It’s no secret that I’ve always been fascinated by stories that detail the creative processes of artists. For me, there’s something endlessly intriguing about getting inside the head of an artist, taking a stroll around the machinery, and then witnessing a once formless thought transform, as if by magic, into something wonderful and timeless. Artistic work, regardless of caliber, must first be imagined before it can be implemented, but it’s the road between the two that interests me most.
For some, this road is short and poses little risk. For others, it’s a prolonged and arduous journey filled with dark places and unseen hazards. And for others still, there is no discernible beginning or end to the road – they’ve always been on it and have no desire to leave it. Steven Spielberg is such a traveler, and The Fabelmans is his beautifully detailed, semi-autobiographical roadmap of the first leg of what would become a very long journey.
It all begins in 1952 with Cecil B. DeMille’s The Greatest Show on Earth. As five-year-old Sammy Fabelman (Mateo Zoryan Francis-DeFord) waits in line with his parents (Michelle Williams and Paul Dano) outside the theater, they explain to him what to expect once inside. Sammy is nervous about his dad’s technical explanation of how movies work, but moreso, he’s excited to experience the mysterious new sensations found within the darkened room. What he witnesses inside will change his life forever.
From this point on, Sammy (now a teenager and played by Gabriel LaBelle) solely wants to make movies, but sadly his family life often gets in the way. Wrapped up in Sammy’s teenage pursuit of cinematic mastery is the tender yet complicated story of a loving marriage falling apart. Sammy’s parents, Mitzi (Williams, who nails an intense combination of Judy Garland and Carol Channing) and Burt (Dano, who is exactly as I imagine him to be in real life), each provide him with the tools he needs to succeed (free-spirited creativity from mom and practical application from dad), but struggle with the realization that their relationship is changing.
Spielberg portrays these potentially traumatic childhood episodes with such incredible kindness for all parties involved that, even though the writing is on the wall from the start, the bitterness and disappointment that usually accompany these kinds of stories are replaced by understanding and compassion. His characters are so beautifully and vividly depicted that their actions and the emotions that drive them flow like a continuous river rather than a broken dam. There’s no Oscar-baiting here, just damned fine acting.
Damned fine filmmaking, too.
One of Spielberg’s greatest qualities, even after all these years, is his ability to perceive the world through the eyes of a child and accurately and emotionally portray the wonder and delight he sees there. What little Sammy felt inside that theater in 1952 was the same sensation I felt thirty years later when I witnessed E.T. hoist Elliott and his pals off the ground. Spielberg gave that to me, just as DeMille had given it to him.
The Fabelmans is yet another example of the veteran director’s mastery as a storyteller and filmmaker, and proves beyond doubt that when he’s at his most intimate and impassioned, he simply cannot be stopped – even if John Ford (played here by David Lynch with all the eccentricity and bravado that entails) really did once tell him to “get the fuck out of my office!”
James is a writer, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.