I’ve never considered myself a creative person, yet I’ve always felt the need to create. It started with writing in middle school. I’d write lyrics that never had any music because that was a skill I could never master. So maybe poems would be a more apt description. I used it as a way to get my feelings out since I’ve never been any good at talking about them.
That’s what struck me so much about The Fabelmans. It’s clear that Steven Spielberg’s way of dealing with his feelings was to put everything he had into making movies. My parents didn’t get divorced like Spielberg’s, but my family was fractured in a way that has never been repaired. At the time, I didn’t know what exactly I was trying to process because I was convinced that having a weird family dynamic never bothered me. But as it turns out, living next door to your grandparents for over 20 years and not talking to them in over a decade is a little more than weird! I also had nothing to do with whatever happened! I guess I just never really understood what actually happened and that’s what bothered me the most. Families, am I right?
By no means is this me trying to say that any of my creations come close to anything Spielberg has done. I’m many things, but thankfully delusional isn’t one of them (or maybe that’s why I struggle with creating, because I’m not delusional enough). The Fabelmans helped me understand myself better, though. I’ve always been a pretty lonely person. I never lived in the same city as most of my friends (and to this day, I still don’t). So I guess I’ve always looked for other outlets to be heard, whether it was writing about comics and TV or making podcasts about books and movies. While I’m still making podcasts, they’re largely for other people and even my own, The Podcast Life, is more about helping other people with their podcasts than it is about me fulfilling a creative outlet. So I’ve still been searching for that personal project that will scratch that itch (and honestly, I’m hoping it’s this: writing about media I love).
The way that little Sammy looks up at the big screen when he goes to see his first movie is the same wonder that I have always watched basketball with. But when you’re 5’4” and don’t even make the varsity team in high school, any dreams of playing professionally go out the window real quick. Eventually, I found other things that I loved with the same kind of wonder.
When I first started a podcast, it surprised some people because I’ve never been a loud, opinionated person (and we all know that description is accurate of a lot of podcast hosts). It surprised me, too! I fell in love with the process of it in a similar way that we see Sammy fall in love with making films. Especially the editing process. It’s funny because when I was in college, I steered away from the tech track of my music industry major because I didn’t want to live in a recording studio. Yet I live in Protools now anyway.
The thing that I love about editing isn’t only the technical side of being able to take out mess ups, but it’s being able to make sure that the stories being told are coming across in a way that you’re left with no doubt of what they’re about. Everything is so rooted in the story that if you don’t get that across, then what are you really doing? You’re just putting noise out there that doesn’t culminate in anything in the end. Editing has helped me understand that not every little detail is important, but it’s how the story makes people feel. It’s also the only thing I do that can make me lose track of time, which is how I know when I’ve found something I enjoy. Editing other people’s podcasts is what I do to survive though, not what I do for my own personal fulfillment.
There’s a point in The Fabelmans where Sammy’s dad, Burt, says to Sammy “A hundred dollars for a hobby?” Sometimes it’s hard for people to understand wanting to sink money into a hobby. When I was a kid, I guess you could say my expensive hobby was video games, which my parents never had anything against and they certainly bought me plenty of games. Once I got older though and had more expensive hobbies (turns out, video and audio gear can add up pretty quick), that’s where the disconnect started to happen more and I got similar questions to what Burt said to Sammy. What’s funnier, though, is that it was when I was spending my own money on it. It made me very self-conscious about how much I was spending on my hobbies.
As I transitioned into making videos (mostly because I wanted to learn how to edit videos), I bought a camera, and then didn’t like that one and bought a different camera. Then I ended up hating that camera and I’m back to just using my phone whenever I do make videos. Which I kind of hate, but I’ve struggled with wanting to drop around $3000 on the camera setup that I’d actually like to have. The irony here is that I easily spent over $1000 and now don’t even have a camera to show for it. So I admire Sammy’s ability to ask for exactly the editing machine that he wanted.
