Set your Listicles on these Movies 

Abandoning Cliches in Films About Men

First of all, let’s abandon one idiotic cliché about men’s movies: 

They’re all shoot-em-up, sexist, unconscionably violent sublimations of violence that appeal to the barely-latent homosexual that resides in all macho tough guys. And that’s the polite way of saying it. Do these other ways sound familiar? 

Guy Movies Are Violent – Violence Drives the Storyline. 

Violence Has No Consequences – Two Thousand People Die in the Opening Scene but We Don’t Notice Because Our Hero is Still Alive 

The World is Good or Bad – Forget Subtle, Forget Crying, Forget Love. Shoot those fuckers. Unless you can fuck those fuckers. Then fuck ‘em. Then shoot ‘em.  

The problem a lot of men have with these ideas isn’t that they’re wrong.

There’s a lot of movies that seem pretty hell-bent on displaying the worst of the Y chromosome. And the fact that some of these awful films are big hits is something to either celebrate (what diversity in cinema!) or lament (you dumb motherfuckers will see anything that blows up, won’t you?). 

So it’s not because these descriptors are wrong. That’s not the problem. 

The problem is that they’re incomplete. 

Yes, guy movies can be shoot-em up gorefests where tough guys look about a 40oz away from making out with their cop partner or road trip buddy. And if your girlfriend or spouse or even your boyfriend wants to go to a movie tonight, you probably have a few of these movies to choose from. 

But here’s why it’s incomplete.  

These are crappy movies. 

Believe it or not, not every moneymaking movie is a good choice. And not every direct-to-video flick is awful (although most of them are). The “guy movies” that are the easy layups for clichéd headlines are guy movies. 

Godfather I and Godfather II were men’s movies. I do not know what the hell happened with Godfather III. But we won’t be talking about it. 

We will not be including Bat Pussy in our exploration of men’s sexuality. 

We will politely pretend that Superman IV: The Quest for Peace was never given wide release in cinemas. 

The Bill Cosby film series will also be ignored, not out of revulsion for his personal behavior, but out of revulsion for his actual films. This includes an explicit reminder that neither reason would strike us so deeply if he hadn’t reached us so beautifully on television and stage. 

We must always remember that Paul Verhoeven is Dutch, and little else needs to be said about that. 

Subtitled films are rare for our lists. Not because world cinema doesn’t have some incredible men’s movies – Cinema Paradiso, for instance, is a man’s man film, and if you can watch it without feeling, then you are a bastard – but because aesthetics is culturally specific. Some of the stuff made for native audiences (any of Gerard Depardieu’s comedies in French, for instance) don’t succeed in translation. 

So, Let’s talk about movies for men. 

Film school kids have their criteria, and so do their professors. Gaffers have theirs. Lawyers have theirs. But those lists wind up to be life-view-affirming lists. In other words, movies that show me people I know and like are usually the main qualification for the lists. 

We’ll get to some examples of where that bias makes recommendations seriously flawed – but that’s the subject for another list. 

Our recommendations are based on the idea of a spectrum. I suck at top ten lists; I can’t narrow anything down, and the endless arguments about what film is left out or what should be number 1 just drain a person’s soul for no reason. 

In the spectrum of men’s movies, we have two extreme ends:  

On one side resides the “self-indulgent prick” type of film. The auteur oeuvre. The kind that people talk about when they think they’re talking about men’s films. At their worst, they are the Guy Films; but at their best – and some of them are damn good, the truths they tell are revealing about misplaced passion, frustrated dreams, and confusion about a man’s role in the world. 

So, one side of the spectrum tends to display unmoored, violent passions –  

And that’s a hard topic to do well. For every “Point Break” (1993), there are dozens of “Ballistic: Ecks vs Sever” abominations. (There’s only one “Ecks vs. Sever,” thank all things holy for that.) 

But the keynote is people struggling to control crazy levels of passion – for women, for revenge, for past wrongs, for deep losses – and while fantasy wish-fulfillment is part of what keeps us going to these movies, the worst ones confuse the action for the wishes it makes real. 

A B-movie director, retired on Maui, told me there that he could sell any film, no matter how bad, if the video box had a big-titted woman in a bikini holding a gun. “So if you can sell that many bad movies, what the hell are you wasting your time trying to make good movies for?” 

Because craft matters to men, and we have the films to prove it. 

