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Features
22 December 2012 © Biochemical Society
Science Fact and Science Fiction
In Jurassic Park, a film that features molecular
biology, scientists are able to a dinosaur by
combining dinosaur DNA preserved inside a
mosquito suspended in amber, with frogs’ eggs. As
Glassy argues, in order to do this, a near complete
dinosaur genome would have to be obtained. Using
the techniques in the film, the scientists would
have created, at best, a frog–dinosaur hybrid, not
the fully hatched Tyrannosaurus that appears in
the film. But the fundamental principles of genetic
engineering and cloning were not fractured. The
answer to the question ‘Could it happen?’ is yes,
genetic engineering technology will perhaps one day
advance enough that we can recreate extinct species
from ancient DNA.
In science-fiction classic Alien, Glassy finds “one
of the most interesting life cycles in science-fiction
cinema”. The film delivers credibility and kicks in a
beautifully constructed documentary-style thriller.
The life cycle of the alien in the film is composed
of both a sexual phase and an asexual phase. The
sexual phase, the mating of the alien queen, we
assume happens off-screen: but the asexual phase,
the hatching of the ‘facehuggers’ that begins via the
victims mouth is vividly depicted. The facehugger
latches on to another species and assimilates its DNA
with the host. As a result of this DNA mixing, a ‘chest
burster’ alien emerges from the host and grows into
an adult, completing the cycle. A stunning piece of
visual cinema and visionary science.
The defining and thrilling idea contained within
the Alien films is that the alien DNA can adapt to
any species and combine them into a viable mixture
capable of reproduction (a xeno-species). Since DNA
is passed on from generation to generation, the alien
must have previously assimilated DNA from other
species, combining to make the alien the terrifying
force that it has become. Somehow the alien has the
ability to find the best genes it can and incorporate
these into its own genome and life cycle, making it
one of the most powerful and dominant species seen
in science-fiction cinema.
The key to the credibility of the film is that the
alien life cycle depicted has examples and parallels
here on Earth. It stays true to the principles of
biology; it has an asexual and sexual life cycle, a
cyclopropagative transmission process (much like
malaria), meaning that it changes form and function
as it invades and multiplies within hosts, and it
survives through domination of its environment via
its genes.
Prometheus, the recent prequel to Alien, is, on
the other hand, low on authenticity. Neither the
mission, the biology nor the scientists are consistent
even within the film’s own narrative world, with the
filmmakers choosing instead to mix realities; the
real, the fantasy and the reality within the film. Take
the moment the scientists analyse the alien DNA and
discover it’s a 100% match to our own. In his blog
SciencePunk, Frank Swain describes how puzzling
this is: “I’m not sure what this means. That we’re
them, obviously. But 100%? I share 99% of my DNA
with a chimp. Does that mean [the aliens] made
chimps too? But if they’re a 100% match for us,
where did they get the extra 1% DNA we don’t share
with chimps? Do they use some other DNA that they
manufactured? Does that mean the [aliens] made all
life on Earth or just kick it off and let it evolve?”
It is the mixing of narrative worlds in science
fiction that hampers enjoyment. In Prometheus,
as Frank Swain again points out, the writers make
a big deal out of the characters not being able to
breathe the moon’s atmosphere because of its high
CO 2 potency, but the combination of gases inside
the alien’s moon base enables the expedition team
to breathe normally. That’s fine: the aliens modified
the atmosphere inside the base to suit their lungs. So
why then are the aliens wearing breathing apparatus
inside their own base? And how does one alien
manage to sprint unsuited out of the moon base after
the scientists?
For me, though, it’s the scientists that really stretch
credulity far beyond breaking point. I don’t mind
that they are ridiculously good-looking, younger
than everyone else and are thirsty for risk – that’s
believable. In fact, these qualities are an enjoyable
leap away from the classic Hollywood scientist
who, quoting from Christopher Frayling’s Mad, Bad
and Dangerous: the Scientist and the Cinema, are
almost invariably male and “are dressed in white lab
coats; have frizzy hair or else none at all; they wear
Coke-bottle spectacles; they work alone indoors or
underground in laboratories marked ‘Secret’; they are
middle-aged and not at all physically attractive”. The
Prometheus scientists showed none of these clichés,
which was refreshing. The notion that science might
actually be interesting to people with both looks and
brains is a modern idea in movie making.
What wasn’t so good, however, was how clueless
the scientists were about everything, which, as
research scientists on a trip of a lifetime, didn’t make
sense. Worse, they were careless with their loot – the
alien matter. Common to all working scientists I have
met is the care they take over their samples: feeding,
temperature, climate control, transportation, health,
contamination risks and the individual needs of each
precious piece of data. In this film, the scientists
throw the new life forms around as if they’re custard,