‘ALIEN: ROMULUS’ Reenergizes Franchise By Leaning Into Its Celestial Horrors

20th Century Studios made a clear statement by hiring Evil Dead and Don’t Breathe director Fede Alvarez to helm the seventh (or ninth, if you count the dreadful Alien vs. Predator movies) installment of the Alien franchise: we’re going back to basics. Alvarez, known for his low-budget, high-gore horror films, seemed like the perfect fit. After all, his ill-fated venture outside the genre with the poorly-constructed and even more poorly-received The Girl in the Spider’s Web landed him in unofficial director’s jail for the better part of a decade. With Alvarez behind the camera, Alien: Romulus promised a return to the franchise’s nervy space-horror roots—and it largely delivers exactly that.

A direct sequel to Ridley Scott’s Alien that takes place before James Cameron’s Aliens, Alien: Romulus may be the best entry in the franchise since Cameron’s crew lamented it was “game over.” While Prometheus opened up an intriguing new corner of the Alien universe, it provocatively promised an (unfulfilled) expansion of the franchise’s lore – and got a bit bogged down in the details on its path. Where Prometheus looked to the stars, Romulus focuses on what works—and just delivers. With a sharp eye for human-level character drama and a commitment to practical effects, Romulus brings a distinct analog feel to its world. The characters navigate a tactile environment with tech that feels refreshingly grounded, a stark contrast to the over-reliance on CGI in Prometheus and, especially, Covenant where the VFX proved distractingly artificial. Romulus isn’t concerned with expanding the franchise; its sole focus is delivering a nerve-wracking couple of hours in a darkened theater.

The film, referred to as an “interquel” (an in in-between film), doesn’t demand a deep understanding of the expansive Alien universe from its audience. The premise is straightforward: Rain (Cailee Spaeny) and her “brother,” a synthetic named Andy (David Jonsson), are desperate to escape the sunless Weyland-Yutani mining colony, Jackson’s Star, where they’ve spent their miserable lives. When Rain’s friends—a ragtag group of gearhead teens and twenty-somethings—discover a decommissioned company vessel floating above them, they seize the chance to steal some Weyland tech that might finally get them off this dreary rock and claim their freedom.

It shouldn’t be lost on anyone that this premise is essentially Don’t Breathe in space—and somewhat ingeniously so. Rain is a likable protagonist, pushed into a seemingly harmless crime by circumstance, only to face dire consequences for her intrusion. Much like Jane Levy’s Rocky discovered in a rundown Detroit neighborhood, there are horrors inside this abandoned spacecraft that were better left undisturbed. In their quest to pillage the cryo tubes and fuel needed for their unauthorized intergalactic escape to a more hospitable planet, Rain and her crew inadvertently awaken a legion of chestbursters and soon after find xenomorphs lurking down every hall and up every wall. What starts as a glorified prison break quickly turns into a desperate fight for survival as they become trapped in space with the nearly invincible aliens.

The gritty production design and practical effects are outstanding, creating a sense of hopelessness in the filthy establishing shots of Jackson’s Star and grounding Rain’s mission with real purpose. The analog construction of the spaceships adds a tangible authenticity, honoring H.R. Giger’s iconic designs while making Romulus feel more immersive. The decision to capture the effects and sets practically isn’t just a nod to eagle-eyed cinephiles; it significantly enhances the film’s tension, making every moment more tense and anxiety-riddled.

Despite Alvarez’s commitment to practical effects, Romulus makes a somewhat grave miscalculation by resurrecting a franchise legacy character through the cringy artifice of AI sorcery. The effects here are muddy and unconvincing, sticking out even more against the backdrop of the film’s otherwise practical, in-camera effects. Beyond the technical shortcomings, the ethical implications of using a deceased person’s likeness without consent are troubling. This decision becomes increasingly problematic as the character takes up more screen time, ultimately detracting from its otherwise strong narrative and convincing effects work.

Even with a few miscalculations, Alien: Romulus just rips. It’s tight, well-paced, and zips along with a clarity of purpose that’s often too rare in R-rated summer blockbusters. The film expertly delivers thrills in a measured way—never excessively nasty or exploitative—while frequently pushing the boundaries of body horror. The inspired use of xenomorph acid blood, which gruesomely melts flesh and bone, also fuels a gripping weightless escape sequence that exemplifies Romulus’s ability to balance familiar formulas with fresh innovation. Its taut third act embodies the franchise’s thrilling challenge to evolution, mirroring the film’s thematic exploration of hubris and the monstrous consequences of forced change. Romulus reminds us that tampering with what works can corrupt the very essence of survival—both for the characters and the franchise.

CONCLUSION: A legacy sequel that thrives when it taps into what made the original ‘Alien’ such a tense outer space outing, ‘Alien: Romulus’ proves there’s still plenty of life in the Xenomorphs—and that life is best served with a hefty dose of death. Cailee Spaeny emerges as a strong final girl in Fede Alvarez’s nail-biting space horror venture, delivering a Ripley worthy performance that anchors the film’s tension and terror.