Dear Spielberg I am not one to write offensive direct letters, so please consider yourself special because I make an exception.

Never in my life have I felt so much hatred towards a film as I did when watching The Fabelmans. Headache, vomiting craving, and what leads me to believe is a fever.

I got a glimpse of how you have made yourself the ultimate reference of art that makes me feel welcomed in life. I saw how you can fool with cheap smiles and cheesy moments the easiest of your spectators. But not me.

At its full length I find myself here feeling an anger that is about to tear at my flesh and become my skin, a shame at being who I am and doing what I do.

Your family trajectory is personal, and I don't want to judge you, but not all of us can have the luxury of looking at the positive side of things. It's as if we have to accept that "it was meant to be this way," as the maternal character says. But it isn't.

Sincerely, Herbert.