The H-Man

"Honda and Tsuburaya's monster films address the ghosts of the Japanese past playfully yet seriously, in a way calculated to exorcise those ghosts. They celebrate the nation, but theirs is a pacifist nationalism." -Thomas Schnellbacher, Has The Empire Sunk Yet? The Pacific in Japanese Science Fiction, Robot Ghosts And Wired Dreams: Japanese Science Fiction From Origins To Anime [2007] [p.33]-

The H-Man [1958], as in the Hydrogen man, is director Ishiro Honda's seamless blend of film noir, horror ghost story and science fiction that preceded his similar human-sized film The Human Vapour [1960]. Like Gojira [1954], and later Matango [1963], The H-Man [US title; H-Man is the recognized International title according to Toho Kingdom] delves deeply into the psychology of a director's ghosts and the subtext he continues to weave into film as informed by the horrific and haunting events visited upon a people. It marries his love for science fiction and fantasy with his deep concerns over the proliferation of nuclear weapons on a global scale. Honda, while delivering a uniquely Japanese picture of fantasy somehow manages to speak to people about these events on an international scale while entertaining and if that's "pacifist nationalism" it's also splendid cinematic spectacle.

The opening images of the film are suggestive and illustrate in image this understandably dark fascination with what was arguably a bold, horrifying new world of science in the 1950s.

A mushroom cloud, a floating boat in the dark waters symbolizing the fateful events of the Daigo Fukuryu-maru or Lucky Dragon No. 5 and its crew's exposure to radiation and nuclear fallout during American atomic testing of the Bikini Atoll, Marshall Islands, in March 1954, roughly four thousand kilometers from Japan under code name Castle Bravo. The images tell the story. The tale is undeniable truth. The nightmare and ghosts are real. From here, Honda takes us into his world where the imagination runs influenced by the affect of nuclear radiation drawn from stark reality and the fate of a fishing vessel's crew including the death of its radioman, Aikichi Kuboyama, six months later from radiation sickness.

Once again, the events of World War II and the atomic bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, as well as the events surrounding that tuna vessel during the tests on the Bikini Atoll continue to inform Honda's work. It was the spark for the subtext of Gojira and the birth of Godzilla, the mutations of shipwrecked survivors from radiated contamination in the food supply in Matango, as well as the fate that drove The Mysterians to Earth in The Mysterians [1957]. There is an undeniable continuity thematically to Honda's films. Those that would denounce the populist works of the director simply weren't paying attention.

The "Pacific setting is an important plot element" thematically as much as Honda's deep-rooted concerns with nuclear power as noted by Thomas Schnellbacher in Has The Empire Sunk Yet? The Pacific In Japanese Science Fiction from the book Robot Ghosts And Wired Dreams: Japanese Science Fiction From Origins To Anime [2007] [p.32].

In The H-Man, the ghost ship steers through the night. Something captain's the wheel of the ship, but, while death's hand is symbolized by images of atomic mushrooms, Honda alludes to something much more horrific awaiting us as we head into uncharted waters of science and technology unleashing weapons we cannot fully comprehend. It's a well-constructed rendering of reality and fiction and Honda, through Toho, was simply one of the best at building these genre tales.

Honda, combined with the scripted word of dark imaginarian Takeshi Kimura, who orchestrates one of his finest from the 1950s. With music composed by Masaro Sato [Akira Ifukube stepping aside for this one] and visual effects by the always stunning [ok, well, there was Varan The Unbelievable, but the effects were good] Eiji Tsuburaya, Honda really delivers again. The H-Man follows a string of solid pictures behind Gojira, the kaiju eiga classic Rodan [1956] and The Mysterians [the first in a classic science fiction trilogy], and now The H-Man.

The thespian triumvirate from Rodan and The Mysterians, actress Yumi Shirakawa and principals Kenji Sahara and Akihiko Hirata, return in what continues to be a clearly fruitful period in Honda history for the three actors. These three films would mark a genuine Shirakawa, Sahara and Hirata triangle before Honda shook things up a bit within the science fiction and fantasy genre. In fact, Shirakawa and Sahara were married for a period according to Stuart Galbraith IV in his book Japanese Science Fiction, Fantasy And Horror Films [p.26].

The story begins with the death of a man on a rainy evening in the city. The man vanishes leaving only his clothes behind on the rain-soaked streets.

Enter Inspector Tominaga, played with ever smooth cool by Hirata [a far different turn from his troubled doctor in Gojira]. He plunges headlong into the criminal gangster underworld to discover something far more inexplicable is in play.

The location shots and vintage era cars and uniforms make for a pleasing viewing experience. It's so refreshing to watch films untainted by the arrival of CGI. It's a marvel to look back at these classic films.

The search for a drug distributor leads them to a missing man named Misaki, but first we meet Misaki's girlfriend, Chikako Arai, played by a more ravishing-than-in-Rodan Shirakawa. She radiates, to use a word, and oozes sex appeal as a singer in The H-Man.

A nightclub scene is captured beautifully on film by Honda who would handle a similar scene on a smaller scale for Matango. While this scene rivals the aforementioned Matango, Matango is the significantly better film. Shirakawa glamorously lip syncs and genuinely shines as a kind of old-fashioned fifties starlet. Why she never embraced looking back at her time in these science fiction fantasies while under Toho's contracts and working for Honda I'll never know or understand, because they are genuinely solid pictures [see Stuart Galbraith IV, Monsters Are Attacking Tokyo]. Shirakawa beams on screen, but I've yet to see anyone out-Mizuno Kimi Mizuno, a personal favorite like many fans of the genre and an absolutely stunning beauty.

