Love and Saucers (2017) – A Review
The X-Files first hit British television in late 1994. I was ten years old and it was the first programme for adults which I cared about – and I really cared. My life-long interest in the paranormal (and to be fair, Gillian Anderson) was born in September of that year. Along with a childhood fear of being abducted by tiny grey monstrosities with an enthusiasm for invasive medical procedures.
There were nights where I would lie awake, burying myself in my sheets and wincing at every random sound and flash of light coming from outside of my bedroom. But while my experience with visiting extraterrestrials hinged on a mixture of profound fascination and instinctual fear; others have fared far better.
Love and Saucers is director Brad Abrahams’ portrayal of unassuming artist and deli worker David Huggins. At first glance he seems like someone’s quiet and kind-hearted grandfather. The old man down the street who has been there forever, who everybody smiles and waves to; but is ultimately easy to ignore.
What you wouldn’t imagine about him is that a profound thread runs throughout his life: a decades long series of encounters (many of a sexual nature) with alien beings.
Beginning in the early 1950s, he was pursued by a crew of relatively benign and inviting extraterrestrials. Inviting being a keyword with regards to Crescent – an enchanting beauty who not only took David’s virginity, but was also the mother to his hybrid children.
It’s difficult to not sound judgemental, or just outright douchey, while describing this. Darker accounts of close encounters are more familiar to the collective consciousness; but these more…pleasant accounts aren’t uncommon. And they can be savagely disregarded.
The publicity for Love and Saucers emphasises how non-judgemental this portrait of Huggins is. And it’s important to keep in mind that it is a portrait of Huggins, rather than a deep-core exploration of the man and his beliefs.
Huggins is an astonishing artist. Beyond the obvious quality of his work, every canvas betrays a remarkable sincerity and openness. There’s little sense that he’s self-conscious about his story, nor that he’s seeking publicity or material gain.
Sincerity counts for a lot, and it’s a quality this film shares with Huggins. The intention is to offer a unique perspective on an abductee’s story; without drawing particular conclusions. Rather than obsess over post-abduction trauma or the search for truth, Huggins is allowed to express how his experiences have shaped his relationships with family and friends, and his perspective on humanity and life as a whole.
Like Huggins, Love and Saucers is calm and measured and without pretense. Huggins’ paintings are simple recollections which leave little to no ambiguity about what they represent. Similarly, Abrahams has resisted the urge to stage elaborate reconstructions of the events Huggins describes; rather he lets the story unfold organically.
An obvious criticism of the film is that no challenges are made to Huggins’ claims. Love and Saucers does include contributions from professionals associated with the field: most notably UFO researcher Budd Hopkins and Rice University’s Professor of Philosophy and Religious Thought; Jeffrey Kripal. Neither man approaches Huggins’ story with true skepticism; though it is interesting to note that Kripal draws parallels between experiences like his and accounts of transcendental erotic encounters found in certain mystical traditions.
But skepticism is besides the point. Huggins has a fascinating story to tell, and it’s one Abraham simply wants to share. And much like the visitors to a small exhibition of Huggins’ paintings near the film’s conclusion, we are left to gently muse upon something which is so often sensationalised.
As a documentary Love and Saucers is expertly conceived and executed; though it won’t appeal to anyone looking for a more intense, steely (or even salacious) experience. But as with Huggins himself, you’re unlikely to regret spending time with it.