On the other side of the spectrum, the films are about as different as you expect. Men have a desire to see calm, rational expressions of passion through art, jobs, and relationships. (By the way, we always have. For as long as stories have been told, heroes have been at their center). If you had to assign a quote to the topic, it would be “the world does certainly seem to run fairly well when people know what the fuck they’re doing” genre.  

You can doll up the genres that this end of the spectrum brings to mind: the Warrior’s Journey is a popular way of looking at it. The story of what men can achieve together (and not because women aren’t there, that’s another message entirely) – but tropes and genres aren’t quite sufficient to label this end of the spectrum. Because these films, like films about passions and pain, are represented in all genres.  

You could go nuts trying to organize so many lists. But the truth is simpler than that: 

The farthest point on the spectrum away from “actual porn” is in fact “confidence porn.” 

Despite how easy “Apollo 13” makes it look, this kind of film is tough to make properly. Films that aspire to confidence porn can veer into cliché so easily that there’s a whole slew of films that are simply unwatchable.  

If anyone on the producing team loses confidence in the film, you wind up with the “coaxing the super-competent-but-depressed-and-drunk guy off of a barstool and getting him to do his job again” scene, which almost never works. 

That’s it. After all the slicing and dicing, it boils down to this:  

Almost all films for men exist somewhere between actual porn and confidence porn. 

There are genres in between, but if you look closely, most of them lean decidedly toward one or the other of these two poles: 

  • Disaster flicks 
  • Cop Movies 
  • Superheroes 
  • Sports Movies 
  • Fantasy Movies 
  • Sci-Fi Movies 
  • Courtroom Dramas 
  • Biopics 
  • Road Trip Movies 
  • Melodramas. 

That’s a lot of different types of movies.  

Thank god we have professors studying them for us. 

Actually, there’s more than one industry dedicated to studying them. But we do have academics parsing film by film to determine where each title belongs (Is “Field of Dreams” a sports movie or a melodrama?). This is a noble effort which allows academics to feel like filmmakers without ever having to subject themselves to the risk of making a film. Or, more importantly, it’s an industry that allows us to remain generally unbothered by the shitstorm of bad movies that academics make whenever somebody funds them.   

Because You Liked “The Shawshank Redemption,” We Recommend “Powerpuff Girls.” 

The second industry is more interesting at the moment. The field of data science is enjoying the work you can do with movies. Netflix is famous for its “recommendation engine,” which takes note of what you watch, how long or how often you watch it, and compares that data with the same small choices from millions of other subscribers. So when it says “recommended for you” on the main menu, it’s not an accident, and it’s not based on movies you took the time to actually rate (it used to matter more if you rated the movie – but that was always a dubious measure). 

You Don’t Watch What You Say You Watch 

What makes the Netflix engine more interesting than most academics’ work is that Netflix is based on choices you make when deciding how to spend unmeasured time. Put another way: it’s based on decisions you make when nobody’s looking. As a result, it tends to be more reliable. 

Remember, PBS used to do much better in the ratings when ratings were collected by response books. Actual booklets were mailed to “Nielsen Families,” who marked what they watched every week, and PBS did pretty well. “I love me some Great Performances! Gimme more ‘dat opera!” And then people were more than a bit surprised when cable boxes came out and revealed that the National Anthem airing at the end of the night on network TV was far more widely watched than anything on PBS. 

And it turns out that such recommendation engines aren’t even that tough to write. I’m writing one. This subsection of the website is the beginning of the project. 

You Don’t Watch Movies from Lists 

And I don’t particularly like writing them. But when you’re a psychotherapist who works with men, eventually, you realize that you spend a lot of time answering questions motivated by movies. Sometimes it’s straightforward: “Dude, is there even a movie that talks about this?” Or sometimes it’s “do you know ANYTHING I can watch with her without me falling asleep or her calling me an idiot?” Or even “Can you recommend a movie that *I* can recommend so my wife will think I’m interesting?” 

At first, I’d go to the movies I knew and liked best – like most of us do. And I have the luxury of having some experience in the field, both as a lapsed academic and a maker of bad movies. So my suggestions were fairly wide-ranging. 

But after a while, I realized I was trying to pigeonhole the same movies for different purposes. Or I’d go to one of my favorites a bit too often, and suddenly, the session was about my taste in movies and not the needs of the man in front of me. And that’s how you get a crappy counselor. 