Arai is visited at the club by one Doctor Masada played with real credibility by Sahara following two very different performances in Rodan and The Mysterians. Arai gives Masada something for Misaki, but he is arrested by police. Masada explains he is a scientist studying radioactive emissions from nuclear bombs - the effect of radioactive fallout on human beings. Masada believes a phenomenon is responsible for "melting" people through radiation. Inspector Tominaga scoffs at the notion finding the scientific theory implausible. Masada explains he was seeking out Arai to determine if Misaki had ever been to the Bikini Atoll or Christmas Island. Masada is warned to steer clear of the case and released.

Arai is visited by a member of the Yakuza [Japanese mafia] at night. Her window is open. He warns her not to turn Misaki over to authorities. Upon his escape into the rain, shots are fired and all that is left behind is a gun and the man's clothing. Like the man earlier, he has melted into the rain.

Arai can't explain it to police, but she saw a "dark shadow." Nevertheless, there is little faith in her story as much as there was in Masada's hypothesis. Masada returns and the police grant the professor of Kyoto University access to Arai. Masada asks if the missing Misaki was ever on a fishing boat?

Masada takes Tominaga and detective Sakata to visit a man in a hospital who witnessed a melting. Through flashback Honda revisits the man's experience one eerie evening out on the water. A boat pulls up alongside a drifting ghost ship. Men board the ship. The sequence is handled with lamps and is positively haunting in its effective creepiness. These flashbacks, like the one in Rodan, are Honda trademarks. They are indeed bread and butter in his films. He's just terrific with them. In fact, Matango may be that good because that film is populated with these kinds of sequences and you're simply mesmerized.

While on the vessel the men are attacked by amorphous ghost-like figures who utilize a kind of radioactive primordial soup to dissolve their victims. A handful of men are killed while just a few escape. The terrific mood and vibe is capped off by the men escaping and the sight of ghosts or H-Men topside on the disappearing ship. The H-Man is limited or hamstrung to a degree by its effects, but, a few years later, Matango, on the other hand, would nail the boat and ghost ship sequences to cinematic perfection using make-up and prosthetics. The H-Man is effective but limited. Still, the ghostly figures on the deck of that ship delivers a spine-tingling moment that pre-dates, but recalls the atmospheric best of director John Carpenter's ghost story The Fog [1980].

Upon leaving the hospital Tominaga is still a skeptic chalking up the man's tales as nothing more than a sailor's story. Masada implores them not to discount the power of radiation sickness or fallout. And when Masada asks for the Ryujinmaru's logbook you know what Honda and Kimura are shooting for here. Honda is directly inciting the historical incidents of the atomic tests in the Pacific. The men on the ship disappeared the day of the test. Six men vanished and Honda's horror tale is symbolic of the fate of the radiation poisoning that befell men on that fateful day in the Pacific following World War II.

Masada attempts to prove his thesis of radiation damage on tissue to Tominaga using a frog and turning it too into a pile of mush goo. Actually the frog is liquefied and the liquid is alive. Houston we have a problem - make that Tokyo. The monstrous radiated children of the atomic tests have landed in Tokyo via the Ryujinmaru, a clear symbol of the Daigo Fukuryu-maru and the men that returned to Japan following the incident affected by nuclear fallout. The monsters are on the loose and thus the confusing title of The H-Man when it is clearly H-Men. Masada informs Tominaga that part of the Ryujinmaru has been discovered in Tokyo Bay covered in radioactive fallout.

This is a typically nice character exchange moment between Sahara and Shirakawa. We begin to understand that the H-Men are identified by a stange sound effect on screen. When the sound appears the ghostly creatures are not far away. The sound appears at the end of the scene between Sahara and Shirakawa suggesting Misaki may be close.

Masada hides Shakawa from the police and the Hanada gang.

Arai wishes the scientists to release the information they have because people have "dissolved." It does have a certain campy humor to it, though it's never played that way. One of the scientists, Doctor Maki, played by Koreya Senda, is a hold over from Varan The Unbelievable [the same year] where he played Doctor Sugimoto. I bet he never realized he'd be part of another unbelievable case. Bad joke? And so Maki wants to make the findings public as Honda's horror tale is tied directly to Tominaga's crime procedural and missing persons investigation. This is a nice scene between Hirata, Sahara and Shirakawa.

The thing about these early Honda pictures is that they breathe. They take their time. His camera reveals details, characters, style, mood, atmosphere. They are filled with the kind of old picture charms that today's cinema has simply lost more often than not. Today, we have all the subtlety of a striking hammer, maybe even the strike of Thor's hammer in The Avengers [2012]. It's all spectacle and very little time is taken to simply absorb a frame like a work of art. Honda's art here in The H-Man gives viewers a chance to enjoy the moment and take it all in like fine pop art. Honda spends a good deal of time converging the police, the gangs and ultimately the H-Men together in a big, bold musical number inside of a truly fantastic night club sequence. It really kicks and song and dance numbers are truly magnificent and big in their presentation given striking detail and complexity.

Ultimately the H-Men attack Blob-style absorbing humans quicker than you can count and appearing, where required, as ghostly apparitions and the harbingers of death. Their form alternates somewhat inexplicably.

The hypothesis that is proven is that a heavy dosage of radiation can liquify its victims and thus create a liquid life form. The H-Man, like Matango, is body transformation horror, albeit, again, not nearly as successful as the execeptional Matango.

The H-Man posits that the mind of man could be transplanted into an altogether different form as a result of technology run amok. The headlines read: H-BOMB CREATES ANOTHER TYPE OF HUMAN. The frightening horror established within Honda's sci-fi horror is that a new life form capable of living with radiation has been born.

Arai is abducted and Masada gives chase in the film's climactic action sequence, which is a tame stroll in the park by today's standards, but the score is appropriately stirring lending the sequence its most thrilling component culminating in a crash.

