But don’t get me wrong—Prometheus starts strong. It does everything right to capture the audience’s attention: stunning visuals, a mysterious setup, grand philosophical questions about humanity’s origins. That’s no small feat, especially when your story hinges on the search for what’s essentially a cosmic MacGuffin. But then, in the space of five baffling seconds, it all unravels. A trained biologist, on a dangerous alien world, takes one look at a clearly hostile, hissing space cobra and decides it’s a good idea to pet it. Just like that, the spell is broken. Logic is gone, tension is gone, and all that’s left is the sad realization that the script was rushed or the writers weren’t fully in it.
So let’s take a closer look at this biologist’s so-called character arc and break down how those events should have unfolded—if the writers had been more careful about preserving logic and scientific credibility.
Trained biologist – An already complete character arc
When we’re introduced to a trained biologist—or any trained professional, really—in a story like this, we expect that their character is already formed. They’ve gone through the grind, completed their education, faced challenges, and emerged on the other side with a level of mastery. That kind of background implies not just skill and confidence, but something even more important in a high-stakes, unfamiliar environment: intuition. They should recognize danger, assess unknown variables, and respond like someone who’s been in the field before—and it shouldn’t matter that they’re in a new environment.
Fix #1 – The trainee
So for this story to work, it should have been made explicitly clear—more than once—that this guy isn’t a seasoned expert, but rather a trainee, maybe even the junior member of a larger biology team. Someone who’s smart, yes, but still green. Someone who’s here to learn, not lead. That would at least justify some hesitation, some curiosity overpowering caution. Without that context, his actions come off not as human error, but as a complete failure of storytelling.
Fix #2 – The Motivation to Risk
Alternatively, we could just give him a clear, believable motivation for sticking his hand out in the first place. Earlier in the film, the team is shown collecting DNA samples from the environment—rocks, air, remnants of alien organisms. So why not establish that the biologist, of all people, is especially eager to collect data from a live specimen? If the creature appears passive or non-aggressive at first, his curiosity could override his caution—not because he’s stupid, but because he’s driven by scientific ambition. It’s still a risky move, but now it’s in character, and it adds tension instead of killing it.
“It’s a scientific expedition — No weapons.”
Even before the team sets foot on that alien world, the film drops a glaring red flag: somehow, a trillion-dollar spaceship is staffed by a ragtag group of naive, disorganized rookies who seem to have no clear protocols to follow. Case in point: Elizabeth Shaw, a medical doctor, somehow manages to overpower a trained soldier and orders him to lose the weapons.
Now, I have to admit, part of me wanted to cheer. After all, I didn’t want another “shoot first, ask questions later, when it’s dead” sci-fi action flick full of needless firefights. So, for a moment, I gave the film a pass on this rather unorthodox command. But looking back, it only highlights how inconsistent the writing is: how does a doctor have the authority—and the muscle—to disarm a soldier on a potentially hostile alien planet? And what kind of “scientific expedition” sends people into the unknown without backup firepower or clear contingency plans?
But beyond inconsistent writing, there was one specific story element I really want to highlight:
The Search for Our Creator trope
How believable is it that anyone on this crew would be willing to risk everything to search for our creators on a distant, alien planet—yet none of them show even a hint of spiritual belief or reverence? It’s as if not a single person on board is a churchgoer or someone who embraces the idea that humanity was created by a higher intelligence—what many would call God, often associated with creative power of love. Sure, a few characters casually mention Darwinian evolution, but where’s the religious perspective? Where’s the crew member who wrestles with faith, or represents the hope and fear that come with confronting the divine?
Honestly, this felt like a huge missed opportunity. Splitting the crew into ideological camps—believers versus skeptics—could have added real tension and depth, turning the mission into a profound clash of worldviews, rather than just a sci-fi treasure hunt. Instead, the story skims over this rich thematic soil, leaving it oddly flat.
But despite all its shortcomings—the baffling decisions, the missed thematic opportunities, and the uneven writing—Prometheus is still a fun movie to watch. But storywise, I just can’t rate it very high. For me, it lands at a 3 out of 10.
Thank you for reading.
Ira
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