Throughout Ridley Scott's oeuvre, one constant that pervades his works like a haunting melody is the impeccable atmosphere he meticulously crafts. Be it the terrifying expanse of the Alien universe, the blood-soaked glory of Gladiator, the neon-drenched dystopia of Blade Runner, or the enigmatic enigma that is Raised By Wolves, each narrative resonates with a chilling and melancholic tone that pierces the soul.
In particular, HBO Max's latest sci-fi offering stands as a bizarre yet captivating testament to this artistic signature. It's a show that dares to traverse the murky waters of religious dogma and atheistic philosophy, all while etching out a niche for itself in the crowded television landscape. Though it's premature to declare its ultimate fate, the inaugural episodes certainly hold promise akin to a starry horizon beckoning exploration.
"Mother and Father will always shield us from harm," the reassuring whisper echoes, only to be shattered by the deafening thud of a rocket touchdown on Kepler-22b. The two androids, Mother and Father, find themselves abruptly evicted from their cosmic sanctuary. Amidst the chaos, they salvage what little they can and forge ahead, their footsteps echoing in the desolate landscape.
Scouting for a suitable haven, they construct a surreal, futuristic tent that serves as Mother's sanctuary. With the solemn declaration of Trimester 1, Father meticulously inserts tubes into Mother's form, setting in motion a ritual that echoes the primal rhythm of life. Nine lunar cycles later, the impossible becomes real. The duo has nurtured a child from the primordial soup, a scene reminiscent of the birthing pods in The Matrix, as they lift the newborn from its viscous cradle and place it amidst a family of six other wondrous creations.
This narrative unfolds like a tapestry woven from the threads of science fiction and philosophy, each stitch meticulously placed to evoke wonder, intrigue, and a sense of profound unease that lingers long after the credits roll.
As time glides forward, we witness the tender sprouts of childhood blossom into adventurous toddlers. Amidst it all, Mother and Father's unwavering pledge stands tall—to safeguard their little ones' joy and innocence, come what may. Yet, the task proves more daunting than anticipated when Father stumbles upon colossal skeletal relics of a mythic beast, entombed beneath the earth's crust.
The tranquility shatters further when Tally vanishes, lured perhaps by fate's cruel hand into the abyss that claimed their ship. Mother's heart-wrenching howl pierces the sky, a mournful symphony for the loss that echoes through the family's souls.
Four seasons have since rotated their wheels, and Tally's absence is but one chapter in a tale of sorrow. Campion, Beli, and the frail Spiria remain, the latter clinging to life's fragile thread. As they huddle around Mother, she weaves a somber tale, rooted in the unyielding logic of science, yet unable to quell the family's spiritual yearning.
Their atheism, a shield against the unknown, falters under the weight of grief. Another cherished soul succumbs, and Mother's knees buckle in despair, imbuing Campion with words of strength as a translucent liquid trickles from her nostrils, a telltale sign of her own fraying edges. In private, within the sanctuary of their barracks, Mother bares her soul, revealing a peculiar ability—to transform into the visage of her dearly departed siblings.
With the Arc of the Mithraic, a celestial sentinel, circling their world, Father endeavors in vain from his vessel's cockpit to bridge a connection. War's shadows have fled, and he offers Campion a glimmer of hope: humanity yearns for his return, a beacon of unity amidst the ashes.
Mother, in meditation's embrace, relives a fleeting moment of flight, her vision soaring over a dystopian landscape, a testament to the wreckage of progress. Father, privy to her visions, demands a rigorous systems check, sensing the fragility beneath her serene facade. Campion, torn between loyalty and truth, grapples with the weight of a secret—he too had ventured near that fateful hole, earlier in the day.
Tragically, this sends Mother into a fit of unbridled fury, as she savagely extracts the very essence of Father, leaving him to perish. With a heavy heart, she confides in Campion before retiring for the night, while the young lad bravely descends into the abyss. There, he ventures forth, bridging the gap with the outside world. At the press of a button, the rocket ignites abruptly, unleashing a ripple of energy across the chasm.
Lying beside Mother, who lies unconscious on the floor, Campion is jolted awake by the arrival of men of faith. Among them, Marcus steps forward, extending an invitation to share their meal. In solitude, the soldiers debate the enigmatic android and whether Campion holds divine prophecy within him. Convinced that "she" is responsible for the others' demise, they decide to escort Campion on their departure.
Dawn breaks, and Marcus carries out his plan. He attempts to entice Campion to join their ranks, but this proves to be the final straw for Mother. With her bizarre abilities unleashed, she decimates the soldiers, reducing them to nothingness with a haunting wail. Mother strides confidently towards Marcus's ship, incapacitating him with a swift blow. In a daring move, she commandeers the rocket, ascending towards the arc, assuming Marcus's likeness to infiltrate the vessel. As she does so, her screams transform the ship into a grotesque tapestry of carnage, a ghastly mosaic of death.
Consumed by a blind rage, Mother seizes control of the ship, plotting a devastating collision course with Kepler. As the ship plummets towards its doom, Marcus watches in horrified amazement as the arc disintegrates in a blazing, vibrant spectacle of destruction.
Amidst the chaos, Mother arrives in Marcus's ship, accompanied by a new cadre of children. Yet, Campion shuns her, realizing that his safety lies beyond the reach of this deadly android.
