And that, I think, is mostly a danger when there is a confluence of cues lined up together to feel like you are looking at a scene you've looked at before. That means not just a similar chain of events in a similar rule set, but also treated with a similar style, maybe framed in a similar language, maybe even lit or colored or musically backed the same way. When a filmmaker is consciously or unconsciously leaning hard on specific material, the audience can smell that. If you're just seeing similar patterns emerge in storytelling, it's sort of mythical resonance, and that's in the nature of storytelling itself.
    The trick is to be alert... I think really the unconscious quotation is really more dangerous than the conscious. The critical thing is to audit yourself always for inadvertent borrowing, because that's where you are going to get in trouble—when something comes to you naturally and you feel ownership of it because it's down in your bones, and you fail to realize that it came to you because someone gave it to you one, or five, or ten years ago, and it lives in your subconscious now. And that is a tricky process.
    Everybody's heard stories of a songwriter who wrote a brilliant tune and then had a friend tell them that that was a Sinatra song, you asshole. As storytellers, we are subject to that same pitfall all the time. All you can do is be alert, try to be awake to it.
    Dave, this conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.
  • JonesycatpantsJonesycatpants  (1 like this)
    Vodi said:

    Damon Lindelof video interview from 'On The Verge'

    Damon talks "Alien, Ridley Scott, prequels, and what exactly happened on the island (fair warning, there are a ton of Lost spoilers)."

    Thanks to seeasea!

    Interesting information in this, Spaiths wrote 7 versions of the script.
    Jonesy you little're staying right here
  • tifosi77tifosi77  
    DeclanH said:

    Classy fan-made TV spot...

    I have to admit..... seeing familiar imagery with new music really revitalized the footage!

    Well done to whoever put that together.
    Perfect organism.
  • JonesycatpantsJonesycatpants  (1 like this)
    Also really great interview with Spaiths, the more he speaks the more i like him.
    Jonesy you little're staying right here
  • BonusituationBonusituation  (3 like this)
    Good interview with Lindelof.  I have a better understanding why they don't want to call it a prequel now, and I can completely get what he and Scott are getting at...with his example of Episode I-III and The Thing prequels.  True prequels lock you in to pre-defined outcomes and that limits your storytelling.  Yep, we all knew exactly how The Thing prequel was going to end, and in the was kind of a crappy experience because of that.

    But I think my interpretation of their reason is still valid  They don't want to get the hopes up of ultra-xeno-fanboys only to bash them to smithereens.
    We ain't outta here in ten minutes, we won't need no rocket to fly through space.
  • GabusMaximusGabusMaximus  (2 like this)

    Good interview with Lindelof.  I have a better understanding why they don't want to call it a prequel now, and I can completely get what he and Scott are getting at...with his example of Episode I-III and The Thing prequels.  True prequels lock you in to pre-defined outcomes and that limits your storytelling.  Yep, we all knew exactly how The Thing prequel was going to end, and in the was kind of a crappy experience because of that.

    But I think my interpretation of their reason is still valid  They don't want to get the hopes up of ultra-xeno-fanboys only to bash them to smithereens.

    Totally. That interview resolved a lot of confusion/misunderstanding I had. And on the spectrum from Neo's Architect scene, to Lost's finale scene, we can expect something closer to Lost.  Y'know, the more spoilers the better I feel about this movie. June 8th is nigh!
    "amped out war dance!!!", nivekkevin.
  • JonesycatpantsJonesycatpants  

    Russian Prometheus Promotion

    Thanks to the one and only Seeasea
    Jonesy you little're staying right here
  • homer1962homer1962  (5 like this)
    Watching the terminator on TV at the moment then during and ad break Vickers says "We paid a trillion dollars to bring you here". That $42 mil is way adjusted.
  • tgbyhntgbyhn  
    Eh, looks like I was a Johnny-come-lately posting the interview, like w/the Charlize Theron featurette.

    Anyways, Lindelof in the interview says:

    But the idea of not spelling it out entirely... I will tell you right now, the idea of this movie, even when you go and see it, there is space to debate what the relationship between this movie and Alien is.  We are not connecting the dots for you, we are giving you the requisite information to have an impassioned discussion on it.  You will know a hell of a lot more about it than you did before.  But, it's not like it's not like movie ends, with the derelict spacecraft crashing full of eggs on LV-426, which is the derelict spacecraft the Nostromo happens upon in Alien.  Umm, that's inevitability and not interesting.

    So, we can explicitly rule out one of the theories with regards to the ending of Prometheus and how it ties in with Alien.
  • xinauxinau  (8 like this)
    I think someone needs to very quietly and diplomatically tell the Fox overseas marketing folks that if it's not actually Arthur Max building you a 12-meter tall replica, you probably shouldn't try to do a scale model of the temple head yourself with local art school talent.

    "If Lindelof's script sucks I will wage my own personal jihad on the man and not rest until the streets are flowing with the blood of him and his children." -- ViGiLaNzA on IMDB
  • VodiVodi  
    Prometheus 'Cutting-Edge VFX Technology' article:
    Thanks to seeasea
    Dave, this conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.
  • TakatoTakato  
    Vodi said:

  • seanmlseanml  (1 like this)

    Someone correct me here if I'm of.

    In Aliem, the crew are awakened by the signal being picked up by the ship, on their journey back right?

    So, why did they not pick up the signal on the way past the Zeta Reticuli start system, afterall, they get the signal in the film when they are going passed it?

  • kjohnson26kjohnson26  (1 like this)
    The company had the Nostromo diverted enough to pick up the signal or they simply had Ash adjust the course to take it to Zeta 2 Reticuli, so that when the crew woke up, it would seem that the signal was enough to have Mother bring the Nostromo to that star system.
  • seanmlseanml  

    The company had the Nostromo diverted enough to pick up the signal or they simply had Ash adjust the course to take it to Zeta 2 Reticuli, so that when the crew woke up, it would seem that the signal was enough to have Mother bring the Nostromo to that star system.

    I see, so a diversion seems plausable, and ofcourse, Ash woulda' been snaeking around while evryone was in stasis.
  • eyeswhiteopeneyeswhiteopen  
    Vodi said:

    interesting read. Some things caught my attention:

    "Scott didn’t use motion capture in Prometheus, though one scene took a low-tech aproach as actors carried torches in a dark tunnel. An alien character was equipped with regular red LED markers on its joints. The actors then were able to interact with the alien, and the hand animation was added in post-production based on the LEDs."

    That is maybe a new scene we havent seen before in a dark tunnel with an engineer interacting with the crew.

    "Hemphill and Bartlett worked closely with Ridley Scott to deliver a “gritty track with highly styled acoustic environments” in this sci-fi horror film. Bartlett recorded Sanskrit syllables that were modified and used with controls, buttons, and background sounds to provide ancient language audio motifs. "

    I dont get this one. Is he talking about the controls of the Prometheus or the Juggernaut? Either way it would be quite strange.

    "There’s also a nod to Alien’s robot, Ash, in David 8’s gargly sound near the end of the film."

    RIP David


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