It’s very clear that he has a vision for everything that he’s doing and the thing I’ve realized is that’s where I tend to fall short. I struggle so much with visualizing where I want a project to go. I’ve always wanted to write or make videos about movies, but I can never figure out how to make it different from what everyone else is doing. Part of the reason I love movies so much where people follow their passions and succeed is because I’ve always hoped that I’d get there myself one day. I just haven’t quite found the success part, or at least I feel like I haven’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful every day that I get paid to edit podcasts, but I’ve never made any significant money from my projects. I’ve tried over and over again to tell myself it’s fine because they’re just a “hobby.” If I’m being honest with myself, though, I don’t think I ever wanted them to just be a hobby. It’s part of who I am, not just a thing I do.
You can tell that Sammy’s mom, Mitzi, gets it, because she’s the artist in the family. Burt is proud, but he always diminishes it. Once Sammy’s constant filming unravels her infidelity, it puts a strain on the one parental relationship that was always fostering his talent in a way that he needed. It also convinces him that he doesn’t want to make movies anymore. Later, his “uncle” Bennie (really, he’s just a family friend) tells Sammy that it will break his mother’s heart if he stops making movies and gives him a camera before the Fabelmans move to California. Even Bennie understands that making movies isn’t just a hobby for Sammy.
When things get tough with his family, you can tell he’s struggling even more because he’s also given up his passion. When I quit doing both of my podcasts Welcome to Geekdom and Chat Sematary, I spent a while feeling like something was missing. I thought I was okay with not doing my podcasts because I was busier with work (which meant working on podcasts anyway), but as more time went on, that feeling got worse. So naturally, in the same way that Sammy picked up filmmaking again, I picked up making a podcast of my own again.
Finding that spark is so important to the creative process and I’m constantly searching for ways to keep it alive. In the closing moments of the movie, Sammy’s brief encounter with John Ford, while blunt, helps the movie end on that final shot of Sammy feeling inspired again to go out and make movies.And given that this is based on Spielberg’s life, the movie doesn’t need to tell us where things go from there.
I rewatched the movie while writing this and by that, I really mean I barely wrote while watching the movie because it once again drew me in. Sure, there isn’t any real one-to-one comparison between Spielberg's life and mine, but The Fabelmans effortlessly captures that feeling of what it’s like to be driven to make something.
Maybe my problem is that I’m not driven enough. I haven’t quite found that thing that I’m willing to lose sleep over. I used to spend hours shooting hoops as a kid and I’ve been chasing that feeling I’d get when the ball would go through the hoop. It felt like I had accomplished something. Once I realized I wasn’t going to make varsity, I let that feeling of failure get in the way of the passion I had for the sport. And honestly, I don’t think I’ve been the same since. Have I accomplished things since playing basketball? Sure, but it’s really never felt like I have. The sense of fulfillment has just never been there. People congratulated me when I’d hit milestone episodes of my podcasts (100, 250, etc.), but from my point of view it was always, “so what? I did a bunch of episodes of mediocre podcasts.” I always thought that if the podcasts had been good, they would’ve found bigger audiences.
What I realized is that with all of those projects, I ended up losing my enthusiasm for them because they ended up feeling more like a chore than something I wanted to do. Maybe I’m just a person who gets bored easily or maybe I just never found that thing that really stuck with me. I know I won’t find it making things for other people, either, so I just have to keep trying to find what that passion is for me. And I’m pretty sure my body would actually fall apart if I tried to play basketball again, so that’s off the table for now.
I know I have the technical skills needed to create podcasts and videos, but it’s always ended up being more of a stressor for me with my podcasts or YouTube channel because I struggle with having a vision for what I’m working on. It’s so much easier when a client is like “here’s our vision” and I just need to make it happen. When given the pieces, I have no problem creating something, the problem is when I’m the one who needs to create the pieces.
The Fabelmans might not be Spielberg’s masterpiece, but it’s the movie of his that means the most to me because it brings back every time I’ve had that feeling about needing to go outside and put a basketball through a hoop or go make a podcast. It’s midnight as I’m finishing this up and it feels like maybe, just maybe, I’ve started to find my spark again with writing this. That spark is the one thing I’m going to keep chasing, no matter how many times I fail.