Knowledge is no longer public – it is in the hands of private companies, access conditional, sharing selective. And like everything that is privatized, what belongs to everyone does not reach everyone equally.
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The film opens through the eyes of the man taking the beating. A professional wrestling ring. Every blow cuts to black, then cuts back. The next blow sends the wrestler to the ground. We watch this world through the eyes of the one being hit. With that first scene, Spielberg has already told us where the blow will land.
Daniel is sitting in the stands. He has a bag. The man behind him whispers: when the crowd stands up, leave the bag. The crowd stands. Daniel lets go – but doesn’t fully release the strap. An agent presses a gun to his waist and says a name. Jane. His girlfriend. Daniel reluctantly lets go.
The logic becomes visible in that moment. Find the weak point, press there. Love is a security vulnerability. Jane’s name is enough.
Daniel has 79 years of UFO records – from Roswell to today, documents authority never showed anyone. A cybersecurity expert, someone who will leak from the inside. The system raised him as a resource – his knowledge, his skills, his access. He was human capital. Think of Snowden – a man who grew up inside the NSA’s own structure, then turned against it. Or the red-haired whistleblower – the man who came out of Cambridge Analytica, who told the world how Facebook data shaped elections. Both were the system’s own children. Both turned against it. So did Daniel. The corporation raised him. He used what he knew against it.
“This information doesn’t belong to a few,” he says. “It belongs to billions of people.”
When human capital speaks, the system breaks down. Daniel stops being a victim the moment he opens his mouth. A victim who speaks becomes a threat – they know this. They say Jane’s name.
This sentence leaves the film.
In 1947, something fell in Roswell. The army first said “flying disc,” then said “weather balloon” twenty-four hours later. From 1952 to 1969, Project Blue Book investigated 12,618 UFO cases – then shut down. Seventy-nine years of accumulated dread. In 2017, the Pentagon leaked footage – the one doing the leaking was the institution itself. Area 51 was confirmed, but “confirmed” is the wrong word – authority had simply become unable to deny. In 2026, the documents were officially released. What did the Pentagon say? “The public can draw its own conclusions.”
And when they disclosed, there was nothing concrete to show.
Because Area 51 always remained like this – unseen, unwanted to be seen. Every morning, white Boeing 737s took off from a private terminal at Las Vegas’s Harry Reid Airport. No markings on their fuselages – only a thin red stripe along the sides. They flew under the callsign “Janet.” Destination: Groom Lake, known as Area 51. The first Janet aircraft landed at Groom Lake at 3:40 a.m. Its bright landing lights were sometimes reported as UFOs. While authority was hiding UFOs, its own planes were being mistaken for them.
From above: an endless desert. From inside: nobody knew.
This is not transparency. This is dissolution. The system is trapped inside the secret it created – unable to hide it, unable to show it.
Disclosure Day stands at the exact center of that moment.
Authority Always Looked Down
In Spielberg’s cinema, the authority figure always makes the same move: looks down, categorizes, tries to control. In E.T., the agents’ flashlights sweep through the night. In Close Encounters of the Third Kind, the military’s vehicles encircle the field. In The Fabelmans, the father figure tries to keep the family inside an order – but that order slowly collapses, and the son finds his own truth in his mother’s photograph.
In every film, authority encounters something it cannot see. And what it cannot see exceeds it.
This is why UFOs have been a problem for 79 years. The center wants to see everything inside its own categories – what it cannot control it renders invisible, leaves off the map. The urge to engineer society is the deepest instinct of a nation-state. But this instinct has an authoritarian dimension: I know, you don’t, therefore protecting you falls to me.
And perhaps authority was right – in a sense. The reverse engineering theory says this: from fallen UFO parts, from recovered objects, technology was extracted. Smartphones, artificial intelligence, drone systems – some say these were distilled from layers of UFO technology. In the Strugatsky brothers’ 1972 novel Roadside Picnic, the debris left behind by aliens was priceless treasure for humanity. Here too – but in reverse. Power was learning from the debris it was hiding. That’s why it could neither fully deny nor fully accept. Because both were impossible.
From 1947 to today, UFOs are neither fully present nor fully absent. Roswell could not be denied, could not be accepted. For 79 years it remained as a ghost in the institution’s memory – neither living nor dead.
