The Fabelmans

It’s no coincidence that such a beautiful film about people and filmmaking is an autobiographical statement by the creator of the most heartfelt works of cinema. The circle is closed, as the unique tenderness of the iconic filmmaking triumvirate of Spielberg + Kamiński + Williams merges with the content like never before. Everything led up to this. ___ The Fabelmans is the most comprehensively told family drama that I have ever seen. And even though no tragic events happen, it is also the most impactful family drama for me personally. It is a deeply felt depiction of the life events of childhood and youth in the smallest yet most essential details, embodied in an appropriately sensitive, surgically precise film narrative. A mosaic of fragments forming the personality of a man who, through pain and joy, became one with the film camera, which revealed the origins of his biggest (family) disappointment in his adolescence and helped him to gracefully resolve his problem with bullying in high school. That he later went on to make his mark on the artistic and social history of the world with that camera is another story. ___ The cinephilic dimension of The Fabelmans is a bonus added to the narrative about family values, which have always formed the essence of Spielberg’s work. Except here he has made it a key part of the story that’s even nicer than we could have wished for. The casting surprise in the epilogue and the last shot brought me to my knees and took me back to a place to which I feared contemporary cinema would never return. Steven forever ❤️ (05/12/2022)

Sammy Fabelman loves cinema. Together with his friends and family he makes small amateur films and dreams of becoming a director. But then, through his hobby, he uncovers a nasty secret from his loved ones that makes him rethink everything he's ever known. Steven Spielberg delivers a semi-autobiographical story that is moving, funny and above all believable. And while it's also nostalgic and melancholy, it never feels cloying. An honest and audience-friendly drama from a storyteller who understands his job damn well. (24/11/2022)

The Fabelmans is masterfully shot story of film and family that alternates between moments of extraordinary feeling, in which Spielberg manages to depict big things on an intimate scale, and a slightly banal compilation of familiar motifs and tried-and-true pearls of wisdom. I was moved by the film a few times, particularly the moments involving the magnificent duo of Dano and Williams, and when the boyish enthusiasm of amateur films is presented in such a way that it evokes in viewers the feeling that they are watching something almost miraculous. The Fabelmans portrays the medium of film as a double-edged sword that is capable of both healing and ruthlessly inflicting wounds. The film contains a touch of slight yet aching melancholy that doesn’t come across as mushy; Spielberg is still surehanded in that respect. Despite that, however, there is something banally transitory and too comfortable in all of these nice images, as the anecdotal ending demonstrates. The strongest impression is thus left by the relationship between Sam and his parents, which mirrors the pain and loneliness of Spielberg’s child characters. I feel great respect and mild emotion for this film, but unfortunately also doubt as to whether it will actually leave me with more than a fleeting sense of enchantment. (21/11/2022)

Grand shots of intimate life struggles and little scenes in which the most important things happen. Steven Spielberg has perhaps never built his classic family backdrops so high, illuminated with all manner of imaginary spotlights, and focused his attention solely on them. What's more, Janusz Kamiński's playful camera loves the landscape, architecture, and people so sincerely that The Fabelmans speaks to me in a much more optimistic language than you would expect from the story and some of its twists. (21/02/2023)

An exquisite reminiscence of the childhood and adolescence of an ordinary middle-class family. Spielberg manages to conjure up smiles and tears, joy and sadness with an ease all his own, reminiscing a little of his childhood years when his enthusiasm for moving pictures seemed to be his everything, despite his family's complicated relationship. There's a bit of a problem with pacing and overlong running time, but that's all due to the consistent storytelling and coloring of the characters. The last scene is the best. (13/02/2023)

