I’ve never been a sci-fi guy. I mean, I enjoy the classic Star Wars films — even tried to rewatch them in story-order during lockdown. (I didn’t get far.) I’ve only ever seen one episode of Firefly, and none of Star Trek. But there’s a particular story moment in many of the recent interplanetary “first contact” movies that always delights me. It’s the centerpiece of Arrival, the Denis Villeneuve film starring Amy Adams. And it’s at the heart of the newest heir-to-the-space-adventure-flick throne, Project Hail Mary.
At some point in these movies, the humans have to figure out a way to communicate with the aliens. It’s a great playground for a writer, as it allows them to conduct imaginative experiments with meaning, sound and language. How might these aliens communicate with one another? Can the plucked-out-of-nowhere professor deconstruct the system fast enough? Often the fate of the whole planet depends on it.
As a communications professional, a storyteller, leadership coach and facilitator, these sequences tap into my intrinsic geekiness around the “stuff” of human communication. What it’s made of. How it happens. Why it fails. Each film gives us a glimpse into the way writers uniquely imagine the building blocks of interspecies communication — gestures, symbols, sounds. They get to start from scratch. The patterns and recurring themes that emerge across these films give us a sense of what diverse storytellers agree on about the fundamental ingredients of communication. These themes also happen to reinforce our approach at Alejo, establishing healthy communication patterns within organizations.
MIRROR
It almost always starts the same way. The human picks up a gesture from the alien, something small, and repeats it back. Or vice-versa, the alien initiates. In either case, the receiver recognizes it as a sign that their partner wants to “make contact.” Simply put, one party wants to contact the other, they want to let the other person in. The first and perhaps most visible way to show someone you’re inviting them in, is to let them influence the way you behave. In these films, the echoed gesture is one party telling the other: “I see you. I want to play.” In our world, meeting someone at eye-level, leaning forward to join them in enthusiasm, or even squaring off so that your feet are pointed toward the person you’re talking to, these are all ways we similarly show our partners: “Hey. I’m here. I’m open to exchange.” At Alejo, we’ve collected a treasure chest of skill-building exercises related to Mirroring and Reciprocity.
RHYTHM
Often, the leap to language is still a bridge too far. In several of these films, the first attempt at a more substantive exchange is often focused on something believed to be universal, like math. However, in so many of these movies, the first bits of meaning exchanged between human and alien are actually on the basis of something even more universal, more intrinsic: Rhythm. The scruffy professor taps three times. Magically, the alien taps back. Or the alien clicks and beeps into a recording device. The human translates it. Soon, they find a way to reverse the process and turn human speech into clicks and beeps. And so on and so forth. First, we pick up a shared rhythm. We meet somewhere. With that rhythm as our baseline, we can then syncopate, learn each other’s grooves, counter and synchronize. As performing artists in the workplace, we’re constantly asking teams to become more conscious of their shared rhythms, to discuss tempo and pace, to practice flexing to find the right shared music together.
HUMOR
Finally, after basic rhythms are exchanged, the learning accelerates quickly. (Often via an upbeat musical montage.) Technology is developed; more sophisticated conversations start to happen. Then there’s a third threshold that many of these writers hold even more sacred; I know this because they make us wait for it. It never happens right away, and its introduction often signals that the relationship between human and alien has deepened significantly. I’m talking now about the first time the two characters make each other laugh. When the human and alien finally share a good laugh, it forecasts trust and vulnerability. In truth, sharing a laugh is often the very first form of intimacy. This is why we preach taking humor seriously at Alejo, and we practice it in our workshops and coaching sessions. We know that humor is a weathervane for the health of a relationship (or culture.) If you can’t access humor, it’s hard to avail yourself of anything beyond the cold hard facts.
You probably never expected to think so hard about a storytelling sequence that often lasts less than 15 minutes. But those 15-minutes are what the whole plot hinges on. The same can be said for the success of our businesses. The markets keep evolving, the numbers go up and down, but it’s the time we take early on to build a communication culture thoughtfully, from the ground up, that really makes all the difference.