[8.2/10] It’s hard to talk about *Arrival* without spoiling the film. So much of what makes it more than just a well-done first contact story is tied up in its later developments. They recontextualize enough of the prior proceedings that trying to discuss the import or quality of the film without mentioning them is like trying to give someone directions without letting them know the destination.

But its premise is fairly straightforward. Aliens have come to Earth, in twelve ships scattered across the globe. Louise Banks (Amy Adams) a linguist, is brought by the U.S. Military to the ship in Montana, in attempt to help us communicate with the extra-terrestrial presence. With the help of theoretical physicist Ian Donnelly (Jeremy Renner), and buffer provided by Colonel Weber (Forest Whitaker), Banks slowly but surely finds ways to talk to these beings, with the American team alternatively working with and against similar groups in other nations attempting the same.

And then there’s the twist. The birth, death, and tragedy of Louise’s daughter, implied through the grammar of film to have occurred prior to the alien encounter we witness, actually happened afterward. The estranged husband hinted at early on turns out to be Donnelly. And Banks herself, through learning to think like the heptapods, and eventually direct contact with the aliens, becomes unstuck in time. She experiences moments from what we’d consider the past, present, and future, in non-linear splendor, mixing them up like a memory collage.

Despite the narrative trickery employed, the reveal itself isn’t so unfamiliar to those acquainted with the novels of Kurt Vonnegut, *Watchmen*, and even *Star Trek: The Next Generation*. But what the twist lacks in novelty, it makes up for in thematic resonance. Like those works, *Arrival* uses the time-dilated nature of its story to comment on processing trauma, the value of one’s experiences and life itself in a chaotic universe, and the potential of the human mind to expand to contemplate greater possibilities.

You’re unlikely to find a film this year with as many intriguing philosophical implications as *Arrival*. In that, it is akin to *The Prestige*, as a film with a twist that initially knocks over the viewer with how it changes the reality of what’s been depicted up to that point, but that makes its bones from the implications of that new reality. In both films, what the reveals show about the characters, and say about the value and nature of human life, linger long after the shock of the twist dissipates.

But the force of the movie does kick into high gear after the non-linear way in which Louise begins to experience time is unveiled. It answers the plot-specific mystery that *Arrival* presents – why did the heptapods come here? They, it turns out, have experienced time in this fashion from the beginning, the thoughts and information able to exist simultaneously in the past and the future. Their journey is to help Earth unify, to serve as a catalyst for cooperation, so that three millennia in the future, humanity will be able to help them. It is an intriguing and clockwork explanation for their presence.

Beyond, however, the on-the-ground (so to speak) plot mechanics of *Arrival*, what makes it stand out is its exploration of how this change in temporal perspective changes how individuals think, how they value different things in their lives, how they approach and view the world. The film reflects this in interesting ways.

The heptapods’ language is circular, more symmetrical and again, non-linear to reflect their perspective, tying into the motif that learning a language rewires your brain to a certain extent. Louise naming her daughter Hannah, which the episode notes is a palindrome, reflects the way this same symmetry and perspective has filtered down to her. And the film itself often frames Louise symmetrically, using a flat background or one-point perspective to balance the images.

But most notably, that mode of thought changes Louise’s perspective on life writ large, estranges her from eventual husband Donnelly, and motivates her to both marry him and have a child, knowing that each choice will end in pain. The cinch is that for Louise, these decisions do not “end.” They simply are. They exist on the same continuum as all moments, not greater or lesser in priority or order than the others.

And for that, for the gift given to her by the heptapods, she chooses the path that will increase the amount of bliss she enjoys, where she experiences love, where she is enriched. Amy Adams understated performance gives life to this epiphany. Freed from constraints, in philosophy and temporal perspective, of having to fear loss and hardship, she pursues those paths that will make her life more worthwhile, that will give her more moments of happiness and wonder and fulfillment, regardless of any chronological path from joy to sadness.

It’s a laudable message, that applies even to the humble folks who still experience time in a linear fashion. Much of cinema tackles ideas about coping with loss or valuing the good times even in the shadow of the bad. But the device of the scattered timescape of Louise’s life, seen as an accumulation of experiences and not a linear progression, drives that point home in a unique way. Much of *Arrival* is about broadening perspectives, and the scattered scenes combining what was, what is, and what will be help to cast the same broadening spell on the audience that the heptapods do for Louise.

That’s part of why talking about this film without talking about its twist is so hard. The way *Arrival* tells its story, the ways those moments are sequenced in the film, is so essential to what the film is trying to say that discussing it apart from that perspective is unavoidably lacking. In a film about altering perspective, there is only so much to say without talking about how it attempts to shift the audience’s own perspective in the process. *Arrival* uses the alien and unfamiliar to tell a deeply humanistic story, about unity, philosophy, and worth, through one individual who comes to see them all very differently.