Disclosure Day shows the best, and worst, of what made Spielberg a legend

What makes a good Steven Spielberg movie? Or more importantly, what makes a Spielberg movie so good?
We may not all be film studies majors, cinephiles or insufferable critics, but it shouldn't be an especially hard question.
And by extension, it shouldn't be too confusing why his new Disclosure Day — a cagily vague thriller that has kept all but its alien-arrival theme shrouded in titillating obscurity — had already drummed up early excitement, prompting Oscar buzz and talk of summer-tentpole status.
And yet this intentionally dense, occasionally mawkish parable on belief and faith in humanity seems to bite off more than it can chew — both philosophically and narratively.
Because by mixing far-reaching — at times inscrutable — observations with both an alienating storytelling conceit and Spielberg's typical melodrama, the result tends to track into a half-compelling, half-finished grab bag of disconnected ideas.
The effective Spielbergian qualities are all still in the setup — following a whistleblower with a backpack full of secrets (Josh O'Connor as Dr. Daniel Kellner), the shadowy government agent obsessed with keeping that information from getting out (Colin Firth as Noah Scanlon), a meteorologist suddenly speaking in an incomprehensible alien language (Emily Blunt as Margaret Fairchild) and the Morpheus-like man on the phone trying to push this whole prophecy thing across the finish line (Colman Domingo as Hugo Wakefield).
Confused? Don't worry, you're supposed to be. Taking the concept of "in medias res" to new mainstream heights, we are dropped into the midst of the action with an impressive show of confidence in the deductive abilities of the audience. From an opening scene showing Kellner escaping Scanlon's goons, which could operate as the climax of an entire movie, we are rarely given an expositional hand to hold.
In fact, it's not until literally the final sentence that the full scope of Spielberg's ambitious meditation on the true quality of humanity even tries to come together.
That warm-and-fuzzy message — along with a few expertly choreographed car chases and ticking-clock newsroom scenes — absolutely echo what is peak Spielberg. That is, the heightened reality of an inherently cinematic (and, therefore, at least a little unbelievably silly) concept, handled with such honesty and frank sentimentality you can't help but be swept up in the spectacle.

Though not so fast; while this sci-fi thriller hasn't exactly split the reviewers, it has led to more than a few scratching their heads. Or doing the dance so typical of critics confronted with an extravagant project by a venerated creator — awkwardly making excuses for it, or themselves, as to why they failed by disliking it.
Here, there are more than a few excuses for that. Though not himself a writer, Spielberg's creative process involves frequent and comprehensive collaboration with those in charge of the script. When putting together Jurassic Park, he famously went through four screenwriters, at one point having it written a few pages at a time under his guidance — and with iconic portions independently dreamt up by him.
While Jurassic Park collaborator David Koepp was in charge of screenwriting this time, Disclosure Day was ostensibly drawn from a 2023 scaffold Spielberg wrote on an iPad notes app. And seemingly brought over from that initial idea was a desire to turn his typical storytelling style on its head — performing instead a high-wire act of withholding the film's arc and exposition until the last possible moment.
There are other hints at Spielberg's challenging himself. From E.T. to A.I., the vast majority of his filmography rests on the theme of hope in the simple but effective metaphor of children and childhood. But they are nowhere to be found this time around, despite Spielberg dealing with that theme more directly than almost any of his other movies.
The sacrifice necessary to accomplish this magic trick is evident. By jumping into these characters' stories halfway, we never build an emotional connection to them, or stay with anyone long enough to care. And other than Blunt's fantastic Margaret, they rarely see much evolution: from the Edward Snowden-esque Kellner to the campily foreboding Scanlon, the back-into-it and scattershot plotting doesn't allow for cohesive backstories, or worldviews substantially altered at the end.
Meanwhile, the deeper themes of religion and our place in the universe are handled with a clumsiness that undercuts any sense of seriousness. For example: Kellner's partner Jane (Eve Hewson) at one point frets over whether society can continue to believe in God after discovering the truth about aliens.

But like in some of Spielberg's other lesser works (I'm looking at you, War Horse) high-minded warm and fuzzies — and a cloying preoccupation with the inherency of human compassion — get in the way of grounded and believable drama. Like in the above scene: the whole cringe-inducing dialogue is written and delivered with all the artifice and self-seriousness of a high schooler's diary entry. A sense of solemnity that is then undercut by the intentional Spielberg goofiness of hapless henchmen knocked on their rear-ends.
In any other instance this can, and has, worked. But by mixing it with something high-minded as Disclosure Day's aims, Spielberg's latest just never seems to gel. And especially given his seeming intention to experiment with narrative more than tell a story, much of Disclosure Day feels designed to be unsatisfyingly inaccessible — basically turning it into his Tenet, Christopher Nolan's film in reverse that continues to divide the director's fans to this day.
Which, like Tenet, does not make Disclosure Day a failure. But its focus on narrative experimentation over cleanly effective storytelling makes it hard to enjoy — even if, stylistically, Spielberg's mastery still shines through.
And given that mastery has already made "Spielberg" and "cinema" about as connected "Einstein" and "genius," "Kobe" and "hook-shot" or "Mr. Christie" and "good cookies," that might just be enough.
cbc.ca




