‘Alien 3’ At 30: Still A Massive Downer!

Thirty years ago moviegoers sat down for what they reasonably expected would be one of the year’s most thrilling adventures. Following Alien, the greatest horror movie in space, then Aliens, the greatest action movie in space, the stage was set to cap the trilogy. In advance of the release, Sigourney Weaver made news for a $4 million payday (unheard of for an actress at the time) and also hit magazine covers with a bold, shaved head look — years before Demi Moore did something similar for G.I. Jane. Alien 3 was going to be a blast, no?

No.

Alien 3 was (and still is) a massive downer, an ugly film to look at, and mired in general nasty vibes. But it isn’t worth totally ignoring, as there are a lot of interesting ingredients stirred in there. Some of it is from a “how did this get made?” point of view, but that only makes it more fascinating.

It all starts with bad news. After Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver), Hicks (Michael Biehn), the android Bishop (Lance Henriksen), and the little girl Newt (Little Girl actress) escaped the baddies on LV-416 in Aliens, we learn they weren’t alone as they went into cryosleep. Everyone but Ripley is dead. Not long into the movie, when audiences still had warm buttered popcorn in their laps, filmgoers were treated to a chest-cracking autopsy of the cute li’l 10-year-old from the last movie. Mainstream entertainment!

Where is Ripley, exactly? On a prison planet, surrounded by rapists who, just hearing that a woman is in their midst, are sent into paroxysms of rage. Indeed, Ripley is nearly gang-raped by some of the prisoners, who we’re later supposed to cheer for as they battle the xenomorph. It didn’t click then, and it certainly doesn’t click now.

Alien 3 was David Fincher’s first feature film as a director, and he’s certainly gone on to prove himself since this ignominious start. He inherited this after other attached directors bombed out, and the script kept him trapped in ugly looking sets that make sense for the story, but just start to hurt your eyes after a while. A lot of brown corridors, a lot of grime. (It’s a giant foundry of some kind, which means metal staircases and sliding doors.) The prison itself is drab, cheap-looking, and uninteresting. I say unto you, Stuart Gordon’s Fortress starring Christoph Lambert, a B-picture from around the same period, features a far more visually stimulating futuristic prison.

So what are the good elements of this movie? Well, a few of the kills are wild (poor Charles Dance— he was the only nice person in the whole movie!) and then there’s the shot of Ripley, seated against a wall, terrorized, as an alien comes up to the side of her face, opens its mouth with clear, oily liquid dripping all over the place, only to reveal… a mini-alien head inside! Ugh, it’s so gross! And so great. Indeed, you could make a case to say that this is the quintessential Alien image from the entire franchise.

And then there’s Charles S. Dutton. At the time, Dutton was mostly known for the sitcom Roc, but as the badass fundamentalist preacher Dillon he is the most electrifying presence (human or otherwise) in the whole picture. (Here’s where I point out that Sigourney herself doesn’t have the “oh, I’m sick of it all” anguish of the first two movies, and she leans into the “get the hell out of my way” anger better in the next film, Alien: Resurrection.) Dillon is a criminal with a code, who has come to religion in his exile, and teaches a kind of tough, end-of-days, style of love. I’m not sure his total philosophy is made explicit, but it’s a mesmerizing performance.

It’s interesting because it is rare for an action-adventure movie to get into topics like restorative justice and prison reform. Also, it is no secret that Dutton himself spent many years inside on a manslaughter charge as a young man. In jail he read an anthology by Black playwrights that got him taking drama classes upon his release.

David Fincher, who later made Zodiac and The Social Network, has essentially disowned the movie. There is a Blu-ray cut that is about 30 minutes longer, and some prefer it, but I say all it does is drag out the inevitable—a lackluster retread of the franchise’s formula. As with the previous movies, “the Company” wants its hands on one of those menacing aliens, thinking they can convert it to a weapon. Any human lives in the way of this goal, including their own employees, are expendable.

This is where the biggest bummer comes in. Ripley comes to realize that she was, in her words, “violated” while in cryosleep, and will give birth to a Queen. Pan-galactic death grows within her, and she knows she must make the ultimate sacrifice. (And extend her arms in a Christ metaphor when she does it, too.)

The Alien franchise has always been revered for showing kick-ass women in a male-dominated genre. Using pregnancy as Ripley’s final battle does make a kind of logical sense. But … aren’t these movies supposed to be fun? This was a late May release, right before summer, perfect for date night, let’s check out bald Sigourney Weaver saving the day. Right? How hard is it to make a movie that isn’t so depressing?

The truth of the matter is that after Alien and Aliens, the rest of this franchise was always just chasing that high. Alien: Resurrection at least had some humor and Alien vs. Predator, ridiculous that it is, is pure goofy popcorn. But none are essential, and don’t get me started on those prequels.

Nevertheless, 30 years is a good stretch of time to take a second look at Alien 3 if it’s been a while, especially considering what David Fincher would later achieve. I wish the movie were better, but it is good for at least one thing—a reminder to never, ever work for the Weyland-Yutani Corporation.

Jordan Hoffman is a writer and critic in New York City. His work also appears in Vanity Fair, The Guardian, and the Times of Israel. He is a member of the New York Film Critics Circle, and tweets about Phish and Star Trek at @JHoffman.