There are moments in the final minutes where The H-Man feels as though it devolves into the slightly formulaic as kaiji genre standards are applied accordingly. 1. People scurry and run fron the invasive menace. 2. Areas are evacuated. 3. The Japanese groupthink a plan to destroy the creature. In this case, it's the H-Men, or the H-Man, though it's really the H-Men and the film does seem a tad confused on this basic plot point. Though, giving it some thought, more in a moment on that point.

Arai is taken into the sewers. The gangster believes Arai was always too good for the missing Misaki. With the H-Man close and flitting about the sewers, the man offers her the choice of going with him or being "eaten by the H-Man." It does have a certain unsavory ring to it.

The flame ignition group tasked with destroying the H-Man gives the orders to burn the sewer system down despite the fact Masada heads into the sewers to find Arai.

As Arai and the gangster make their way through the sewers the end arrives swift as the H-Man always gets his carbon-based man. Meanwhile, an exhausted Arai is about as helpless as damsels in distress go. Masada saves her from the encroaching H-Man. Ultimately the flamethrowers finally finish off what is clearly several H-Men.

All confusing titular humor aside, I offer my defense of Honda and Kimura here. The H-Man, as a title, does capture the essence of Honda's nightmare living in a new world of radioactive and nuclear technologies. The H-Man conjures an idea of haunting and nightmarish consequences and the impact of technology unchecked affecting man. So, The H-Man is less a title referring to a specific physical entity or entities that physically inhabit the film, and more an idea born of madness.

In The H-Man, the challenge was to simulate the effects of monster slime dissolving and liquefying a human host. Tsuburaya used life-sized latex dolls, dressed them, then let the air out while filming at a slightly increased speed. It just so happens the idea of men mutating and undergoing body transformation into deadly gelatinous masses is a good one. The concept is one that has surfaced in films for decades. Think films like more recent horror outings such as Splinter [2008]. Thus The H-Man brings us the latest monster from the mind of Ishiro Honda in keeping with his examination of human foible within the nuclear age - ourselves. A scientist professes, "We cannot guarantee there will never be another H-Man again." And of course that's the message of Honda in his war on the possibility of human extinction within this new age of nuclear power and atomic weapons. Our existence faces the potential to be replaced by the likes of the H-Man if humankind continues its stumble into the technological darkness. This is Honda's fear and this is his warning and it's brought to fantastical life through limited effects crossed with a film noir style in The H-Man. What form will man take in the future of humanity? That is the question. The H-Man: C+. Director: Ishiro Honda. Writer: Takeshi Kimura/ Hideo Kaijo.

Additional Commentary: For additional analysis and inspired reflection I turned to fellow bloginator Mykal Banta and his always wonderful reflections on cinema inspired by the birth of the atom bomb. Following the first atomic bomb test, Trinity, in July 1945, detonated at the White Sands Missile Range in south central New Mexico, an abundant world of cinema was born and Mykal over at Radiation Cinema! Sci-Fi B-Movies And Television From The Atomic Age! continues to explore that particular world ever so articulately and with a literary flourish.

His article, Ishiro Honda Irradiates Film Noir: The H-Man, is a popular post at his site and caught my eye too. It was my first real exposure [pun not intended actually] to The H-Man. I revisited Mykal's piece after seeing the film and writing about it so as not to influence my own viewing experience.

So many have often underappreciated director Honda, even actors who worked for him like Rhodes Reason [King Kong Escapes] who unfairly dubbed him a "hack" director noted in an interview with Stuart Galbraith IV for Monsters Are Attacking Tokyo. Nothing could be further from the truth. There was much more in play in each film than the fantastical he created to meet the human eye. Note this wonderful opening by Mykal which really captures the essence of Ishiro Honda as a director.

"The great Japanese director, Ishirô Honda, made films constructed like Russian nesting dolls: The surface layer is always something grand and commercial, certainly, but once opened, layers of treasures come into the light. Honda never saw things simply, or easily. Like the artist he was, he would see the core of any film he was assigned (he worked for Japan’s Toho Studios) through his own crystal prism. Thus, his 1956 masterpiece, Gojira (Godzilla), a film about a giant lizard destroying Tokyo (and magnificent on those simple terms), becomes a film about the horrors of nuclear war and the essential goodness of mankind. And no assigned project was given anything less than the full Honda vision. Thus, his 1969 Gojira Minira Gabara Ōru Kaijū Daishingeki (All Monsters Attack), while often thought of as the worst film in the Godzilla franchise, is actually a delicate and moving film about a child’s alienation in a harsh, urban world of crushing poverty."

These thoughts could not capture the man's work more eloquently.

The goo-like impact of The H-Man arrived in 1958 alongside The Blob [1958]. As Mykal notes this fact is mostly "purely and wonderfully coincidental," including their respective running times almost to the minute upon further inspection. While the reddish, jelly-like Blob was pure outerspace science fiction, Honda's gelatinous green ooze was the work of Honda's mind affected by the arrival of real concerns in the form of atomic mushroom clouds.

Unlike the pure science fiction of The Blob, The H-Man had higher aspirations. As Mykal notes, this was a "gangster film" with a "crack team of untouchables" hoping to "crush the Tokyo underworld." Yes, "Honda has envisioned a direct and linear crime film with an undertone of effective, very creepy sci-fi – not the other way around. And Honda will have his way!"

It's true that The H-Man is populated by a variety of character archtypes that are complemented by "glowing liquid – driven to slither and ooze from Tokyo’s sewer system" or "blue radiated... monster ooze" or "radioactive slush killer" or "blue glowing mutants."

As we've noted earlier, as many sources have noted and as Mykal notes, the implication of many H-Men as a specific number is never made clear, but it is more than one H-Man, which is why I would generally accept the title of Honda's film as a conceptual device as I've offered earlier.

