I Had a Déjà Vu… Alien and Jesse Pinkman Were in It in Outer Space

The title could have easily been "I had a déjà vu… Alien and Jesse Pinkman were in it in outer space; Panos Cosmatos was also in it with its cosmic neon bolts… and there were also certain Doom, John Wick and Event Horizon vibes." But sure, this wouldn't make any sense. Also, I could have easily watched The Eternaut, which premiered on Netflix today. But I love cosmic horror and my passion got the best of me. And yes, "a passion is a passion," notary Andretta would say. Even though Oesterheld's work exudes certain moments of this beautiful and scarcely explored subgenre, I decided to give an opportunity to this film that premiered just a few days ago on Prime Video with the advertising premise that it was one of the latest huge exponents of the matter in question. After an endless 90 minutes, I understood that, when there's money in between, everything promised is part of a lie. A scam. A bot that sells but delivers nothing.

Why does producing cosmic horror in cinema seem so difficult? In Ash, the last attempt to replicate the true horror of the unknown presented in Alien, In the Mouth of Madness or, without going that far back, the extremely underrated The Endless, the environment is stained with blood within the first 20 seconds. The exploration of intrigue is practically null. The mystery is resolved at a snail's pace. The "unknown" turns out to be the most familiar and, even though this game isn't new—being John Carpenter's The Thing the most representative example—rapper Flying Lotus' second movie navigates through an endless ocean of ideas without a clear possible destination.

The plot is simple and the mere act of explaining it would be boring, but I have no choice. A woman called Riya Ortiz (Eiza González putting on her model face even in the less appropriate moments) is stranded in a spaceship that landed on a planet painted with Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn's—and, why not, also Panos Cosmatos'—favorite colors. She doesn't remember who and where she is and puts on an exaggerated model face while trying to solve why several of her murdered colleagues are surrounding her. Meanwhile, we, or me in this case, closely watch. I observe, maybe even better than the Mexican actress. There's no way her poor gesticulation evokes something genuine in me. Do you feel the same regarding this actress? Maybe staring at a green screen is harder than it seems. But I can't give her credit just for trying.

While some flashbacks hit Riya quickly and fiercely, we see a hidden mirage among the fog that invades the unknown planet. It seems she's the one reflected on it. Great, more mystery is added to the mystery. The protagonist isn't the only one immersed in an altered state in which she doesn't understand anything, I'm also with her surrounded by a cloud of doubts. I repeat, this could be extremely gratifying for the experience. Ultimately, this is what being afraid of the unknown is about: being stunned by something we don't completely understand or comprehend. Unfortunately, Ash joins the messy entanglement of movies that don't know what they want to be. A combination of ideas, influences and many concept arts downloaded from Pinterest, all in the hands of a talentless director.

Shortly after, we witness Riya's dead, disfigured colleagues laying on the floor. The flashbacks—that resource that SHOULDN'T be treated lightly—reveals more than necessary. Done, I know what happened. But I don't want to end this article, because it's not until a few minutes after this chaotic introduction that our beloved Jesse Pinkman, sorry, Aaron Paul appears on the scene. The favorite dealer of many surfaces as the "savior" figure. But sure, this is a cosmic horror movie. No one can be trusted. All possible theories can be sensed beforehand in a certain way.

"Oh, Aaron Paul, aka Brion, surely isn't who he says he is." The feature of revealing secrets through what the characters see on a screen is pretty modern. Zack Snyder, a god in the matter, is certainly proud. Now, not only do we not exactly know who Brion is, but also "the threat" appears on the scene. Just like in Ridley Scott's pinnacle work, we see how the—now dismembered—crew members had to get off their spaceship and shelter, and found something they shouldn't. Sounds familiar? The story's development never cares about creating enough self-awareness of what's being narrated to make us worry about the protagonist. In addition to González' poor performance, Lotus never reveals what he wants to convey.

The easiest path to divert the mistakes would be the gore one. Yes, Ash has plenty of what's been done and successful in the past, in this case with a gamer mise-en-scène like the one in the cult classic Doom, trippy visual imagery and a lot of blood. But what happens to us when none of this ends up having an impact? The director's choices end up being much more disgusting than the biomechanical fluids that come out of the protagonists, sinking us into the hell of witnessing a plot that feels like an awful déjà vu. I have already lived this, I would say. But unfortunately, I had to relive it while watching this forgettable movie.

Published on MAY 8, 2025, 21:57 PM | UTC-GMT -3

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