But even Ripley isn't particularly likable or interesting this time around. Equipping her with smart-ass quips was an awful idea, and Weaver can't decide whether she's playing it campy or straight. Out jumps an alien. Back down the corridor runs everyone who still has legs. And so 95 minutes starts to feel like a year in a biopod.
Resurrection is almost quaintly Victorian.
You half expect them to watch the Lifetime Channel and knit some booties with snaky little tails. Of all the retread genres, the horror-movie sequel stands the best chance of equaling or surpassing its original. What scared you in the first film is likely to scare you again, if handled with a little imagination, and most horror films these days are so lousy that a sequel couldn't be any worse. At least in space, no one can hear you snore. Nashville Scene .