What happened to Lambert?

Like many moviegoers in 1979, I was not prepared for “Alien.”  The film relentlessly burrowed into my brain the same way the titular creature stalked and killed the ill-fated crew of the Nostromo.  I had nightmares for years.  I drew the alien compulsively in an attempt to define its features and therefore reduce my paralyzing fear.  It helped a little.  Though the slavering star beast rarely haunts my dreamscape anymore, any sight of it will always produce a brief yet electric thrill of terror as I instantly relive my first harrowing experience of watching this benchmark sci-fi fright fest in the forbidding darkness of the theater.

There are many things that make “Alien” an iconic film:  the excellent cast, the superlative set design, the quiet yet haunting score and the slow, inexorable build up of white-knuckle tension.  However, above all these great things is the work of Swiss surrealist Hans Rudi Geiger.  There can be no doubt that his artistic contributions resulted in the most distinctive and disgusting alien creatures ever to explode onto the cinema screen.  The deeply disturbing hybridization of biomechanical and sexual overtones in Geiger’s work achieves a level of instinctive repulsion as yet unmatched by any other science fiction monster.

The alien is an implacable force of death; but it is the creatures’ method of attack that incites such utter panic.  It rapes you.  It literally rapes your brain to death.  Both Brett and Parker are mercilessly skull f*cked by the fanged tongue which bears no small resemblance to a penis with a mouth full of metal teeth.  This terrible tongue erupts from a giant curved cranium that further embodies the phallic threat.  It’s a double dose of male aggression and forced penetration.  Worst of all, the alien appears to enjoy the effect that its appearance has on its victims.

The death of Lambert near the end of the film is the one that affects me the most.  She is one of only two females in the Nostromo crew, and from the very beginning she displays a pensive mood that suggests that she can feel the impending doom awaiting herself and her crewmates.  As they descend to a godforsaken planetoid to investigate a purported distress signal, Lambert is afraid. We can see it on her face.  We just don’t know yet how right she is to be frightened.  Lambert's subconscious is thinking what the audience is thinking:

“We’re all fucked.”

As the individual crew members fall prey to the extraterrestrial invader, Lambert’s rising terror renders her useless.  When the alien finally appears in front of her, it doesn’t attack her immediately as it did Dallas.  It rises slowly, as if knowing that by merely revealing its hideous majesty Lambert will be petrified into immobility.  It is only Parker’s vain attempt to save Lambert that the alien breaks off and kills Parker rather quickly before returning its attention to its initial victim.  Still unable to move, Lambert remains frozen in place as the alien slides its tail between her legs.  This is the last time we see Lambert alive.

Now I know that this shot of the alien’s tail was borrowed from the attack on Brett, but it has a particular significance here, especially when taking into account the implicit sexual aggression of the creature’s nature.  Lambert is the only female crew member that the alien kills, and it seems to take a unique approach to her demise.  What is most lasting about the horror is that we do not see how Lambert is undone.  We only hear hyperventilating, and then her final scream merges with a roar from the creature.  Alien orgasm, perhaps?

Lambert’s now naked feet swing freely above the floor while rivulets of blood trickle down and drop off her toes.  How did her shoes and socks come off?  How is she hanging from the ceiling?  Was she hung there by the alien or did her death throes lock her muscles into a post mortem grip?  Ripley’s reaction to seeing Lambert's corpse suggests a visceral revulsion that can only be expressed in quaking shudders and unintelligible gasps.  Ripley's brain cannot believe what her eyes are telling her, and she bolts like a rabbit from the hastily glimpsed carnage.

Part of the lasting allure and terrifying mystery of “Alien” is what we don't see.  The film knows exactly what to show us in order to scare us out of our minds.  More crucially, it knows what not to show.  Sometimes suggestion is more potent than the literal.  Sometimes all that's needed is to hint at the horror, and the mind unwillingly delves into psychological depths previously undared.  At the bottom, we are assaulted by the acknowledgement of the basest instincts of human nature.  We are confronted by our Id, and it wants to kill us.