In Disclosure Day, the camera moves down – into the eyes of the one being hit. This is not merely a cinematic choice. Authority no longer looks from above. Because it has lost the capacity to look from above.
The Other Was Always There
For Spielberg, the “other” was never abstract.
The alien in E.T. – a being the system cannot categorize, left outside its map. The Jew in Schindler’s List – a person authority first registered, then tried to eliminate. The slave in Amistad – a body the institution could never fully see, never wanted to see. In every film, the “other” stands where power’s gaze cannot reach. And in every film, that other carries something – a truth that never entered any archive.
This is not coincidence. It is biography.
The exclusion Spielberg experienced in his own childhood enters the screen in The Fabelmans – a Jewish child in the American heartland, someone who could never fully belong. The other is at the center of his cinema because it is in his history. Illuminating what authority cannot see is for him both a cinematic and a personal necessity.
Every social system is held together by an invisible fabric. That fabric cannot be seen – but it holds everything. The UFO never entered that fabric. It was never classified, never categorized, never accepted. It is there but it is not. Its existence reveals the system’s deepest ignorance – power that claims to know everything does not know this one thing.
To expose the system is to allow the system to make you visible. And what becomes visible becomes a target. This is not only Daniel’s story – it is every “other”’s story. They say Jane’s name because Daniel is no longer a victim; he is a threat.
Rousseau said it: Individuals die, institutions remain. In every Spielberg film, the other stands outside that institution. E.T. leaves, but authority stays. Roy Neary boards the ship, but the army stays. Schindler dies, but the list remains. In Disclosure Day, something different happens – the institution dissolves, but the other remains. The ghost is still there.
The Cardinal
Margaret Fairchild is a TV weather presenter in Kansas City. She is sitting at home with her partner when a cardinal flies in through the window. Red, small, silent.
And everything begins.
Margaret suddenly starts speaking Russian. She doesn’t know it. Her partner asks – where did you learn Russian, you’re frightening me. Margaret has no knowledge of the Russian or of what is happening. She jumps in the car, drives fast, gets pulled over by police. At that moment Margaret looks directly into the officer’s eyes – she says his wife’s name, their newborn child, his exhaustion. The officer, shaken, lets her go.
Margaret doesn’t know where this power comes from. But the scene with the police shows something: the system could not categorize her, but she read the system. Not a slave to desire, but its master. Not even to her own desire – to the deepest loss of whoever stands before her.
But we learn: as children, Daniel and Margaret were taken by aliens. That contact left something inside them. The cardinal is only a trigger – the power was always there.
The structure never knew this. No file records it. No map ever categorized these two. The gaze of authority works in general – it scans populations, produces statistics, reads patterns. It wants to make everything readable. But what Margaret carries inside fits no pattern. What cannot be categorized does not exist – for power. Margaret and Daniel were invisible for years for exactly this reason.
Two Objects, Two Worlds
The corporation has a metallic object. When Noah Scanlon presses it, it enters Jane’s mind. He sees through her eyes – which hotel, which floor, which room. Jane answers. She cannot resist because the object works from the exact center of the mind.
It enters from outside. It asks, scans, finds. It asks every mind the same question. General, cold, repeatable. Like the gaze of authority – the same procedure for everyone, the same question for everyone.
Margaret’s power comes from somewhere entirely different.
She enters the facility. She stands before Noah Scanlon, looks directly into his eyes. Scanlon sees his wife. His dead wife. His wife speaks – she tells them not to touch Daniel or Margaret. Scanlon freezes.
Margaret walks out. She looks into the eyes of everyone she meets. Some see their child before them, some their mother, some someone they haven’t seen in years. And those people open the way.
The object enters from outside. Margaret opens from within – passing through the dead, from the place authority has never reached. Like a harbor pilot – knowing not the general rules but what is specific to that moment. That every storm is different, that every wind carries a different feeling. That every person carries a different loss. The system cannot register the dead. Cannot archive them. Cannot categorize them. Margaret’s power operates precisely outside this archive.
Two different objects, two different logics. One is technology – measurable, repeatable, transferable. The other is something that existed before the structure.
Wardex and the Owner of the Void
When power loses its capacity to conceal, it is not power that fills the void.
Something else does.
