The CGI critter - which goes from looking like a wad of colourless, chewed-up gummy bears to a wet orchid to an angry squid-like thing straight out of the bedside dream-journal of H.R. Giger - quickly has the dwindling supply of astronauts running scared, from one airlocked pod to the next, as they try to contain and/or kill it.
But Calvin, who can hold his - er, its - breath for long periods, and whose every cell is both "a muscle, a brain and an eye", as Hugh puts it, prolongs their extermination efforts, at one point even running around on the outside of the station, like a misbehaving pet that will eat you if you let it back inside.
(The film includes a couple of imaginative Calvin-cam shots, which seem to show the space station from the alien's point of view, as if viewed through a gelatinous goo.)
While this ever-more-nerve-racking game of cat-and-mouse is well calibrated by director Daniel Espinosa, the film's real interest derives from the human interactions.
The excellent cast includes Jake Gyllenhaal as something of a shell-shocked ex-military doctor; Rebecca Ferguson as a quarantine-obsessed CDC scientist; Ryan Reynolds as a wisecracking engineer/space cowboy; Hiroyuki Sanada as the jaded old-timer; and Olga Dihovichnaya as the crew's no-nonsense Russian commander.
The sometimes conflicting dynamics of their individual temperaments lead occasionally to poor decision-making. While this may be bad for their health, it's great for the movie.
The screenplay (by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick of Deadpool) limits its actual japes to Reynolds' dialogue, opting instead for a more sober overall approach. (A wryly ironic reading from the book Goodnight Moon by Gyllenhaal's character is the only attempt at profundity. It's not that deep, but it's moving.)
Life has cool effects, real suspense and a sweet twist. It ain't rocket science, but it does what it does well - even, one might say, with a kind of genius.