Twentieth Century Fox.
The Dinner: A "Memphisized" Barbecue Brisket Plate from Pete's Fremont Firepit (501 N 36th St.) with red potato salad, cole slaw and a respectable pickle.
The Movie: Prometheus at Meridian 16 (1501 Seventh Ave.).
The Screenplate: Prometheus tells the sci-fi tale of the titular spaceship's curiously overfunded journey from Earth to a planet that a couple of upstart (read: doomed) archaeologists believe is home to the alien race that created humanity. Also, it's somehow ostensibly connected to the four Alien movies. Also, it's directed by Ridley Scott, and despite sharing a lot of coincidences with Scott's first take on the xenomorphs, it's supposedly neither a direct prequel or a reboot. In a summer overshadowed by the completion of a high-profile trilogy and a film that actually had movies made for the specific purpose of introducing its main characters, Prometheus' will-they-or-won't-they with its source material was a refreshing sidestep to the modern blockbuster for some, while others didn't as much appreciate the mystery.Many reviews took fault with the labyrinthine plot of Prometheus, which promises a mission of discovery, but can mostly only come up with more questions. Belligerent and confused internet screeds were once again levelled on co-screenwriter/former Lost scribe Damon Lindelof, who has wracked up over an impressive 120 hours convincing television audiences that their rapt attention to almost complete nonsense would somehow pay off eventually. Then again, considering a sequel (pre-sequel? alien vs. prequel?) seems pretty much inevitable at this point in the industry, I find it merciless to fault a film series for stringing you along blind for a couple of hours just because you still carry a grudge on how the smoke monster kinda ended up sucking.
Some reviews blame the erratic, self-destructive, often downright hilarious behavior of Prometheus's crew members for taking them out of the tense atmosphere, such as a geologist who cuts and runs at the first sight of a long dead body, but takes overt childlike wonder to what looks like an angry phallic symbol that was genetically engineered ONLY to murder things in sexually suggestive way. However, Prometheus is tied to the Alien Universe (whether it seems to like it or not), which is itself married to the Horror genre -- if there wasn't a part of these characters that guided them towards the most creative demises possible, what would be the point?
But I don't really buy into either critique. What Prometheus was for me was a thoroughly satisfying treat to start off the summer, whether it be from the Avatar-tier world of captivating visuals that make a legitimate push at the boundaries of 3D as a medium, the masterfully basic first act that introduces us to that world as if we the audience were just another chilly, invasive probe, the ingenious action sequences, or simply the admirably precise, T.E. Lawrence-inspired performance by Michael Fassbender as the android David. There's just so much to love about this movie if you aren't looking for a repeat of the specific claustrophobic thrill of the original Alien, which sheds some light into Prometheus's marketing uncertainty towards directly tying to the Alien quadrilogy: you're not guaranteed to like Prometheus more, but you are probably going to feel it more.
To satisfy the visceral, chest-bursting impact of Prometheus and properly welcome a beautiful summer of halfway cooperative weather and properly vanquished traitors, one would need a triumphant stack of barbecued meat. For the appropriately gigantic heap of dead animal, I recommend Pete's Fremont Firepit, who can serve up an order of their tender, delicious brisket "Memphisized."
While I'm not sure if "Memphisized" is supposed to refer to an organic shortening of "Memphis-sized" or if the meal is supposed to be rendered more like Memphis, which would have a startlingly larger amount of beef brisket than any other city in this scenario. What I do know is that it amounts to a mountain of food that feels devastating even spread across a few sittings -- if only because its so hard to stop shoveling it into your face in between blasts of sauce.
While Pete's is a relateively new destination for barbecue, it has already managed to adopt an impressively familiar ambience, which can't be hurt by being owned by the fact the possessive "Pete" is Peter Glick, who is also proprietor of Fremont pastrami sandwich/pub quiz landmark Roxy's Diner. Glick's deep ties to Fremont inspired the creation of his Firepit, in part modelled after a long-erased community gathering point along the Burke-Gilman Trail. Also, it has a foosball league. That's just a no-brainer.
At the end of the day, Prometheus and Pete's are two great properties that may very well run into disadvantageous expectations beneath the weight of their pedigree, even if they make admirably little effort to connect the two. Regardless, I highly recommend letting both full, distinct tastes into your summer.