“The Fabelmans” is the best film I have seen this year, and it is because of the sheer amount of heart, emotional nuance, and respect for the audience that permeates throughout the movie. To say that it is simply a love letter to cinema is to assert that the story centers around only one facet, which is Sam’s (based on a young Steven Spielberg) passion for filmmaking. While that is the through-line or anchor point, it also serves as a counter-balance to the other forces and influences in Sam’s life, namely his family, Jewish culture, and relationships with classmates. His love for film is shown as pure, steadfast, a North Star, something that has been a constant inspiration and aspiration ever since he was a young boy. It is also hinted that film was a way to take control of his own anxieties, almost like a way to translate the world into something he could perceive more calmly or assuredly. Sam’s devotion to filmmaking is depicted as something that makes him feel confident and deeply insecure at the same time. On one hand, he is joyful and exuberant making movies, thriving at directing and proving to have real talent. It is something through which he can be independent and also connect with others, crafting a vision and reveling in the shared experience of that plan brought to life on screen. Conversely, filmmaking represents the two deepest conflicts between Sam and his mother and father. His father, ever-practical and grounded in such a way that leaves no room for exploration or imagination, dismisses and downplays film, and therefore rejects a part of Sam himself; his mother, selfish, whimsical, spontaneous, emotional, understands Sam’s dreams but in many ways embodies his biggest fears about what he could become if he indulges his passion too far. What the movie excels at is showing both the jagged flaws and real love that exists within the Fabelman family. Neither parent is villainized. The situation is complex, and the scenes feel raw. I was worried going into this movie that it would be cheesy and performative. Besides the first 15 minutes which bordered on those terms, it did not feel fake at all (although, I have to note teenage Sam’s bizarre colored contacts; I think they were trying to lighten his eyes to match the bright blue of child Sam? I appreciate the commitment to continuity, but they should have either cast a different child actor, or let Gabriel LaBelle’s natural eyes be shown. So much expression is portrayed through the eyes, and covering them with stiff contacts was a disservice to the film and felt distractingly out of place).

I also have to give credit for the lack of narrative exposition, a personal film pet peeve of mine. The film truly follows the “show don’t tell” rule, and seems to genuinely respect its audience in this way. It doesn’t read as a story that was extremely watered-down or sweetened for palatability. I grant additional points for this being a film directed with a distinct lack of arrogance on Spielberg’s part, when it could so easily have spiraled into a nauseating hype-fest of self-promotion. For essentially an origin story, it was fairly humble. Overall, the core of this film is the care with which it addresses the emotional intricacies of personal identity and family, and the desire to belong and be accepted for all parts of you. It leaves you asking what it truly means to put yourself first, at times signaling it as brave, while at others showing the harmful consequences that can arise in some relationships. This is not about the glorification of passion or art, but is instead a reflection on values of the self versus values of the family, and how they intersect in beautiful and painful ways.