Mykal breaks down his analysis of each picture he reviews, in many instances, via segments dubbed The Good Stuff, which is also good fun.

Mykal discusses in some detail the work of Hirata and offers a delightful assessment of the character actor. "I watched his mad doctor save Tokyo in Honda’s 1954 Gojira. His tortured, moving performance was just so perfectly controlled, so reserved and – yes – just plain cool. There is something about a Hirata character that always seems unhurried and slightly remote from the frantic thrashings of his fellow humans, particularly when others are devoured by chaos and panic. He dwells always in the perfect eye of the hurricane." This is a terrific tribute and speaks volumes about the actor's abilities. Hirata's hard-nosed gumshoe role in The H-Man is the anti-thesis of his quirkier, disturbed scientist role in Gojira and the stark contrast genuinely demonstrates his range, a range American critics often discounted in Japanese/ Toho science fiction films regarding Hirata and a host of other Japanese actors. American writers demonstrated real ignorance of the acting breadth of Japan's top actors and Hirata's work in The H-Man and Gojira offers a substantive example of genuine versatility.

In another segment Mykal notes Honda And The Hottest Club In Tokyo. "Club Homura swings! From the hot band all dressed in cream-colored suits to the gorgeous dancers, it looks like one fine time. The service looks absolutely top flight, and the singer (Chikako) can really give purr the sultry (on this evening, she sings in English – a little number called “How Deep is My Love”). I can’t think of another film where a club scene so perfectly captures the Atomic Age in all its splendor." As I discussed earlier, the sequence manages to juxtapose criminals, law enforcement and sex kittens within a spectacular and splendid framing of action. As Mykal notes, very little dialogue is exchanged and it is mostly a visual sequence told through picture and action highlighting the magic of Honda.

Mykal's final thought: "All worlds meet in the bowels of Tokyo or Fire Solves Everything!," is just terrific. Consider Gojira, Rodan, The Mysterians and now The H-Man and fire figures prominently somewhere along the way. Amusing, but not far from the truth. Here he makes a good degree of humor about Honda's scriptwriters fighting the proverbial nuclear fire with fire. "Yes, Tominaga’s plan of attack is to dump thousands upon thousands of gallons of gasoline into the sewer system and light it. The push pins indicate the “fire ignition groups” that will set off this giant gas bomb “simultaneously.” Well, yep, that should do ‘er. The dozens of officials listening all nod their heads in approval once Tominaga has finished. Yes, yes. Fine plan. You guys sure you don’t see a potential problem with Tominaga’s tactical masterpiece? Anyone? No? Well, OK, then, light it up." It's fairly illogical, but we do have these lapeses in good sense within the fantastical world of Honda and that's okay.

Without hesitation, do check out Radiation Cinema! and the work of Mykal Banta. Based on the content of his wonderful site, Banta will never be accused of being prolific, but his rare entry is always a work of quality on vintage films. Mykal dispatches on average one to two posts per month with just one post in 2012. He has achieved a grand total of 49 quality posts. He has a whopping 286 "Irradiated" followers and climbing as of this writing since his site's inception in 2008. That's incredible really when you consider folks like myself have been toiling away at it since 2007. Impressive and deserved. His efforts are always solid. All the (nuclear) power to him.

In the end, Mykal makes some great observations and gives The H-Man a discerning look even if I didn't quite appreciate it the film to the same degree. Here are his final remarks. "Honda draws both worlds - the one of sci-fi horror and the one of gritty urban crime – patiently together, pulling all concerned toward the twilight world of Tokyo’s sewers with a watchmaker’s precision. He winds the tension in his watch, too, with a master’s stroke."

Meanwhile, writer Stuart Galbraith IV certainly noted the strengths of The H-Man including the then compelling effects scenes that truly propel the ghostly tale in his book Japanese Science Fiction, Fantasy And Horror Films. But Galbraith IV does make some excellent points regarding the film's shortcomings. As Galbraith notes, The H-Man can seem a tad confused by alternating between "moving blobs" and "blue-green ghosts" [p.38]. Like the title, what exactly are we shooting for here? As Galbraith notes, "neither form is adequately explained." Additionally, the transformation of the human form to the anti-matter of an H-man is "never really explained." It's a fair point, and one that is forgivable for fans of the genre. Galbraith does note the "hauntingly gruesome effects" implemented as geuinely effective particularly given the film's copyright date dubbing them "creepy" and "unnerving." Given the still fairly steamy dance number, which still looks relatively provocative, Galbraith notes The H-Man was hardly a "family picture" though "marketed for general audiences." Planet Of The Apes [1968] was also rated G remarkably.

One thing is certain, Honda oversaw some profoundly detailed work in his films. Still, as a film, The H-Man is not quite as successful as Rodan or Gojira, but then again The H-Man is a different kind of film melting and fusing together a number of disparate genre elements. Fans of kaiju eiga may not take a fancy to this genre approach, but like its crime noir, it's an intriguing exercise from a master director, one he would use to good effect by cross-breeding the genres with kaiju eiga for Dogora [1964]. The H-Man is one of three human-sized science fiction affairs followed by Ishiro Honda's The Human Vapour [1960] about a man transformed to gas and the directorial debut of none other than Godzilla fixture Jun Fukuda for The Secret Of Telegian [1960], also starring Shirakawa and Hirata, about a man transformed into a television signal. The H-Man is considered the strongest of the three.

The H-Man Promo

The H-Man [1958] sounds like the perfect superhero, but nothing could be further from the horrifying truth.

