The Unseen Spielberg: Why 'Always' Deserves a Second Chance
There’s something almost poetic about Steven Spielberg admitting that one of his most underrated films is also one that critics have largely dismissed. During a recent SXSW panel, the legendary director singled out Always (1989), a fantasy romance that feels like a quirky outlier in his otherwise blockbuster-dominated filmography. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Spielberg’s choice challenges our assumptions about what defines his work. We’re so accustomed to associating him with jaw-dropping spectacle (Jaws, E.T., Jurassic Park) that a sentimental, character-driven story like Always feels almost like a secret he’s been keeping.
A Departure from the Spielberg We Know
Always is a remake of A Guy Named Joe (1943), a film Spielberg reportedly adored enough to show to girlfriends in his younger years. Personally, I think this detail is key to understanding why he championed this project. It’s not just a remake; it’s a deeply personal reinterpretation. The film stars Richard Dreyfuss as a cocky firefighter-pilot who dies and returns as a guardian angel, only to watch his girlfriend (Holly Hunter) fall for someone else. On paper, it sounds like classic Spielbergian whimsy, but the execution is surprisingly subdued—almost fragile.
What many people don’t realize is that Always came at a pivotal moment in Spielberg’s career. By 1989, he had already redefined Hollywood with his blockbuster formula, but this film feels like a deliberate step back. It’s slower, more introspective, and unapologetically sentimental. In my opinion, this is what makes it both fascinating and polarizing. Critics like Roger Ebert dismissed it as Spielberg’s weakest since 1941, but I’d argue that its flaws are part of its charm. It’s a film that wears its heart on its sleeve, even if that heart occasionally stumbles.
Why Always Matters More Than You Think
One thing that immediately stands out is how Always defies the typical Spielberg formula. There are no aliens, no dinosaurs, no edge-of-your-seat chases. Instead, it’s a story about love, loss, and the messy business of moving on. From my perspective, this is what makes it so underrated. In an era where Spielberg was expected to deliver spectacle, he chose to explore something quieter—and perhaps more universal.
A detail that I find especially interesting is the casting of Audrey Hepburn in her final film role. Her presence as the spirit guide Hap adds a layer of timeless elegance to the film, but it also feels symbolic. Hepburn’s character is a bridge between life and death, much like Always itself bridges Spielberg’s blockbuster past and his more introspective future. If you take a step back and think about it, this film is a turning point in his career, a moment where he dared to experiment with tone and theme.
The Broader Implications of *Always*
This raises a deeper question: Why do we struggle to accept artists when they step outside their comfort zones? Spielberg’s filmography is so diverse that it’s easy to forget he’s capable of making something as intimate as Always. Yet, when he does, it’s often written off as a misstep. What this really suggests is that our expectations can blind us to the nuances of an artist’s evolution.
Personally, I think Always is a reminder that even the most successful filmmakers are still searching—for new stories, new emotions, new ways to connect. It’s not a perfect film, but its imperfections make it human. In a world where blockbusters dominate the cultural conversation, Always feels like a quiet rebellion, a love letter to the power of storytelling in its simplest form.
Final Thoughts
If there’s one takeaway from Spielberg’s rediscovery of Always, it’s this: sometimes the most underrated works are the ones that challenge our expectations. This film may not be his best, but it’s undeniably his. It’s a testament to his willingness to take risks, to explore themes that don’t always fit neatly into his larger body of work.
So, is Always worth another shot? Absolutely. But approach it with an open mind. Leave your preconceived notions of what a “Spielberg film” should be at the door and let yourself be charmed by its quirks. After all, what makes art truly great isn’t perfection—it’s the courage to try something different. And in that sense, Always is as Spielberg as it gets.
