Although it was far from the first film to cross genres, Alien redefined the combo science-fiction/horror movie. It became the template for any filmmaker eager to wade in its ready-made tropes, like derelict ships, monstrous aliens, and labyrinthine haunted house mechanics. But Alien had more than trend-setting tropes on its side. It also had a stellar cast drawn from character actors of the era, an impeccably crafted screenplay from Dan O’Bannon (Dead and Buried, Return of the Living Dead), and, of course, a true visionary in director Ridley Scott (Gladiator, Blade Runner).
With few exceptions, the filmmakers that followed, however much they’ve tried or however talented they might have been, and the films they made, couldn’t avoid being compared or contrasted to the genre classic. Audiences and critics often found their efforts wanting. Sadly, and it’s not for lack of Herculean efforts on both sides of the camera by a talented, committed crew, we can add musician, composer, and director Flying Lotus (aka Steven Ellison) to the list of well-intentioned misfires. His second feature-length film, Ash, is a one-part imagination and two-parts a derivative addition to the genre hybrid that Alien built.
Initially relying on a long-familiar, but also incredibly effective, mystery template, Ash opens with Riya Ortiz (Eiza González, delivering a vibe-perfect performance), the seemingly lone survivor of a massacre on an inhospitable planet (the “Ash” of the title). She’s sent by a dying Earth’s leaders to colonize new, nearby worlds and presumably save humanity from extinction. Dazed, confused, and suffering from a noir-ish case of selective amnesia, Riya can’t remember the last 24-48 hours. The how and why, not to mention the who, are patchy. She can’t explain the premature departures of colleagues like Adhi (Iko Uwais), Clarke (Kate Elliott), Kevin (Beulah Koale), and Davis (Flying Lotus) from this mortal plane to the next.
Only rapid-fire, Event Horizon-inspired flashes of violence, up to and including the death and dismemberment of said fellow colonists, give Riya — and the audience — glimmers of insight into what might or might not have happened. Even worse, some of Riya’s half-formed memories or acid-tipped visions suggest she wasn’t an innocent bystander or victim, but an active participant in the aforementioned violence. It’s almost enough to suggest Riya shouldn’t escape the now desolate planet and remain with her deceased colleagues until she runs out of oxygen and food.
But her immediate, short-term survival comes first. The powered-down station needs to be rebooted, the annoying auto-warning needs to be turned off, and Riya needs to get a potentially serious head wound examined by the station’s chirpy, Japanese-language medical robot. Unnamed onscreen except generically, the medical robot will make a not entirely unexpected return appearance later in the film, echoing — or rather mirroring — a similar scene in Scott’s vastly underappreciated Alien prequel, Prometheus.
The sudden arrival of Brion (Aaron Paul), the orbiting space station’s lone occupant, on a recon mission to uncover why the ground station has gone quiet, adds a new set of questions for both Riya and the audience to decipher. Alerted to Riya’s partial amnesia and the mystery surrounding the deaths of the other colonists, Brion opts for a “leave now, let’s figure things out later” approach that runs counter to a stubborn Riya’s preference for “answers first, leave later” mindset.
Unfortunately, the answers to those questions rarely surprise, let alone shock. However, though Flying Lotus, working with ace-level practical effects artists, doesn’t disappoint when it comes to graphic bloodletting or exposed, gooey viscera. Instead, the answers Ash provides colour between the genre lines, going exactly where genre enthusiasts can guess on their first try. In turn, the non-stop succession of predictable plot beats repeatedly deflate whatever tension or suspense Riya’s predicament raises.
Still, for all of its over-familiarity story-wise, Ash’s visuals rarely dip into videogame, cut-scene quality. Between the cramped, claustrophobic, neon-lit interiors of the ground station, the desolate, storm-swept exterior outside its walls, and Riya’s not infrequent psychedelic trips into her half-digested memories, dreams, and possibly, hallucinations, Ash manages to sidestep the “forgettable fodder” label. A low bar surely, but a bar Ash easily clears.