Noah Scanlon is not a public official – he is the head of a corporation. The man who played a king in The King’s Speech is in this film the representative of the private sector. This casting is not coincidence. The authority figure is no longer the center – it is the market. As UFO knowledge slips from the institution’s hands, the corporation tries to catch it. Tries to inherit the capacity to conceal.
When the structure takes on a corporate model, the citizen becomes a customer. The political subject gives way to the economic one. The clearest sign of this shift: when authority could no longer hide UFOs, what took over was not the corporation itself but the logic of the market. The corporation is only the carrier of that logic. Knowledge is no longer a public right – it is a resource to be managed, priced, controlled. The capacity for concealment has been privatized.
So when the center weakens, who fills the void? Another vigorous child – the one Hobbes had in mind. Yesterday’s servant tries today to become the master but carries the same logic. Control, classification, concealment. Only the hands have changed.
In the real world, this transformation has concrete names. To The Stars Academy, a venture founded by former Pentagon officials, took UFO research from the institution and brought it to the market. Bigelow Aerospace, while working under contract with NASA, simultaneously built its own UFO database. Knowledge is no longer public – it is in the hands of private companies, access conditional, sharing selective. And like everything that is privatized, what belongs to everyone does not reach everyone equally.
But the object ends up in Jane’s hands. Jane brings it, Margaret holds it. Control is now neither with the center nor with the corporation. It passes to the people.
The Father Sits Down
In Spielberg’s cinema, the father figure is always in crisis. E.T. has no father at all — the absence itself shapes the film. In Close Encounters, the father walks out on his family toward the “other.” And in The Fabelmans, the order the father tried to hold together gives way entirely.
Disclosure Day scales this crisis up to the level of the institution.
Noah Scanlon is the head of the corporation. Inside a Kansas City television station, Daniel is uploading all the UFO records to the system. Margaret is preparing to go on camera. Scanlon cuts the power sources one by one. Darkness falls. Every corner is surrounded.
Then Jane arrives. She has Daniel’s object. She gives it to Margaret – and Margaret, holding the power in her hands, brings all the electricity back. Control is now with the people.
Scanlon’s aide asks: aren’t you going to intervene?
Scanlon sits down.
His team disperses.
They do not lose – they let go. Margaret’s power showed Scanlon something power could never show – his dead wife. From that moment, the struggle loses its meaning. Every system of governance that claims the right to decide on behalf of people in the name of protecting them eventually confronts its own limit. That limit is not a map; it is a human face. Scanlon’s was the face of his dead wife. Every structure that wants to perfect society can never see that face, because that face never entered any archive.
Disclosure is not a war. It is a surrender. And this surrender does not come from outside – it comes from within the father figure himself.
Hansel and Gretel’s House
Margaret arrives at Hugo’s location with Daniel – the exact replica of her childhood home. She cannot look into Hugo’s eyes. Does not want to. They sit side by side in two chairs in the childhood bedroom. The object is in their hands. Spielberg’s light comes from above – sun, bright, white. Like Dickens’s A Christmas Carol – the past becomes visible.
And they see. Their own childhoods. The aliens came in animal form – a deer, a fox. So as not to frighten them. They follow them, through the forest, across the fields, all the way to that house. Margaret whispers: Hansel and Gretel’s house.
In Spielberg’s cinema, the white light changes hands this time. Hansel and Gretel’s house is an image of hope – finding the way even in the darkest forest. Margaret knew nothing, yet the power inside her brought her here. That billions of people must not be kept from this knowledge – no file had told her this. But she already knew.
The Screen Goes Dark
Margaret goes on camera. Daniel lines up the data – starting from Roswell 1947. UFO footage, recovered objects, transfers to facilities. The world watches.
Then something on wheels arrives, covered, with zippers. They open it. A being emerges from inside. It speaks in its own language – mathematical, algorithmic, an infinite web of meanings. It does not fit the categories of human language. It passes to Daniel, Daniel passes to Margaret. Margaret turns to the camera and just as she is about to speak –
The screen goes dark. Spielberg writes.
The screen went dark. But that night, everyone saw.
Works Cited
Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan. 1651.
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. Reveries of the Solitary Walker. 1782.
Spielberg, Steven, dir. Disclosure Day. Universal Pictures, 2026.
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Images from the press package used by kind permission of UIP (Universal Pictures’ international distribution arm.
