Well, hello, John Elway. It’s nice to meet you.

It’s been 42 years since Elway first arrived in Denver as the most celebrated and most controversial rookie quarterback in NFL history. Every aspect of his life since 1983, both on the field and off, has played out in front of microphones and cameras.

Or has it?

The Elway we met at the Ellie Caulkins Opera House earlier in November, both on the screen and in the flesh, was a welcome stranger. Vulnerable. Reflective. Thoughtful. Authentic. At peace.

No longer the necessarily arrogant, competitively driven Duke of Denver, this Elway is simply “Poppi,” 65-year-old retired father of four and grandfather of 10, with an 11th on the way.

By the end of the intensely personal, revelatory world-premiere screening of the new high-profile Netflix documentary “Elway,” selected to close out the 48th Denver Film Festival, an orange-clad crowd of about 1,500 stood and cheered, many wiping away genuine tears.

“Elway” will be released Dec. 22 on Netflix.

“When you watch this film, you are going to learn just how pressure-filled John’s life was — not just as a quarterback and as a player, but as a man,” documentary co-director Ken Rodgers told me amid the hoopla of red carpets, flashing lights, Broncos cheerleaders, retired players and three Super Bowl trophies.

“John has had an enormous presence on the national stage ever since high school. He went through college and the pros as a quarterback with a target on his back — and it took a toll. But when you see him now in the scenes that bookend the film, relaxing with his family (at their vacation home in Idaho), you see a John Elway you never, ever saw here in Denver — and that is the man outside of the quarterback. The man without the responsibilities.

“And I think it’s a good lesson for us all that there comes a time to reflect and not necessarily compete all the time.”

This is a movie where everyone knows the impossibly Hollywood plot going in — the three devastating Super Bowl shellackings, the public feud that got the feared and revered coach fired, and the two trophies that erased 14 years of futility and spurred Elway’s glorious ride into the Hall of Fame. The film is a love letter that’s going to be fun for any football fan not residing in Cleveland, Baltimore, Green Bay or Atlanta to watch.

But “Elway” becomes much more than a mere career retrospective after his retirement. If you were around at the time, you may have read about the devastating succession of personal losses, including the deaths of his twin sister and father within 18 months, and the crumbling of his fairy-tale marriage. I guarantee you have never before seen a tearful Elway talking about those losses with a completely unguarded heart. The only thing familiar about these remarkable scenes is the still ever-present camera in Elway’s face.

It’s almost like John Wayne — Elway’s knock-kneed, pigeon-toed hero, and a recurring metaphor in the film — has come along and shot that long calcified chip off his protege’s shoulder with a single bullet. It’s gone.

“People knew me when I was a player, but they didn’t really know me,” Elway said in a post-screening Q&A moderated by CBS4’s news anchor Michael Spencer. “Because of the media, I had to say certain things. I had to be tough.”

But when Rodgers first brought the idea of a documentary to Elway, he laid down a challenge unlike anything Elway had ever faced on a football field. “He told me I would have to be vulnerable,” Elway said. That’s something that does not compute with championship-caliber football players. In the NFL, vulnerability is weakness.

“I remember when Kenny told me, ‘Tighten up the laces tomorrow, because I’m going to ask you some tough questions,’” Elway said. “And he did. And it hit to the heart. And it’s the best thing that he could have done. And I’m so glad he did. At least everyone finally got to know the real me.”

“Elway,” in the end, turns out to be a family film. Football, it turns out, is just a highly effective plot device. Part of what makes the film so effective is the full and heartfelt participation of Janet Elway, his wife of 18 years, and most of their now adult children. (Elway’s second marriage in 2009 is never acknowledged.)

“I am proud of my football career, but the thing that I’m most proud of is my kids,” Elway said. “I did not talk to them a lot about what was going on the football field at the time because they were so young. And so that’s part of the reason why I did the documentary. Now that they’re older, I wanted them to see what I was going through at that point in time. But they are the pride of my existence.”

And when he said that, a call came out from the audience: “We love you, Dad!”

Cue the tears. But make no mistake, there were football tears, too. One of the true joys of the film is watching an emotional Elway watching his own highlights, including perhaps the single signature play of his career. The one when the Broncos faced a third-and-6 on the Packers’ 12-yard line in Super Bowl XXXII. If you know, you know the play is forever remembered by one word.

“I cry every time I see the film,” Elway said — “but especially when I did ‘The Helicopter.’”