Alien Vs. Prometheus

"Big things have small beginnings." -David, the film's android with a droplet of alien specimen held upon his fingertip, Prometheus [2012]-

I finished watching the reimagining of Irwin Allen's Lost In Space on film [1998] for the second time recently. At the end of the film, I asked myself, what the hell was that? It was a film positively devoid of intelligence sadly enough and underscored by the positively atrocious casting of the Major Don West character. That's a bleak story for another day. Prometheus [2012], as science fiction revisits go, has much more on its mind.

The stunning, quiet, influential, opening images established the production character of Alien. Well, there I was just 48 hours before my voyage to the cinemas reexamining the immaculate Alien [1979] in preparation for the return of auteur director Ridley Scott and Prometheus, his first science fiction epic since Harrison Ford's turn in Blade Runner [1982]. The wait was finally over. We were but mere hours away from a revelation. The pressure of over three decades pushed my expectations beyond the bounds of human capability really. As much as we might want the man behind those aforementioned films to be a god, isn't that a bit much to expect?

Consider the fact Alien is over thirty years old, over a quarter of a century, and yet witnessing the film in fact proved to look remarkably fresh, still breathtaking in nearly every frame. This is indeed no small feat. When Alien was engineered, it was hardly expected to be heralded as the classic work of genius that it is today.

The always brilliant John Hurt. The production design details and thought that went into every frame of the film continues to captivate the eye. The scripted, simple, but authentic dialogue, the lived-in reality of the Nostromo, the talent of an outstanding cast, a remarkably real menace and a minimal, brilliant score added up to one unforgettable classic that defined and influenced a genre for years to come.

If you think my observations are but the mere ramblings of a lovestruck, stargazing fanboy incapable of objective analysis think again. Okay, while it may be partially true, I thought I might approach Alien with new eyes. I'm not talking about some slickly crafted, state-of-the art styled surgical implantation a la Minority Report [2002]. I'm referring to the aid and enlistment of my teenage son to offer a fresh perspective.

The question posed to my son, famously referred to as the Boy Wonder, as much as your humble Sci-Fi Fanatic, was whether or not Alien still held up against its more sophisticated and slickly designed prequel, Prometheus, which clearly enjoys the benefits of over three decades of technological advancement.

My son often scoffs at my nostalgic turns from Land Of The Lost to Battlestar Galactica, but somehow with Alien it was different. The young man is not a massive science fiction fan or especially horror. Furthermore, he was less than enthused at the prospect of seeing Prometheus when I first proposed the plan of a double bill to which he declined. Along with his exceptionally good heart, he is building a rather savvy, good, business sense too. As I said, he first declined seeing the new Scott Free production until the mention of a splendid, thin, green, twenty note bill entered the equation. To quote another film that has had the same kind of profound influence as Alien, A Christmas Story [1983], "Yes, truly, a little bribe never hurts." It's without question an authentic example of life imitating art no doubt.

But I knew he might appreciate Prometheus if he gave it a chance. Before seeing that film I suggested we take a look at Alien, the film that spawned it. Of course, would it be the other way around? He watched holding his breath and I analyzed Alien over the course of two evenings.

Speaking directly to the first fifty minutes of Alien, it's safe to say it is this crucial portion of the film that fans like myself have yearned to know more. It is this aspect of the film for which many hope Prometheus will lend answers to the many questions surrounding the derelict vessel, the space jockey, the cargo hold of eggs and face-huggers. Could we expect Prometheus to bring us closer to understanding those titillating mysteries that have propelled us to revisit the classic Alien time and again all these years?

Alien arrives with the Nostromo literally awakening. So too does its crew awaken from deep cryo-sleep. Their snug pods open, the lights turn on and all are symbolically born into a world where death awaits them thanks to the tentacles of a massive, heartless corporation called Weyland-Yutani. The life-affirming analogy was not lost on my son and Alien is filled with these kinds of parallels.

The crew receives a distress call, as Mother, the on-board computer, activates their lifeboat to respond to LV-426 to determine its origin. It's a risky proposition for a crew commissioned for off world resource mining and refining. When the craft lands systems malfunction and technology fails illustrating the fragile nature of the crew's equipment and the precarious nature of their existence.

Later, of course, Ripley deciphers the signal not as a distress message, but as a "warning." With three of its crew already suited and out discovering and exploring this strange place pounded by swirling wind and dirt, howling sound effects to underscore the otherworldly eeriness amidst a habitat likened to a "primordial" soup, there's very little chance to stop the inevitable fate of a crew literally set-up by corporate greed. The crisis that would befall the crew of the Nostromo began the moment the signal was received and the vessel activated.

Kane, playedby John Hurt, stumbles into the dark after the trio acknowledge the famous skeletal remnants of the iconic Space Jockey. A gaping hole in its chest and the strange appearance of holes in the ship's structure suggest of seemingly melted, normally impenetrable material suggests the Space Jockey was the victim of a potential struggle.

A hazy, blue beam of light covers a cold space where egg sacks dart what appears to be the inner landscape of the vessel's equivalent of a cargo hold. The mere touch or penetration of the laser film is compounded by an unsettling vibration of sound, perhaps the one received in a transmission by the Nostromo.

Fascinated John Hurt's character observes a sac through translucent skin in which he gleans life. Something moves, lives, breathes, thrives. It quivers inside almost excited by the prospect of a warm body at its threshold. Curiosity brings to Kane a life-altering and life-ending event. The egg opens like a flower blossoming and a spider-like face-hugger, as they are famously known, latches and adheres to the helmet of Kane. Acid melts the glass and before long Hurt is brought back aboard the Nostromo, against Ripley's good judgment, as countermanded by Ash, the ship's then unknown android lackey for the corporate arm, to lie prostate as an incubator for a new alien life. The process of life for this alien lifeform is indeed fascinating. It becomes clear that Ash is less interested in preserving human life than he is in sing it to fulfill a mission statement for Weyland-Yutani, a company that funded a deep space mission with more on its mind that ore mining. How this process plays out so gradually is one of the great genre-bending elements to a film that takes tropes and bends them into something beautiful, poetic and ultimately special in science fiction terror.

