Disclosure Day: Spielberg's latest fails to convince

Disclosure Day: why Spielberg's new film fails to convince

A film that rests on the idea that a handful of alien videos on television could bring the world to a standstill. That is the starting point of Spielberg's latest, and the point where the whole thing starts to show its cardboard. In this day and age of the 21st century, with everything that has been broadcast on TV, social media and the internet, the premise barely holds up. And from there, the rest falls apart on its own.

The reception has been harsh. We are not talking about nuances: "a galactic-sized stinker", "a total dud", "a cosmic flop". The consensus, broadly speaking, is that the script has more holes than a colander and that the visual effects save nothing. Even those who admit some admiration for the director conclude that he has not made anything good since 2006.

A script with more holes than certainties

The central plot creaks. The film bets on the idea that a propaganda campaign with alien videos on television could paralyse the planet, even halt a third world war. Some sum it up with a sneer: the campaign by the mystery idiots was "awful". The problem is not the science fiction, it is asking the audience to swallow that narrative lever for two hours.

One of the most repeated complaints targets the running time: too much chase, not enough abduction. The recommendation going around is telling: watch the first fifteen minutes and the last thirty, and you miss nothing of the plot. In a blockbuster, that is a diagnosis.

Why does modern cinema disappoint so many people?

The conversation soon drifts towards something bigger than one film. The claim is that if there were good films like there used to be, much of the audience would not be wasting their time on forums. The underlying complaint: big-studio cinema has become a TooDeep4You product, where you pay twice, once for the ticket and once for the exegesis someone sells you afterwards.

The favourite target is the Hollywood factory and its established names. It is claimed that Spielberg, Coppola, Scott and Scorsese are finished and that the next generations are something else entirely. The criticism extends to consumption: people question why money keeps being spent on the most insulting duds. And some flatly state that they no longer watch modern American cinema because, they say, it made them gag after its golden age.

The comparison with The X-Files and the benchmark of science fiction

The bar being set is high and specific: any episode of The X-Files, even the weakest, runs circles around it. And for real science fiction, Gattaca is cited as the last great reference, with the complaint that since then there have only been adventures or action films with scientific holes as deep as ocean trenches.

Against that wall of disappointment, an exception appears. Someone argues that very few films are worth saving and recommends specific revenge and prison titles, with a slow pace, for anyone tired of films that feel like music videos. The response is lukewarm: the tip is appreciated, the title is noted, and the general complaining continues.

The point where the analysis gets stuck

The discussion ends up in trenches. One camp argues the film is decent entertainment, with clichés and plot points held together with clothespins, like everything else. Another responds with contempt and the conversation sours into personal insults and blocks. The question of whether it is worth paying to see remains without a common answer: for some it is a cosmic stinker; for others, an acceptable way to spend a while. And there it stays.