Abe (2020)

Abe is the kind of small, quietly radiant film that sneaks up on you—warming the room with the simple, universal truth that food can say what families sometimes can’t. Set in a lived-in Brooklyn and anchored by a wonderfully sincere performance from Noah Schnapp, it balances gentle comedy with real emotional stakes, letting cultural and interfaith tensions exist without turning anyone into a villain. The movie’s greatest pleasure is its genuine curiosity: every dish feels like an invitation, every kitchen moment a chance for connection, and you may find yourself hungry in more ways than one. It’s not a high-drama crowd-pleaser, but if you’re in the mood for an inspiring, heartfelt family story with the aroma of hope rising from the stove, Abe earns your time.

Abe wants to be a warm, crowd-pleasing story about a kid using food to bridge a family split by Israeli-Palestinian tension, and the intention is genuinely sweet. The problem is it often plays like a lesson you can see coming a mile away, smoothing over complicated issues into something a bit too neat and simplistic to feel earned. With a crowded cast and familiar beats, it can come off bland and clichéd rather than insightful, leaving adults underfed and younger viewers not quite entertained enough. If you’re in the mood for a gentle, well-meaning family dramedy with some appetizing cooking moments, it’s fine—but don’t expect much bite or depth.