In the pantheon of 1990s cinema, Julia Roberts reigned as America’s sweetheart—the plucky, beautiful protagonist who always got her man. Yet in Chris Columbus’s 1998 drama Stepmom , Roberts trades her trademark romantic-comedy buoyancy for something far more complex: the role of Isabel Kelly, a career-driven photographer struggling to win the affection of her boyfriend’s resentful children. Against her is not a villain, but the dying biological mother, Jackie, played with searing vulnerability by Susan Sarandon. Stepmom transcends its tearjerker label to offer a profound meditation on the evolution of motherhood, the dignity of mortality, and the idea that love is defined not by biology, but by persistent, unglamorous presence. Through Roberts’s performance, the film argues that the stepmother, often cast as a fairy-tale antagonist, can be an authentic and heroic figure in her own right.
At its core, Stepmom is a study in contrasts. Jackie Harrison represents the classical, sacrificial mother: she gave up a promising career as an architect to raise her children, Anna and Ben. Her love is instinctual, forged in the crucible of childbirth and the mundane rituals of childhood. Isabel, on the other hand, is modernity incarnate. She is ambitious, stylish, and accustomed to controlling her own schedule. When she attempts to step into Jackie’s role—packing lunches, enforcing homework rules, or offering advice—she is met with open hostility, particularly from the daughter, Anna. The film smartly refuses to make Isabel an instant success. Her early attempts at bonding feel forced; she buys the children expensive gifts and tries to be a “friend,” only to be dismissed as an intruder. Roberts masterfully conveys the humiliation and quiet desperation of trying to earn love in a household where your very presence is a reminder of loss. stepmom julia roberts movie
Ultimately, Stepmom endures because it dares to suggest that motherhood is not a zero-sum game. A stepmother does not erase a biological mother, nor does a dying mother diminish the stepmother’s future. Through Julia Roberts’s grounded, unsentimental performance, Isabel Kelly becomes a new kind of screen heroine: one who wins not by defeating her rival, but by learning to stand beside her. In doing so, Stepmom redefines family not as a matter of blood, but as a deliberate act of will and love—a lesson that remains as resonant today as it was in 1998. In the pantheon of 1990s cinema, Julia Roberts