Disclosure Day. A Film About Aliens That’s Really About Us
(A note on Steven Spielberg’s Disclosure Day)
Spielberg made a film about aliens. But what stays with you when you leave the cinema is a question about us.
The premise, put simply, is about extraterrestrials and the government agency trying to hide their existence. But saying that is like saying The Godfather is about the mafia. The Corleone family story exists within the mafia, but it isn’t about it. This is similar: the aliens trigger the story, but they aren’t the protagonists. The humans are.
And that’s where the film works best.
Spielberg takes this old theme (ETs, Area 51, classified files, nods to Roswell and The X-Files) to say something about the moment we’re living in. A world where wars are very present but barely explained, where authoritarian figures hold more power than usual, where distrust in institutions, disinformation, and division are everywhere. The film doesn’t address any of this directly. It doesn’t need to.
What it does is use the idea that we are not alone as a mirror: if other beings exist, what does that say about us? What should we value? What should we be?
The answer the film proposes is almost uncomfortable in its simplicity: empathy. Recentring. Less power, fewer secrets, less technology as an end in itself.
It works, in no small part, because it’s a genuine emotional rollercoaster. Spielberg builds the narrative to sustain constant tension. There’s a permanent sense of pursuit, urgency and danger, and a continuous anxiety about whether the main characters will manage to escape. At times, even the alien technologies themselves contribute to that feeling of intrusion and surveillance. The result is a film that blends chase, mystery, romance, science fiction and suspense very effectively. You always want to know what happens next.
Great acting does the trick
Emily Blunt is particularly strong. I’ll confess that at times I had the sense that her appearance no longer quite matches her age, perhaps due to the kind of cosmetic work that has become increasingly common in Hollywood. But that quickly stops mattering. She is such an expressive, intense and capable actress that she completely absorbs the viewer’s attention. And she isn’t alone. The film is full of good actors doing solid, emotionally convincing work.
I also found the design of the aliens interesting. There’s a clear wink to the iconography of Roswell, Area 51 and The X-Files — these are extraterrestrials close to the classic “grey” image, the large-eyed humanoids that have been part of popular culture for decades.
Knowing a little more about astronomy today, and about the enormous potential diversity of life in the universe, this perhaps wouldn’t have been my choice. Still, it makes sense within the story and within the cinematic tradition Spielberg is clearly paying tribute to.
Another interesting element is the way the film handles religion. There are moments where it seems to acknowledge an old fear: that the discovery of extraterrestrial life might shake religious belief. But Spielberg seems to suggest the opposite — that religion can survive and adapt. I’m not a particularly religious person, so I read that message more broadly. Not just as a question of faith, but as a question of human identity.
Our philosophy, our values, our culture don’t need to disappear in the face of a discovery of this magnitude. They can simply adapt.
That’s actually one of the ideas I liked most in the film. Spielberg acknowledges the human fear of the unknown, but refuses to infantilise humanity. He doesn’t assume we’ll react in the worst possible way. On the contrary (he suggests that a discovery like this could bring something positive). It could put us in perspective. It could force us to look at ourselves differently.
And then there’s something I genuinely love: the film leaves room to think. It doesn’t close every door. It doesn’t explain everything. Several questions hang in the air when the credits begin to roll. That’s simultaneously frustrating and wonderful. Frustrating because we want answers. Wonderful because we keep thinking about the film after it ends.
The original story is Spielberg’s own, though the screenplay was written by David Koepp, a long-time collaborator who worked with him on Jurassic Park, War of the Worlds and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. You feel that combination: the emotional, deeply human quality we associate with Spielberg, but also a strong sense of adventure, suspense and discovery.
This isn’t an action film in the traditional sense (it doesn’t live on explosions or constant excess). But it has enough action to keep the narrative moving and enough suspense to keep you glued to the screen. The characters have nuance, rarely is anyone entirely villainous, and the music does what Spielberg’s music always does: amplifies without explaining.
It’s not at the level of E.T. But it didn’t need to be.
In the end, what holds isn’t the aliens. It’s the question they raise about ourselves. Who we are, how we see ourselves, and how we might change if we discovered we were never alone.
Perhaps that’s the film’s real provocation: the possibility that we aren’t quite as special as we thought. And that this realisation need not diminish us. But might finally help us understand who we are.
4/5