2021 reads, #103. A recent rewatch of Prometheus had me looking up the Wikipedia page for the alien race featured in all the Alien movies; and while it was a surprise at first to find that the page was the length and depth of the biography of some major figure in world history, upon reflection I realized that that shouldn't really be a surprise at all, after having the race featured in one slightly different form or another through a dozen feature films and hundreds of comic book issues. That got me thinking again about Swiss artist H.R. Giger, whose legitimately unsettling yet simultaneously metal-album-cover cheesy "biomecha" paintings in the 1970s (some of the first in the fine-art world to be painted with airbrushes, along with more entrenched gallery people like Ed Paschke) provided the first inspiration for the aliens in this franchise, and who was eventually hired by director Ridley Scott to come to London to design and build many of the first film's most iconic setpieces, for which he won an Oscar and forever changed the world of dark sci-fi (not to mention metal album covers).
On an impulse, I checked out the two books on him the Chicago Public Library has, 1977's Necronomicon -- Giger's debut publication, the book that made it into Salvador Dali's hands by way of a mutual friend, who gave it to Alejandro Jodorowsky, who hired Giger to work on concept paintings for his ultimately doomed production of Dune, which is how he came to the attention of fellow staffer Dan O'Brannon, who soon afterward successfully pitched his Alien spec script to 20th Century Fox, which is how it is that Giger did all the alien design for that movie -- and then a book made out of Giger's concept art from Alien itself, first published in 1979 right after the movie came out. Or, at least I thought this was just going to be a book of concept paintings; but it instead turned out to be a much more interesting thing, which is those paintings combined with an extremely candid journal Giger kept at the time about the entire experience, and the copious still photos he took on the sets and inside the effects workshops where he and his buddies worked.
It's fascinating, I have to admit, which is why I thought it was worth writing about here at Goodreads, even though I won't be doing any such write-up for the more traditional exhibit-catalogue-style Necronomicon; fully of snotty opinionated rants from the uncompromising Giger about all the details of the production that drove him crazy, it has the same "fuck these California normies" vibe as Charles Bukowski has in Hollywood, his memoir of adapting his story Barfly into a movie starring Mickey Rourke as a fictionalized version of Bukowski himself. That's being kind of unfair, though; Giger in fact has all kinds of complimentary things to say about the various hardworking production designers and special-effects bottom-rung employees that brought his nightmarish airbrushed visions to full three-dimensional life, plus he pretty rightly gives a lot of credit to Scott himself for having the singular vision of the film he did, and being Giger's quiet champion at various points when it seemed no one else would. It's this unfiltered look at how the sausage is made (literally in this case), combined with the nerd-amazing production photos, combined with the flabbergasting paintings Giger originally made, that makes this such a spectacular book, and comes recommended to an audience way beyond the fanboys who just like gawking at his robot-squid vagina-penis monstrosities.