When Ridley Scott released Prometheus and Alien: Covenant, the main criticism levied against them essentially boiled down to that they didn’t provide the same kind of sci-fi thrills as Alien and Aliens, two of the most beloved films of all time. Anyone who dislikes those films because they have too much philosophy and not enough acidic alien spit will be satisfied by Fede Alvarez’s Alien: Romulus, a movie with so many callbacks to the entire series (even both Fincher’s Alien 3 and William Gibson’s unproduced script for that film have echoes here, as do the prequels) that they sometimes feel like extra weight on this movie spaceship. Luckily, Alvarez’s skill with pace and use of setting, along with his obvious love for this series, keep Romulus afloat. It’s fun, tense, and slimy. It’s also nowhere near as ambitious as some of the films in this series deemed failures. We can’t have everything.

There’s a definite sense that Alvarez is going back to the basics of Scott’s first film (which is a good thing). Once again, we’re introduced to a crew of interstellar blue-collar workers, led by a heroine who we know will be forced to mine veins of courage in herself that she didn’t know were there. In this case, it’s Rain Carradine (Cailee Spaeny of Civil War), a woman who believes that she’s reached her quota of hours in a mine on a planet that never gets sunshine, only to learn that the goalposts have been moved and she can’t get off of it for nearly another decade. While mourning her murdered future with her friends, she discovers that they have a plan to raid a space station that they’ve discovered floating above the planet. Get on board, take the cryo pods needed for the trip, and wake up in a new galaxy. What could go wrong?

Rain is joined closely on this journey by Andy (David Jonsson of Rye Lane), a synthetic whose objective is to care for Rain like a brother, and she cares for him as much in reverse. Most of the Alien films have used androids to ask some of their thorniest moral questions, and that’s the case again here in a number of twists that make Andy’s choices – the ones that should be guided by programming instead of human emotion – into some of the most interesting of the film. Without spoiling anything, Andy’s objective changes when the crew gets to the space station, and everyone discovers they’re not alone. Archie Renaux, Isabela Merced, Spike Fearn, and Aileen Wu star as the other travellers who will learn what a Facehugger is the hard way.

Eschewing the complex narratives of the prequels, Romulus has an almost charmingly direct plot: Five people and a synthetic find their way aboard a space station carrying some truly perfect killing machines and have to fight to escape. That’s about it. The thin plot allows Alvarez and co-writer Rodo Sayagues to focus on world-building and set pieces. The production design here by Naaman Marshall (who worked on The Dark Knight and The Prestige) is some of the best in a blockbuster sci-fi movie in a very long time. Like the original, there’s a sense that the space these characters occupy isn’t a sterile set but a place that has been lived – and died – in before. It’s hard to overstate the importance of that in a film like this. When we feel like the people in jeopardy are in real, three-dimensional places with histories of their own, we can feel like their plight is real too. Alvarez and his team have created a phenomenal setting on Romulus and Remus, the two halves of the space station on which almost all of this film takes place. It’s not quite as brilliantly claustrophobic as the first film, but it’s close enough, and indicative of how much Alvarez understands about why that film remains a masterpiece.

He also knows how to stage a sequence. It’s hard to pick a favourite here, whether it’s the hallway run with an army of Facehuggers or the stunningly well-crafted elevator sequence, or the bonkers final scenes that are likely to be the most divisive aspect of this film. Editor Jake Roberts (Hell or High Water) does phenomenal work here, too, knowing exactly how to cut this film to amplify tension, and cinematographer Galo Olivares pays homage to past imagery from this series while also giving the film a sweaty, dark, foreboding visual palette of its own.

Performance has always been an essential aspect of this series – the star of Priscilla gives a very physical turn, allowing us to feel Rain’s terror in subtle ways. She never resorts to histrionics, playing Rain like a person who has been forced to “get the job done” before and will do so again today. The first Alien is notoriously known as a haunted house movie in space. It’s a single location with an alien instead of a ghost. At its best, Alien: Romulus understands this, seeking to replicate all of the ingredients that go into this time-tested formula. We want to feel as trapped as the characters in a haunted house or on a spaceship, wondering how they could possibly escape a nightmare that’s growing in intensity with each passing minute. And we do through most of the film.