This past weekend saw the release of Arrival, the arty, hypnotic science fiction film from Canadian filmmaker Denis Villeneuve. Previously, Villeneuve was known for more grounded, gritty dramas: the drug-war thriller Sicario, the action-procedural Prisoners, the exhausting personal drama Incendies. Arrival constitutes new territory for him, as he looks at the present through the lens of the future, instead of the lens of history. The film, based on a short story by author Ted Chiang, follows the arrival of mysterious aliens at a series of sites around the world. At a landing site in Montana, linguistics professor Dr. Louise Banks (Amy Adams) tries to translate the aliens’ language and open communications with them. Meanwhile, around the world, other scientific teams attempt the same task, and while world governments debate whether to share their findings or withhold them, and whether to treat the aliens as guests or enemies. Arrival is a gripping science fiction drama about alien life, the nature of language, and the threat of human extinction. But more prominently, it’s a story about how communication happens, the nature of human fear and trust, and the way language shapes thought and understanding of the world. Our reactions to it varied widely, so we rounded up three writers to consider Arrival’s big questions. Spoilers ahead.

Did the story work for you?

Chris: The closest comparison I can make between Arrival and recent popular science fiction film is the Christopher Nolan oeuvre. Nolan and Arrival director Denis Villeneuve both wield the language of film like judo masters, using our assumptions about time and place against us to create surprising outcomes. But I often struggle to enjoy Nolan’s work, which backloads the fun parts underneath obligatory world-building and tutorials that explain how wormholes work, or why dreams are harmless, except when they kill you.

Arrival is a more understated riff on the method Nolan popularized. It conceals its tricks and saves the dense plot justification for the final act. And you know what? I loved it. By the time the big info dump came, accompanied by a twist that verges on godly intervention, I was already hooked into the characters and the stakes of global (or maybe galactic) devastation.

I know I would have been less onboard with the film had I known its exit strategy from the beginning. But that, for me, isn’t a flaw. If anything, it’s the sign of thoughtful structure. And now I’m bracing myself, because while I fell head-over-heels for the story, I recognize it’s a bit of a homespun sweater, just waiting for someone to unravel the many dangling threads.