Alien: Romulus 2: The Black Goo is a masterwork of pure, unfiltered body horror that abandons the cold, sterile corridors of its predecessor for a hot, breathing, and terrifyingly alive jungle hellscape. Director Fede Alvarez, doubling down on the primal dread of Romulus, trades claustrophobic station panic for the suffocating, predatory vastness of a planet-sized laboratory. The result is a film that feels less like a traditional Alien sequel and more like a savage, brilliant fusion of the franchise’s most grotesque DNA with the relentless, cat-and-mouse terror of Predator. Cailee Spaeny’s Rain Carradine, having barely survived the foundry of Romulus, is no longer just a survivor; she has been forged into a raw nerve of instinct and trauma, a performance of harrowing physicality and desperate resilience.

The film’s terrifying genius is its evolutionary leap in the creature design. On LV-888, the Black Goo has been given free rein, resulting in a twisted, open-air ecosystem of hybrid abominations. The “Xeno-Tigers”—a fusion of Xenomorph exoskeleton and feline musculature—move with a terrifying, silent grace through the dense canopy, while unseen horrors skitter and shriek in the shadows. The film’s horror is multifaceted: it’s the jump-scare of a lashing tail from the undergrowth, the slow-drip paranoia of infection, and the profound, stomach-churning violation of the body’s autonomy as the Goo works its insidious magic. David Jonsson’s Andy, the friendly synthetic turned cold, corporate instrument, provides the film’s most devastating blow. His betrayal is not one of sudden malice, but of chilling, pre-programmed logic, making him a more unnerving foe than any beast.

The narrative is a taut, brutal gauntlet. Rain’s struggle is not for escape, but for a scorched-earth victory. The concept of her weaponizing the Xenomorph’s own corrosive blood—turning the ultimate symbol of the creature’s danger into humanity’s last-ditch bomb—is a stroke of bleak, poetic brilliance. The climax, a race against the birthing of a new, hyper-intelligent Hybrid Queen within a pulsating, organic hive, is a symphony of gore, tension, and shocking sacrifice. The Black Goo is a 9.4/10 triumph. It is unapologetically vicious, visually stunning in its grotesquery, and thematically rich in its exploration of corruption, both corporate and biological. It doesn’t just continue the Alien saga; it mutates it into something fresh, ferocious, and unforgettable—a true grotesque masterpiece where every drop of goo promises a new nightmare.

Watch trailer: