Alien and Aliens are incredible films, but the true source of fans’ fascination with the franchise arguably remains H.R. Giger’s repulsive yet beautiful beast itself. Seemingly the deadly darkness of space come to life, it’s an amoral monster that you can only dream of studying safely, and it’s this dangerous fantasy that fueled Jim Woodring and Kilian Plunkett’s memorable 1993 miniseries “Aliens: Labyrinth.” Spoilers after the jump:
Written by Jim Woodring'Aliens: Labyrinth' #1
Art by Kilian Plunkett
Colored by Matt Hollingsworth
Lettered by Ellie De VilleRumor has it that the crew members of space station Innominata are expendable and can be used in clandestine experiments. Rumor has it that Paul Church, the Colonel Doctor in charge of the research facility, has been running tests to determine what makes the Aliens tick and that he’s using Colonial Marines as bait. Well, the U.S. Government doesn’t like rumors—they like facts. And so they’ve sent Colonel Doctor Anthony Crespi to investigate. He’s empowered to get the truth any way he can. His goal is to find a way that will get him off that station alive.
It’s important to note when reviewing “Aliens: Labyrinth” that we’re reviewing both the four-issue series, and the prelude published in the “Dark Horse Comics” anthology, ‘Aliens: Backsplash.’ The latter story, placed before the main event itself in reprints, is a fast-and-furious prologue that sees Colonel Doctor Anthony Crespi participate in a failed mission to exterminate an Alien hive, from which he emerges the only survivor.
It’s a cartoonishly gory opening — presumably lacking the time or resources to emulate the light and shadow of the films like the “Aliens” comics before this, Matt Hollingsworth lathers the pages in heavily saturated green acid and red human blood instead, while Kilian Plunkett pushes the limits of the franchise’s violence (and seemingly pays homage to Predator while he’s at it) with Aliens flinging the freshly torn skulls of hapless marines.
The art in the main series itself is a much more humdrum affair, which isn’t a criticism: Plunkett’s Moebius-style outlines, and Hollingsworth’s muted colors, gives a utilitarian vibe that reflects the banality of the real evil found in this comic. The speckled art conveys the unglamorous, infernal atmosphere of the movies in a different way: all of the characters look ravaged and exhausted, and even the walls seem to have liver spots, generating a sense of unease, and you almost begin to worry you might catch an infection.
Woodring’s script begins in a perfunctory manner, with Crespi giving Admiral Thaves — the man ultimately in charge — a predictable spiel about how he wants to dispense with the pleasantries and inspect Dr. Church’s work already, while Lt. Sharon McGuinness, the book’s other protagonist, may as well be wearing a sign saying “Dr. Church is the bad guy” when explaining she’s here to investigate the death of her fiancé (Crespi’s predecessor). For such a violent comic, it’s also oddly reticent to use strong language.
Church is definitely the villain, and he dominates our interest from his first appearance, where he displays a laidback attitude to the accidents on his station. Bearing an uncanny resemblance to Dr. Okun in Independence Day (which came out three years after this), it’s hard not to hear Brent Spiner’s puckish voice, which makes his exposition even more entertaining. Church has uncovered the psychology and telepathic communication of the Alien, for which he has developed a drug to render them docile in the presence of a human.
It’s not as predictable as it sounds: the drug is injected into the human, giving them an aura of invincibility that the Alien can smell, and is frightened by — it’s fascinating, the insinuation that the beast is a bully that goes for the easy targets. We then gasp at how Church walks a muzzled Alien down a corridor like a dog, and are enraptured when he treats Crespi to a careful dissection of one of the acidic monsters. Plunkett’s rendition of the Aliens are some of the best ever drawn for Dark Horse, perfectly capturing the unsettlingly tall, slim proportions of Giger’s original design; its smooth, phallic head; and the precise, biomechanical ribbing on its body, which is all the more impressive given how hard it would’ve been to find reference photos before the internet.
Continued belowBut the standout work in this mini has to be when Church reveals why he’s dedicated his life to destroying the Aliens: in an extended flashback, the creative team takes the reader to Hell with him, as we see how he and his family of terraformers were captured by a disease-infested hive. It’s an exceptionally lurid reminder that there’s nothing more dangerous than a cornered animal, and that there are fates worse than death: an increasingly malnourished Church witnesses those closest to him become bloated incubators for stillborn chestbursters, and is forced by his captors to do unspeakable things that send the Freudian overtones of the franchise into overdrive.
While Church escaped, it’s clear that he never recovered his sanity, and so you never feel as angry towards him as McGuinness does when his atrocities are uncovered. Like any good Alien story, the true enemy here is the military–industrial complex, which didn’t care what happened to Church’s family as long as they terraformed a few more planets along the way (we’re told the only advice they received in case of an Alien encounter was to pray for a quick death), and then exploited his obsession with avenging his loved ones for scientific progress. The comic comes to an abrupt end, but ultimately a satisfying one that reinforces we shouldn’t just be horrified at Dr. Church, but the enabling of his operation as a whole.
When you begin “Aliens: Labyrinth,” you’ll realize instantly that Dr. Church is King Minos, and the Aliens are his minotaurs, yet the inevitable Xenomorph-induced panic doesn’t detract from how enthralling (and appalling) the story becomes: those unspeakable things are shown in vivid detail, and they are perverse and unforgettable. Church’s story is undoubtedly one of the bleakest the franchise has ever told, and that’s why it’s more than worth a read for anyone with a passing familiarity with the movies, or a copy of “Aliens Omnibus Vol. 3” — as well as the stomach for it.