Well, after fifty, knuckle-gripping, breathtakingly atmospheric minutes filled with either no soundtrack, haunting sound effects or an effectively minimalist score by Jerry Goldsmith, it was time to shelve Alien for the evening. It was late. It was time for bed. Besides Kane was in the midst of gestation. That and the image of an alien face-hugger's tail gripping a man comatose was more than enough to send a boy to sleep with.

Those life-changing minutes through my son's innocent eyes prompted one of the best remarks: "Dad, that was really good, but terrifying, I'm going to need more money for Prometheus." Hysterical stuff. It was like his variation on that moment in Jaws [1975] when Roy Scheider sees the shark for the first time and stunned says backing up, "We're gonna' need a bigger boat."

The Boy Wonder was literally freaked-out by Alien over thirty years after it was made. That my friends is living proof of a quality film. Yes, Alien was scary and still is. To further illustrate that point, a normally darkened room with only the glow of a teenage ipod and a closed door was now illuminated with a fish tank light,a butterfly nightlight stolen from his slumbering sister's room and a door half ajar. My son was not going into the good night lightly.

I confirmed there were indeed no face-huggers and assured him he could leave the light off. He retorted, "That's okay. Just in case, leave the light on." Yes, that's an effective science fiction and horror classic called Alien. I share this story as my way of emphasizing why this film deserves a Top 10 spot in the list of greatest science fiction films ever made. It is not merely my mind waxing nostalgically on a film made more than a quarter century ago, but rather witnessing the details brought to life on film that still lure viewers in with its every anticipating frame. We are seduced by the beauty of a film and the mysteries that surround these characters. We are shocked at times in the way Kane was shocked by the arrival of that titular character. Alien was mean, lean, serious business and still rivets with its every moment. Alien is without question an enduring, timeless classic. This was just a nice way to revisit the film and bringing my son on board for it offered a unique perspective.

Alien works for ten strong reasons. 1. Ridley Scott. A fearless director with a hunger to be bold, he is unafraid to hold the camera on a simple shot of a helmet or a computer screen. Each frame is filled with unique information and sometimes very clever subtext. We are invited into his world.

2. The Alien. The xenomorph and overall appearance of Alien's design by Swiss designer H. R. Giger is clearly important and cannot be understated. His influence, like Ridley's on film, has been profound. The monster design for Alien is one of the best ever made. Predator would follow.

3. The Mystery. The mysteries that surround Alien have continued to inform our thirst and hunger for more about the famous xenomorph. All of these unanswered possibilities continue to drive the franchise taking us full circle to Prometheus. Alien and its mythological foundations were incredibly intriguing. It's the very reason Ridley Scott has returned to that universe. In fact, as much as Alien is like two films, one of survival and one of discovery, it the this first portion of discovery that genuinely thrilled the mind. We wanted to know more. We wanted to go back to LV-426 to learn more about the derelict ship, the fate of the Space Jockey, where the eggs came from and so much more. It has been the why? that has fascinated us for years.

4. Production and art design. The film looks amazing from the spaceships to the space suits to the ship's interiors to uniforms to the Alien itself. It never hits a false note. Seeing the carbon dioxide spew from the top of the space suits is ingenious. The attention to lighting and detail is simply unheralded. This was a universe where blue collar workers had now reached deep space. It was grungy, sweaty and uniquely beautiful. It was the anti-thesis in many ways of Prometheus' clean, antiseptic and pristine looking environment. The juxtaposition is noteworthy. Alien offers plenty to captivate the human eye.

5. Visual effects. Supervisor Brian Johnson [Space:1999] and a host of visual effects creators additionally had a major impact on the world of Alien. For those who loved Space:1999, Alien took us deeper into that terrifying universe.

6. The Cast & Sigourney Weaver. Weaver is amazing and the strong character she embodied endures as much as the film. Why else would she become the face of a franchise as much as the Alien? She largely filled the vacuum of the female heroine absent from cinema. The female hero was truly born. Additionally, the actors selected ensure the material is executed believably and sell us the tale convincingly delivering dialogue with natural flair. The casting on a film like Lost In Space [1998] for example could spell disaster. Bad acting and poorly delivered dialogue can ruin a film.

7. Subtext. Sex. Birth. Death. Human nature. There are loads of symbols in play that gives the material, written and visual, greater weight than would appear on its surface. What could look more like a female vagina than the top of that fleshy Alien egg sac?

8. Jerry Goldsmith. The composer delivers a special and effective score that complements, and never overrides the horror.

9. Mother. There is evidence that computer technology is sometimes at odds with humanity and not necessarily the crutch we might like it to be. Space:1999 ventured to ask whether technology could be trusted. Alien takes a similar tact.

10. No CGI. Thankfully the film benefits from the use of genuine craftsmen. It's never spoiled by the advent of computer technology. Good stories are often distracted by the detriment of computer graphics.

If the Alien is the perfect organism than Alien is nearly the perfect film.

So what of Prometheus? Everyone wants to know if it holds up. Can it possibly deliver or match on the level of Alien? With all of Alien's sweat-making detail, claustrophobic confines and terrifying tension Alien set the bar. Certainly the right man was at the helm of Prometheus, but could Ridley Scott possibly meet expectations? High hopes have been drifting through deep space for decades and we had finally arrived to determine if Scott had done it again. For discovery of the answers to those questions, the Boy Wonder joined me with some apprehension. [SPOILERS DEAD AHEAD: RETURN AFTER SEEING THE FILM].

