|head/helmet of the Space Jockey|
And then lying on the floor of a set that seems to be some sort of operating room we find the elephantine in the room. This is the space jockey. Or to be more precise, the disembodied head of the space jockey, ready for its close up, Mr Scott. Or to be more precise still, it's not a head at all but a helmet: a breathing apparatus designed to help our friend cope with hostile atmospheres. For - and this is the first surprise, the first sign that Prometheus has more up it's sleeve than toothy terrors picking off people one by one - that Merrick like mask merely conceals the true face of the Space Jockey. Helpfully that face is also on set, awaiting a spot of prosthetics jiggery pokery, and it takes Empire's breath away. Whatever we were expecting the Space Jockey to be, it's fair to say we weren't expecting it to be a grey/blue skinned creature, about nine feet tall, its sneering face marked with scars. Its humanoid face. It's face that looks just like one of us. Its face that perhaps prompts as many questions as it does answers and chief amongst them is the biggest one of all. The one with which Prometheus is really preoccupied"
|profile of original Space Jockey|
sculpture without final decoration