Close Encounters with Disclosure Day

My little filmmaker often wants to see a movie to celebrate his last day of school. This year we had the pleasure of seeing Disclosure Day and, after leaving the movie in the silence that follows something that really touches you, I felt compelled to re-watch Close Encounters of the Third Kind and think through some of the things Steven Spielberg is wrestling with and what he wants to tell us. There will be no spoilers here, just me on a journey to understand the humanity and art behind all of it.

Spielberg as Filmmaker

I am a fan of Spielberg’s, but not a super fan. Unlike my ten-year-old son, I cannot name off a list of his credits without having IMDB actually in front of me, but I’ve watched (and enjoyed) most of the things he’s made. More importantly (and selfishly) his vision for the world was omnipresent in my childhood. E.T. the Extraterrestrial was probably my first exposure to his work and we still watched and re-watched Indiana Jones films on VHS, DVD, and Blu-ray (sometimes streaming if no one wants to go find the Blu-ray). Close Encounters was made the year before I was born, but you couldn’t grow up in the 80s and not see it somewhere. His work was so ubiquitous I didn’t even think about the craft behind it until watching The Fabelmans last year (and having my son watch the first half so he could see what he might be in for in the future).

Because there is art in all of this, and it’s no accident he captured our hearts, minds and screens. I think I sensed this with films like Empire of the Sun (which my son hasn’t watched, but there are days I can whistle “Suo Gan” and place myself directly inside certain scenes—hey, is Spielberg the genesis of my obsession with World War II?). Together with Saving Private Ryan and Schindler’s List, these are the films where I start to see the work behind the movie (in a good way) and not just be (only) swept away by the story.

Parallels between Close Encounters and Disclosure Day

I’m not educated enough in the language of film to really break it down (this isn’t the medium where I want to go too far behind the curtain, at least until my son takes me there), but there are strong threads that link Close Encounters with Disclosure Day, ways of framing a view, finding and tuning an emotional pitch (overwhelming us only to pull back hard and let us linger in a single moment).

Last night we were all in awe of the things Spielberg does with practical effects in Close Encounters. I wanted like hell to remember all the images in the montage reveal in Disclosure Day to see if any of those moments made it. Both films can definitely exist in the same universe. And there are crossovers in multilingual communication, people who are compelled or called (and their unbelieving partners), faith in general, the general shape of aliens, trains, tyrannical restraint (one government, one not, which is interesting in itself) and, of course, road trips!

And then there’s the kids. I won’t talk about the parallels here, but IYKYK and if you don’t, go watch Disclosure Day.

The Boy Inside Spielberg

Many have written about the way Spielberg centers a child’s view, and it works, that re-experiencing of the world. For me, it’s also part of the magic of parenthood, because you get to see things fresh and hard and unfiltered and to remember how something small (or big) can shape you forever in ways you may not later remember. Like how the mania Richard Dreyfuss displays in Close Encounters echoes Michelle Williams’ in The Fablemans.

What touched me deeply in The Fablemans was the way the boy was traumatized by the train crash in The Greatest Show on Earth and went home to act it out over and over until he was (mostly) in control of this. I’d love to do a deep dive on trains in Spielberg movies soon, but last night I definitely noticed when Richard Dreyfuss was playing with a toy train in his living room. And that he’s stopped in front of train tracks during a pivotal scene. In Disclosure Day, there is a train scene as well, and I squeezed my husband’s hand so tight as we watched that scene because I could feel myself inside the experience of that little boy still tugging and and playing with the thing that scared him so much, that he knew could scare us too. I dare say this one was the pinnacle of that. I don’t know if I (or my husband’s hand) could handle another. It was awe-inspiring and also I ached for him.

The Artist with Something to Say

It’s that empathetic conveyance that really makes Spielberg an artist. His ability to be in touch with the humanity in himself and to reach out and demand (or beg) us to be in touch with our own. It’s something I experienced when I was pregnant and in the months post-partum—the ability to see all humans for their basic humanity—it was inspiring, empowering, and overwhelming but it changed me in the best of ways. Empathy is gently the subject of Close Encounters and more explicitly (along with faith) in Disclosure Day. And I get it. It’s also what gives me hope, because we need connection right now. With each other, with our own humanity. We need to listen.

My son has a Disclosure Day poster ready to hang on his wall. He hasn’t seen Empire of the Sun yet, but I don’t think he’ll get through the summer without watching it. We’ve been trying to protect his tender heart until he might be ready. Because I hope his heart stays tender in some ways for his whole life, despite how hard this can sometimes be. It worked for Spielberg.