We had it so good in 1997. For many Alien fans, Resurrection was a disappointment: too repetitive, too French, and too pointless to register as anything but a pseudo-art-house cash-grab from Fox, penned by a guy who'd set up some goofy vampire show at the WB. Of course, that guy turned out to be Joss Whedon, which explains the space pirates, snappy banter, and truly out-there explorations of the series' core themes. Twenty years on, I admire Resurrection’s relative purity. No, you can't see the xenomorph’s elegant design under all that tar-like goop. Yes, the characters are again reduced to running around a clunky old ship (can’t we just get to Earth already?). This is clearly a third sequel, but Whedon and director Jean-Pierre Jeunet make the inevitable seem fresh and kind of trashy--a stark contrast to today's aesthetically awesome but bereft-of-character tentpoles scientifically designed to advance brands over mythologies.