The other night I settled down to see a film about an author called Beth who discovers her husband thinks her new book is bad. Too close to the bone, you might think – except my other half would like to go on record (wouldn’t you, Tom?) to say that he thinks my latest manuscript is my best yet, exceptional, a masterpiece. But I started watching this movie through metaphorical splayed fingers, because it all felt a bit awks.

You Hurt My Feelings stars Julia Louis-Dreyfus as writer Beth Mitchell (same initials!?!) and Tobias Menzies as her husband Don (rhymes with Tom!?!), playing a devoted couple who share ice creams and really get on, except one day she overhears him telling her brother-in-law that he thinks her work-in-progress is a pile of shite. To be clear, he has read drafts of this book at least twenty times, and every time has assured her it’s great, so this is a serious shock. Cue her retching in the street, distraught. To say he’s hurt her feelings is an understatement. Everything shifts on its axis, and she starts to question their whole relationship.

It doesn’t sound like much, though, does it? He’s not having an affair, he’s not secretly a spy or a murderer, or gambling their money away. He just said he liked her book, when he didn’t. But it’s such a glorious can of worms, and the way they both deal with it is sweet, hilarious, cringe-making and wonderful.

The subplots complement this main thread, and are superbly performed by the supporting cast. Beth’s sister Sarah, an interior designer, is (professionally) bruised by her client’s repeated rejection of her chosen light fittings. Sarah’s husband Mark craves recognition as an actor for something other than the weird pumpkin film he appeared in years ago. Beth’s husband Don questions his success as a therapist and suffers from anxiety about ageing. Beth herself, in her sideline as a creative writing tutor, is required to be gushingly upbeat about the work of her unpublished students. Beth and Don’s son Eliot fears he is an underachiever over-encouraged by doting parents (who actually prefer each other to him, now that he thinks about it). Everyone propping each other up, needling each other, letting each other down – hurt feelings everywhere.

Writer director Nicole Holofcener manages her narrative deftly, in a series of New York talky-talky scenes that make you want to move to Manhattan, open a bookshop and marry Billy Crystal in 1989. Sarah finds a wall light that satisfies, in more ways than one - possibly my favourite joke of the film, though I won’t spoil it for you. Mark upstages the star of his next play, passing on the hurt to another sensitive thespian. Don-the-therapist exchanges non-judgemental listening for robust advice, and tackles his self-consciousness with surgery (the resulting black eyes a fitting punishment for his well-intentioned crime?). Eliot’s insecurity about his place in the family hierarchy is beautifully, hysterically resolved in a farcical hold-up that says so much about parental love, and left me weeping as well as laughing.

But what about Beth, and her book? Is the book bad? Was Don right? That is, was he right in his genuine opinion, and was he right to withhold it? Well, I don’t want to give anything away, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. None of it matters, really, and yet it does, so much. That’s the true beauty of this film. People can write about sad things, and make them sad, but it takes real skill and vision to write about something that’s not very sad – something that is, in a way, trivial - and make it matter. You Hurt My Feelings manages to take a series of not-very-serious incidents, and make them funny, profound, moving and consequential. Words can hurt; opinions – those of loved ones, friends, colleagues or strangers – can be wounding, and whether to air them or not requires careful judgement. Overdo the praise, and you can give someone an inflated idea of their own worth, making the subsequent reality check all the more devastating. But, obviously, criticism is the worst. Ask any author who just got a one-star on Goodreads. Reviewing is a delicate art, and far too many hot takes are aired nowadays. Sometimes it’s better to keep it to yourself.

Which is what this film does, in the end. The conclusion is gorgeously underplayed, ambiguous, the action coming to a close before we find out the most significant verdict of all. Do Eliot’s parents think his play is any good? It’s a Schrödinger’s Call of an ending, but it doesn’t really matter, because Eliot knows they would both take a bullet for him.

Ironically, Nicole Holofcener’s feelings were hurt because her movie was denied a theatrical window in the UK, instead going straight to Amazon Prime. She’s right to feel stung; she deserved more. It might not count for much, but my verdict is that her film is a small wonder, a true gem, illuminating the darkness with the perfect light fitting.

And I really mean that.

• You Hurt My Feelings, Amazon Prime