As director or audience member, it's difficult to approach a property with as much expectation built around it as the Alien series. In the 33 years since the first Alien film came out, both it and its sequels (of debatable quality) have spawned a library's worth of critical analysis and design homages. Not to mention, it's generated a lot of fan attachment. I am hardly exempt from this baggage train, considering that the original 1979 Alien is not only one of my favorite sci-fi movies, but one of my favorite movies, period. As you might have guessed, this doesn't mean I'm unwilling to call a spade a spade. Or, as is more apt in this case; a near-xenomorphic-mess is still a near-xenomorphic-mess.
Unlike his Robin Hood-turned-Republican-allegory, Ridley Scott's Prometheus is by contrast daringly liberal, atheistic, and, dare I say it, pro-choice. This modern vehicle is an existential space horror flick packed with body horror, dazzling imagination, and little rational sense. Like the molecular structure of the self-sacrificing Space Jockey that kicks off the puzzling proceedings, the longer you watch Prometheus, the more it comes apart.
It should go without saying, but this entire discussion is rife with spoilers, start to finish. It's a "discussion," rather than a "review," because I figure if you care about spoilers you won't read this until you've seen it. Even so, you've been warned, and in bold and italics, no less.