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Bound for a remote planet on the far side of the galaxy, members (Katherine Waterston, Billy Crudup) of the colony ship Covenant discover what they think to be an uncharted paradise. While there, they meet David (Michael Fassbender), the synthetic survivor of the doomed Prometheus expedition. The mysterious world soon turns dark and dangerous when a hostile alien life-form forces the crew into a deadly fight for survival.
The story begins 10 years after the events of “Prometheus” and ends en route to a sequel that will bring us closer to the beginning of the cycle. (Arranging installments in sequential order is a totally old-fashioned, linear, 20th-century way of doing business.) As usual, a starship is plying the far reaches of space. As usual, the crew is a collection of talented actors obeying the imperatives of science-fiction seriousness. There are a bunch of married couples — James Franco and Katherine Waterston; Danny McBride and Amy Seimetz; Demián Bichir and Nathaniel Dean; Billy Crudup and Carmen Ejogo — and others with enough personality to make us feel a little something when they die.
Most of them do. Mr. Franco’s character, the captain of the Covenant, is a goner at the outset, reanimated in videos that stir his widow’s grief. The first mate (Mr. Crudup) assumes command and leads his subordinates onto the surface of the green but curiously lifeless planet Origae-6, the very spot where the Prometheus disappeared. There they meet a robot named David, who invites some of the astronauts back to his cave to look at his etchings.
David — seen in “Prometheus” and in a Kubrick-esque prologue here — is played by Michael Fassbender. So is another robot named Walter, a slightly updated model from the Weyland corporation. The differences between the two machines are striking. Walter wears his hair parted on the side and has been engineered to speak like someone from Wisconsin. (How does Mr. Fassbender do it?)
David, in contrast, has a crisp British accent and an acquaintance with human culture that extends to Wagner and Michelangelo but is a bit wobbly on romantic poetry. Viewers who stayed awake through freshman English or the fifth season of “Breaking Bad” know full well that Byron didn’t write “Ozymandias.” I’m telling you this so you aren’t fooled (as I confess I was) into spending a few minutes feeling smarter than the screenwriters, John Logan and Dante Harper. I don’t think that counts as a spoiler.
And Mr. Scott is, in any case, a nearly spoiler-proof filmmaker. Even his lesser efforts are infused with enough craft and energy to keep you engaged and surprised, and “Alien: Covenant” is no exception. The gloom and shadows of Origae-6 and the hushed, antiseptic corridors of the Covenant are superior horror-movie environments, and the fact that you know more or less exactly what’s coming doesn’t diminish the creepiness, or lessen the jolt when the thing you’re dreading arrives.
David, it turns out, has devoted the years since “Prometheus” to the study and cultivation of our beloved alien, while also harboring a grudge against the species that created him. Walter, in contrast, is more of a humanist, and the quarrel between them is not unlike the one between Magneto and Professor X in the “X-Men” movies (speaking of Michael Fassbender) or Koba and Caesar in “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes” (speaking of posthumous James Franco). I will leave it to you to decide who has the better argument, and who deserves to prevail.
The answer, in any case, can only be the Giger alien itself, a contribution to the pantheon of modern design up there with the Coca-Cola logo and the Nike swoosh. From spore to embryo to full-grown raptor and all the stages in between, this monster is the stubborn movie equivalent of an earworm — a lovable parasite, a squiggle of pop-cultural DNA that burrows into your rib cage and never goes away.