Arrival, based on the fabulous "Story of Your Life" by Ted Chiang, is the surprise of the year from visionary director Denis Villeneuve. By now, anything he does shouldn't be a surprise. Masquerading as a sci-fi blockbuster, the film is far more involved than you might expect. After several alien "shells" appear around the globe, the army enlists a linguist (Amy Adams) and a physicist (Jeremy Renner) to make contact with the occupants. In terms of plot, the film is straightforward: as the pair learns the alien language and attempts to discern their purpose on Earth, tensions around the globe escalate until violence breaks out. A breakthrough from the linguist prevents any carnage, however, and the aliens depart in peace.
Sound boring? Think again. The "breakthrough" in the alien language is more of a spiritual awakening in our linguist, wherein she glimpses the nature of the alien "Heptapods". Their language allows them to be in all times at once, rather than experiencing linear time. They reveal to her that, as she learns their language, she has begun to see the future, and that her free will may be exercised not by changing the future, but by adhering to it and learning from it. I can't say much more than that without spoiling the cinematic experience, but be aware that your tear ducts will get a full workout during the last twenty minutes.
Villeneuve, for all his subversive tendencies and cerebral wit, has outdone himself here. Taking the best parts of his previous work (the emotional heart of Prisoners, the dreamlike horrors and existential crisis of Enemy, and the climactic cinematography of Sicario), he fashions a startlingly cerebral film the likes of which I've not seen. I might compare it to a more beautiful version of Memento, in its non-linear structure and pacing. Actually, this film succeeds in every way that Interstellar failed, and if you saw that movie, you know exactly what I mean. There is no forced emotion here, and the nuances of Arrival are at least based in scientific and philosophic principles, whereas Interstellar goes for spectacle with little understanding of its own theoretical rules.
In his typically astonishing mastery of atmosphere, Villeneuve directs cinematographer Bradford Young (A Most Violent Year, Selma, Pawn Sacrifice) to the beautiful and strange, turning the plains of Montana into an ethereal vale of thick white fog. Long wideshots and graceful editing keep things grounded and picturesque, while moments of surrealism are accented by unweighted pans, not unlike in Gravity, that force us into a visual recognition of nonlinear storytelling. Notably, the scene when the humans enter the alien craft is the first time the camera becomes a character itself, and we watch in dizzying fashion as the scientists leap from their grounded lift to the walls of the vertical tunnel, and an artificial gravity anchors them. Much later, during the climax, our protagonist finds herself in the weightless, vertigo-inducing white mist where the Heptapods live, and the lack of distinguishable features forces us to similarly experience her ecstasy and enlightenment.
If you had told me my favorite movie of the fall would be about aliens, the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, and a strange hybrid of free will determinism, I would have laughed at you. But as we free-fall into Oscar season, I hope you take the time to see this one. It's solid sci-fi with minimal blockbuster crap, and a lot of heart to boot. Amy Adams perfectly plays as our haunted lead, and her usually Disneyfied princess smile is replaced with a tragic stare, and she shows us every subtlety in her character as she reclaims her past (her future? I don't know anymore) and declares her autonomous decision to continue living. What's better than smart, beautiful, feminist science fiction that sends your sensibilities on a postmodern trip while playing your heartstrings like a cello? Not much, my friends.
IMDb: Arrival
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