Last Survivors of the Betty: ALIEN: RESURRECTION, the Inexplicable Film, Boots, Whiskey, Sex-Gender Panic, and $11 million

Marooned! on Mars with Matt and Hilary

We're back, with our discussion of a serious piece of shit, Alien: Resurrection, the Joss Whedon-scripted, Jean-Pierre Jeunet-directed, 1997 mess that concludes the Ripley arc of the Alien franchise. We hate this movie, and unfortunately for you, we talk about it for an hour and a half! If you've never seen it, you might have to suffer through it just to understand what the hell we're talking about, so: our apologies.

This disasterpiece is full of anxiety about sex, panic about gender, and downright hatred of women. It's an abysmal example of what Matt terms late-1990s Hollywood Baroque, containing no ideas and making no sense. The phrase "it raises more questions than it answers" could be used here, but only in the worst way, because Alien: Resurrection isn't even interested in the questions it raises in the first place, let alone answering them. Why, for instance, does whiskey come in solid cubes? Why does the Ripley clone know how to fly a spaceship but not how to work a fork? Why doesn't Christie just shake his foot to free himself from the grip of a dead xenomorph? Is that fingernail polish or are her nails actually that color? (And by the way, if you know the name of the popular late-90s nail polish that Hilary references, please let us know)? The answers: stop thinking about it, pigs! Just eat your popcorn and shut up!

This movie made us so mad we didn't even notice the distinct and fatal absence of cats.

So, again, sorry, but it's not our fault this movie exists. At least Prometheus will be pretty to look at.

Thanks for listening, and sorry!

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Music by Spirit of Space