What was discovered on new moon LV-223? Without question Prometheus is an ambitious affair. Some of the questions generated from Alien are indeed answered to a degree or at least we are more or less enlightened to the greater mythological picture. Much is proposed. More questions are produced surrounding themes of creation and genetic engineering by aliens dubbed the Engineers. Sadly, Prometheus while certainly a technically brilliant marvel of a picture on many levels, left me unsatisfied on a few fronts.

Co-written by Damon Lindelof, Prometheus couldn't have found a scriptwriter more in touch with confounding its audience or creating more questions than answers than this man. As one of the primary scribes on TV series Lost, I've developed something of a love and less-than-love relationship with the writer. Hate is such a strong word. But, after investing years into Lost I found the metaphysical questions, the philosophical considerations and just plain endless puzzles to be overly mystifying to the point of unnecessary. As much as I loved the hell out of Lost for its first three seasons it lost me in the end to its seemingly endless list of unanswered questions. Lindelof was a large part of its success, but acted largely to its detriment as well.

Lindelof strikes again here with Ridley Scott's metaphysical Prometheus. The visit to LV-223 is largely focused initially but, like Lost meanders and takes liberties with the story's focus.

The inspired choice of actress Noomi Rapace, a new science fiction heroine to love. My exit from the theatre was less one of exhilaration, and rather more a quiet pondering. It left me deliberating, brooding, musing the arc of evolution and creation as it were in the hands of the mysterious Engineers. Michael Fassbender's agenda-driven David whispers to himself, "Big things have small beginnings," and Prometheus epically approaches its science fiction with big questions while sowing the small seeds to the massive Alien franchise that Prometheus would be intended to spawn.

Prometheus is filled with big ideas and a few thrilling moments, but admittedly the fan of Alien in me was looking for something a little closer in spirit to the primal beast of that 1979 classic. Again, Prometheus is ambitious, but it lacks the singular, driving focus of Ridley's original sexy beast. While the film opens with the kind of pioneering spirit of the original Nostromo crew's unplanned detour, the operating variables are different in Prometheus and thus it feels different. None of the tension is immediately felt. When the terrors of outer space do finally arrive they too are largely unique and again the rules governing the scenario are decentralized and far less focused. In fact, it's hard to even put your finger on the enemy or in David's case that's exactly what you do.

The old school thinker in me, that part of me that was raised and reared on miniatures and models, H.R. Giger suits and real tangible visual effects loved the film's substantive, physical strengths. Some of the vehicles and interior sets are stunning and the kinds of environments that computer graphics merely enhances and seemingly never detracts or distracts from. These are elements that certainly heralded Scott's return for many of us, but this film is much more Star Trek [2009] in its design and implementation of slick, new effects technology than the mood of 1970s space horror. Lindelof co-produced Star Trek by the way. I'm not sure I will ever love Damon Lindelof.

Like most films today Prometheus relies heavily on CGI. The ships and technologies are simply stunning. Like a painting they are a large portion of this mostly beautiful film. It is when the CGI is executed most notably on the alien lifeforms, the Engineers and pre-evolved face-hugger tentacles. It is also used to express affected human personnel. Damn it all, I hate CGI! I hate it... sometimes! It sucks! [I know, hate is a strong word]. Used properly and it can be breathtaking, but use it on lifeforms versus spacecraft and technology and it takes me out of the moment flashing back to the kinds of inhuman applications found in Van Helsing [2004]. It feels like a short cut. Some particularly thrilling moments are compromised by bloody CGI to a degree. While the Engineers look mostly magnificent they still can't fool the human eye. They are probably the film's greatest strength as far as new creations go, but compare the CGI veins and colorations applied here versus the effects employed in Alien in all of their reality-based splendor and it's no contest. Water dribbling down the jaws and mandibles of a man-eating xenomorph will always triumph over a CGI tentacle or computerized alien teeth. There's simply no chance I'm going to approve. The human mind through the eye is far too sophisticated to be tricked by Mother. Mother is a computer and Mother is evil. Ironically, I wonder if the Charlize Theron character with all her Daddy issues wasn't the basis for the Nostromo computer system one day.

To compound matters, Ridley goes Alien 3 in the end on us and delivers a pre-evolved, computer-generated xenomorph following a Hulk-sized CGI battle between an Engineer and a pre-evolved face-hugger complete with movements that would make Ang Lee's Hulk [2003] proud. Okay, it's not that silly, but the CGI jiggle was notable.

One of the most thrilling scenes in science fiction memory. There are indeed plenty of moments to enjoy in Prometheus, and the cast is actually exceptional. Noomi Rapace shines as Elizabeth Shaw, Charlize Theron is quite tasty as Meredith Vickers and Michael Fassbender is splendid as David. Rapace, a Swedish actress and star of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo original, genuinely sparkles in the way Weaver commanded the screen all those years ago. She's quite a find and it's easy to see why Scott was smart enough to sign her. Seeing her character again in a Prometheus sequel would be a highlight.

Is Prometheus a proper prequel? Like the film proposes, that depends on what you believe. Indeed, there is plenty here to suggest an evolutionary move toward the setting of LV-426 and the creation of biologically-based weapons that both the Engineers and later humans would attempt to mine in the Alien franchise. The Engineers, as creators, were really no different than us as it turns out, but somewhere along the way they had a change of heart about their children.

The impressive Engineers. So Prometheus leaves us at an interesting end at the film's closing. It's as if the film takes us to a crossroads or more appropriately a fork in the road. Down one road you'll find Alien, Aliens, Alien 3 and thus Alien Resurrection of which Prometheus offers a nice starting point from a mythological perspective. It's clearly another piece of the puzzle from the mind of the master. Now, down the other road is the road to a sequel regarding creation and the Engineers and in many respects an entirely different science fiction concept, franchise or at least a new story. Prometheus is indeed thoughtful and I would love to see where someone, because I doubt Scott would return to it, might take the prospect of a Prometheus sequel. James Cameron anyone?

