TV Review: Alien: Earth (Disney+)

The Franchise Evolves, and So Do the Questions

I’ve been a fan of Alien since the original 1979 classic made me afraid of air ducts and blinking monitors. Aliens (1986) took that fear, strapped it into a dropship, and dropped it into a combat zone. So when Alien: Earth landed on Disney+, promising a return to Ridley Scott’s grimy, industrial aesthetic, I was already halfway sold.

And yes, the series looks like the original film—right down to the lighting, sound design, and that perpetual sense of impending doom. There’s an immediate hit of déjà vu, a deep nostalgic comfort wrapped in dread. But then it veers in a direction I didn’t expect: it starts asking better questions.

I thought this would be another lone-xenomorph-on-the-loose story. One alien, one city, a trail of meatbags who couldn’t stay indoors. Instead, Alien: Earth digs deep into the thematic foundations of both Alien and Aliens: the cold efficiency of corporations, the creeping privatization of government, bioethics, and the blurred line between man and machine.

What we get is an eerie, methodical expansion of the universe. The setting—a remote, storm-lashed island research facility—is where most of the season unfolds, and it’s claustrophobic in all the right ways. Wunderkind Boy Kavalier is at the center of it all, navigating synth-human hybrids, new alien species that make the original xenomorphs seem almost quaint, and the psychological mess of being human in a world where identity is…flexible.

The character work is surprisingly solid for a sci-fi-horror series. Each player gets an arc, a moment, a reckoning. Except for Kirsch. Kirsch stays the course—and thank the writers for it. He’s the moral compass, the philosopher, the voice of reason in the madness. Timothy Olyphant turns in a pitch-perfect performance as Kirsch, leaving his usual wisecracking gunslinger persona behind but somehow still delivering the best lines.

Another standout is Essie Davis, who I adored as Phryne Fisher, and who brings depth and nuance to her role here. She spends most of the series afraid, but never once flinches into cliché. There’s no screaming or hysterics—just raw, honest fear that feels earned.

While Alien: Earth doesn’t lean heavily on horror (a win in my books), it does deliver when it comes to the core of what made the franchise great: a believable, lived-in future. One sequence—seemingly throwaway, but quietly brilliant—follows several characters through a high-rise apartment. It’s a mundane glimpse into future Earth life, and it somehow tells you everything you need to know about how far we’ve come…and how little we’ve changed.

Bottom line: Alien: Earth is worth your time. It’s smart, unsettling, deeply atmospheric, and refreshingly uninterested in just rehashing old tricks. The alien threat is back—but it’s the human ones that’ll make you lose sleep.

Watch it.

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