In the two thousand five blockbuster, War of the Worlds, the sky doesn’t roar with invading ships, it simply goes silent. Every engine dies. Every watch stops. On the docks, a flawed father named Ray Ferrier watches a bruised storm cloud split the sky with an unnatural pulse. This is where Steven Spielberg’s vision begins: not with heroes, but with a messy, relatable family on the brink. When t...