Nevertheless, the film is an altogether different animal. There is a thrilling, streamlined concept to be admired about the Alien picture and what it inspired that seems to speak to audiences about humanity and survival of the fittest. It was the perfect vehicle for the perfect organism.

Prometheus presents a very different thesis about creation and beginnings and is much grander in its scope. It's far less visceral and much more cerebral in nature though I was pleased Prometheus never let go of the horror aspects of this science fiction universe. Still, will it appeal to the masses? I don't know. People enjoy a nice bit of terrifying escapism, but when it gets too heady or too weird in its postulations people tend to turn off or run away, dub it weird and essentially scratch their heads. Keeping Prometheus mostly a secret may have worked to its advantage.

I applaud Scott for his effort here and for his bold vision to attempt something unexpected and unique. I won't let him off the hook completely. Looking at Alien through a prism tantamount to microbiology is interesting, but the minimalist design approach is not quite as thrilling. The primal part of the fan in me wanted to see the big bad Alien. Much had been put out there suggesting something different about Prometheus as if not to disappoint fans like myself, yet I still couldn't quite let go of the fact this prequel, while recommended, had somehow not integrated the face of the franchise - the Alien. Somehow, some way I had still expected its arrival. All these years of waiting and that's a tough pill to swallow. Of course, that's my problem with the film personally.

The audience I left with was mostly silent. It was mostly comprised of adults. I'm not sure if they were quietly contemplating the nature of existence or if they were fuming over the fact they never got an authentic Alien sequence as we've come to know and love. What did they see? Did they want this story to continue? No one left eager to see it again it seemed. I had two boys with me. One thought it was excellent. The other, mine, thought it was relatively frightening, a little incoherent at times, a little messy like evolution, but not nearly as good as the first film we had just watched a night earlier. I know I wasn't in a hurry to see the film again, but as of the release of this post I'm still thinking about it. It left an impression. It wasn't forgettable.

My second favorite scene from the climatic minutes of Prometheus. Comparing the film is obviously like comparing The Road Warrior [1981] to Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome [1985], the DNA is there, but it's still a different animal. There's something about that 1979 film that will never be replicated. It captured every note perfectly. The whole thing converged at just the right moment in the universe. Films today are very busy. There's much more to thrill the eyes, and less the mind, with much of it nonsensical, pointless, white noise. Films often lack that brazen simplicity of Alien. Prometheus has more on its mind than Scott's original Alien, but it doesn't make it a better film.

Truth is Prometheus is a little disappointing. Even the Engineer-manufactured concepts of alien beginnings never quite materializes into anything substantial for me to sink my teeth and yet it's a genuinely intriguing film. It stands on its own. It's not better than any of the other four films. It is merely different. Like the building blocks of life, when it comes to the Alien franchise this film is all about the strands of creation that would one day create one of the great films of all-time. This is a solid science fiction film. My son thought it was frightening in parts, but not nearly as frightening as Alien, and that says something about both films.

I just wish Ridley had delivered the Alien prequel I had imagined and Prometheus just wasn't quite that film for me. It's also unfair for me to place that kind of expectation on the picture. This is an interesting picture with its head and its heart in the right place. The lack of a genuinely tangible villain in the film is of little consquence, because Prometheus is more interested in ideas and the existential. The film is more in keeping with the kinds of broader ideas associated with a picture like Blade Runner. Perhaps in time, like Alien and Blade Runner, I'll come to appreciate this one more. Referring back to the my ten reasons why Alien endures, I would note the lack of a triumphant Alien return and the improper application of CGI as the greatest detractors in Prometheus. A second viewing will be required to note the extent subtext is applied.

It all comes down to the thread of belief established in the film. We all have beliefs. We all have different ones. Like those beliefs that are vast and varied, opinions on this film will be equally so. How you see this film is as subjective as a belief in Jesus Christ, God or belief in nothing. Scott asks those questions. It's hard to say where you'll fall on this picture, but you'll no doubt have your set of views on it like man on religion. Without question Scott still has me thinking about this film. Like the Rapace character, I'm still searching and perhaps that was Ridley's desire for this film.

Prometheus was a Greek figure, a Titan, who is alleged to have created man from clay becoming a champion of man before he was punished by Zeus for his creations. Prometheus is indeed a cautionary tale in this vein and echoes the title's roots through its themes of biology and creation. Like anything from the intelligent mind of Scott, he subverts and offers a new twist to a long held and long established mythology.

Prometheus is both a contemplative film with elements of the science fiction horrors of Alien, but it's also one that really doesn't lend itself to Predators Vs Engineers and there's something to be said there. Big things have small beginnings and Prometheus genuinely takes that approach toward the seeds of its science fiction here enveloped within the scope of an epic journey. Still, that clever quote could be referring to Alien itself.

The bottom line is with all of the build and excitement that surrounded one of the best trailers I had witnessed in recent memory complete with its horrific score I expected something a little different. I had imagined something slightly different and thus my expectation was different particularly when the bar is raised so high for a director like Scott. Here I was expecting him to build the perfect beast in my mind. That may be completely unfair, because Prometheus isn't Alien, but it's nowhere near The Phantom Menace of prequels either. Despite some minor disappointments, Prometheus is a mostly compelling science fiction yarn worthy of your mind and imagination. Days after seeing it I can't stop thinking about it. Smart science fiction combined with thrilling moments like Prometheus is a rare thing and the good ones can have that lingering effect. Alien: A+. Prometheus: B+.