Full Steven Spielberg. Without metaphor for the first time, he looks back on his childhood, on the family background that shaped him and (thankfully) gave him to us. Not that the proverbial perfectionist didn't pay attention to his previous films, but this time it's a truly admirable piece of watchmaking that may not even look like it. Spielberg firstly conveys the viewer's fascination with cinema, wrapping them around his finger with his boyish excitement of a train wreck reenactment, and then making them an invisible member of the family, letting them experience everything he himself has experienced with the characters. And he does it so naturally, confidently and beautifully that it's clear why he made the film. Had someone else been behind the camera, The Fabelmans would have been either a cheesy ode to the best director of all time or a cold family drama that would have been hard to watch. But to find a balance between these two extremes, none other than Steven Spielberg could have done it. PS: And the actors! (26/11/2022)

I managed to watch The Fabelmans twice over the weekend and the second time in particular I experienced feelings I no longer associate with modern films. This two-and-a-half-hour chronicle of a famous filmmaker's difficult formative childhood in a crumbling family is the most beautiful film I've seen in a long time, and it offers narrative techniques so subtle and yet often utterly unobtrusive that a generation of young directors could learn again in the cinema. The story of an aspiring filmmaker and a bitter divorce is based on the alternation of artistic and rational perspectives. The camera reveals things to the protagonist that the human eye never sees in real life (including his mother's infidelity in the background of the action), and the photographic form of the footage, which can be manipulated in various ways in the editing room, makes the films the most reliable source of existence, something that you can control and can give authorial forms of representation. In the end, Sammy, distressed by his family situation, uses this to glorify the school bully in a school video, thus bringing his rival to his knees – realizing that he will never look as good in real life as he does in the film. Life can be grey and Spielberg knew the bitterness of anti-Semitism, bullying, failure with girls and, most importantly, the divorce of his parents, only one of whom supported his passion for movies. The Fabelmans represent two worldviews that must intertwine, but the more painful one must never suffocate what fulfills us most and what we aspire to. It is an emotional and psychologically detailed family study in which cinema serves not just to escape, but to clarify and filter emotions. Most of Spielberg's films about the complexity of an incomplete family have managed to suck us in, but The Fabelmans is a film through which we can inhale and, despite the sad passages, absorb the joy of the narrative and its impulses. After the second screening, I curled up on the bus for half an hour, put the John Williams soundtrack on my headphones, and let myself be swept away by what Sammy's story revealed. I too can try to be an extrovert and clamor for someone's attention, but I know in my soul that I embrace my introvert bubble and get lost in movies where I don't have to deal with interpersonal relationships, where I don't quite excel at. And what brings me joy is being able to analyse the work with space, the movement of the camera and the positioning of the characters around the set, which in The Fabelmans is again beautiful and original. Steven Spielberg has made an amazing film that spoke to me in every scene and I can say that it opened my eyes again. If you've yet to see a single film this year (so far), make sure it's this one, Avatar is going to have to try hard. (28/11/2022)

Steven Spielberg is back to what he does best: a sensitively told, character-driven family drama about the magic of discovering something magical, here personified by cinema itself. This two-and-a-half-hour film manages to be almost perfectly engrossing and absorbing, yet it has two creative decisions that leave me wondering. For one thing, I don't understand why the lead actor had to wear dark contact lenses for the entire film, it made his eyes look as dead as those of the shark in Jaws and I think it sabotaged an otherwise very eager performance by the young Gabriel LaBelle. And then the idea (spoiler) that a pompous anti-Semitic bullying asshole would, by the magic of the movie medium, go to his victim and not only apologise, but have an emotional breakdown over his own emptiness – the most naive and nauseating thing I've seen at the cinema this year. These two things are all the more infuriating because they could have been easily avoided. However, despite those reservations, I was satisfied, and especially in the short scenes, when veterans Judd Hirsch and David Lynch are given space and well-written roles, I had a contented smile on my face. (07/12/2022)

Those who love filmmaking will love The Fabelmans. Spielberg is still in superb form, and it's hardly a surprise that if anyone should tell his life story, it can only be him. A beautiful, sensitive, witty, and moving film that is undoubtedly one of the best of the year. When Spielberg retires, anyone watching this film (remembering all his blockbusters) will be able to tell that it was all worth it. (11/01/2023)