Close Encounters of the Paternal Kind
Think back to 1977’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It’s often remembered as a wondrous, awe-inspiring film about first contact. But at its core, it’s a story about a man utterly failing his family.
Roy Neary, played by Richard Dreyfuss, doesn’t just see a UFO; he becomes so obsessed with the cosmic call that he abandons his wife and children. He sculpts mashed potatoes into Devil’s Tower while his son cries, and ultimately chooses to board a spaceship to parts unknown over reconciling with his family. The film frames this not as a tragedy, but as a spiritual apotheosis. The aliens don’t arrive to unite humanity; they arrive to give one suburban dad a way out. The ultimate father figure in the film isn't a human, but the benevolent, almost maternal, alien mothership that welcomes a lost boy home.
E.T. and the Father-Shaped Void
If Close Encounters is about a father escaping, E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982) is about the void a father’s absence leaves behind. Elliott’s family is fractured by a recent separation; his dad is famously “in Mexico with Sally.” The film is saturated with this loss. Into this father-shaped hole stumbles a lost, lonely alien who is also separated from his family. E.T. becomes a surrogate brother and a secret confidant, a magical being who helps a boy process his grief and loneliness. The government figures who hunt E.T. are faceless, threatening, and sterile—a stark contrast to the warmth of Elliott’s home. The only sympathetic adult in authority is “Keys,” the scientist who reveals he had a similar childhood dream. He doesn’t represent the government; he represents a man who remembers what it was like to be a boy who needed to believe in something more, effectively becoming a stand-in for the understanding father Elliott never had.
War of the Worlds: Forced Fatherhood
Spielberg’s darkest take on the theme comes in his 2005 remake of War of the Worlds. Here, the alien encounter is not wondrous but terrifyingly violent. And Tom Cruise’s Ray Ferrier is perhaps the ultimate Spielbergian Bad Dad: a deadbeat dockworker who barely knows his own kids and resents having them for the weekend. The alien invasion, then, becomes a crucible designed for one purpose: to force Ray to become a father. Every decision he makes—finding a working car, hiding from Tripods, fighting off desperate survivors—is a frantic, terrifying lesson in parental responsibility. He isn't just saving his children from aliens; he's saving them from his own parental incompetence. The global catastrophe is merely a backdrop for a story of one man finally learning to put his kids first. The world ends so a father can be born.
Why This Echoes on Disclosure Day
For over 40 years, Spielberg has been America’s chief mythmaker for extraterrestrial encounters. And in his stories, the aliens are never just aliens. They are catalysts for familial drama. They are a reason to leave, a reason to heal, or a reason to protect. This cinematic language has profoundly shaped public consciousness. As we watch grainy cockpit videos and read declassified reports, we’re not just looking for evidence of non-human intelligence. We are, on a cultural level, processing it through the Spielberg filter. We see shadowy government agencies and instinctively cast them as the faceless villains from E.T. We imagine a cosmic intelligence and wonder if it will be a benevolent savior like in Close Encounters or a destructive force that tests our character like in War of the Worlds. The conversation around UAPs is never just about technology or national security; it’s freighted with our deepest hopes and fears about authority, family, and our place in the universe—themes Spielberg tied to fatherhood again and again.