So, when I boiled down what I was really most clinically qualified to recommend in films for men, I realized there was only one criterion: 

Don’t Waste Your Time on Shitty Movies 

There are exceptions to this commandment. If you deliberately decide to watch a shitty movie – which should be a group activity, like drinking champagne – then go ahead. If you watch crap movies alone, you’re effectively drinking Mad Dog 20/20 out of a paper bag. And that’s an offense. 

And never apologize for liking bad movies. Just don’t mistake them for good ones. And know that the more lousy movies you watch, the harder it will be to spot the good ones. 

 

Cinematherapy – Roxanne, A Study in Acceptance and Recovery

Trigger Alert: there is a lot of big 80s hair in this film, casual references to drug use, and a cultural acceptance of fistfighting that we do not currently praise.  If you are troubled by these elements, take time and space.

1980s trailers give the plots away, so be warned: spoilers.

Acceptance and Surrender in Recovery: Synopsis 

In this modern take on Edmond Rostand’s classic play “Cyrano de Bergerac,” C. D. Bales (Steve Martin) is the witty, intelligent, and brave fire chief of a small Pacific Northwest town who, due to the size of his enormous nose, declines to pursue the girl of his dreams, lovely Roxanne Kowalski (Daryl Hannah). Instead, when his shy underling Chris McConnell (Rick Rossovich) becomes smitten with Roxanne, Bales feeds the handsome young man the words of love to win her heart. While the film is enjoyable all on its own, it stands out as a lesson in acceptance and surrender that can help us sustain our recovery.

Main characters:  

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093886/

Plot:

C.D. “Charlie” Bales, the fire chief of the small ski town of Nelson, Washington, is an intelligent, humorous, charismatic, athletic, and skilled man. Regardless, he is rather sensitive about his abnormally large nose, which many in town have learned not to talk about; he cannot have it surgically altered due to a dangerous allergy to anesthetics. Still, he is close to many residents, especially his god-sister, Dixie, who owns the town diner and several rental homes. When the beautiful Roxanne Kowalski, a graduate student in astronomy, arrives to search for a new comet during the summer, he, like many others in town, becomes immediately attracted to her. She adores C.D. but only as a friend, preferring Chris, a handsome but dim-witted fireman, newly arrived in town to train the local firefighters, who are quite incompetent. 

Roxanne goes to C.D. for help when Chris fails to advance their relationship further than curious glances. After seeing him pick up a book by Sartre for a friend, she wrongly believes Chris is deeply intelligent. When C.D. informs Chris of Roxanne’s interest, Chris feels sick as he is intimidated by intelligent women. Chris starts to write her a letter, but it takes all day with little result. He convinces C.D. to write the letter, with prose that soon woos Roxanne. When informed that Roxanne wants to meet him, Chris again feels sick and refuses to meet until C.D. comes up with a plan to allow him to be as brilliant as his letter makes him appear.

Chris arrives at Roxanne’s house with a hunter’s cap on, hiding the earphones that relay C.D.’s words. Chris bungles the meeting when the equipment fails by speaking his crass thoughts. After Roxanne storms back into the house furious, Chris begs C.D. to fix his mess again. At first, he attempts to repeat what he’s being prompted from under a tree beneath Roxanne’s window, but he soon also ruins that. Then they switch jackets and hats so C.D. can speak as Chris. They achieve their goal, and she invites Chris in to make love. 

Hunter’s Hat on First Date. Totally Normal.

And Things Get Complicated.

Roxanne gets word about the comet and has to go out of town for a week. She tells C.D. first since she had shared the possibility with him. She asks if Chris is around, but since he isn’t, she gives the address of her hotel and asks him to tell Chris to write her. Instead of informing Chris, C D. writes her several times daily, each letter more incredible than the last. As C.D. writes a new letter to her in Dixie’s diner, he is told Chris is on his way to see Roxanne since she returned early. After a game of ding dong dash, he arrives at her home and warns Chris that Roxanne will be mentioning some letters he supposedly wrote. She tries to get Chris to be the man in the letters, revealing that his looks are only secondary to her.

Feeling ill due to knowing that his looks are all he has, Chris runs out, leaving her confused. Dixie puts the last letter under Roxanne’s door, and after reading it, Roxanne calls C.D. over. 

Chris prepares to leave town with bartender Sandy, whom he met while Roxanne was away. When she asks if he has told Roxanne (the women are acquaintances), he replies that he will write her a letter since he has a history of it. 

Follow Your Nose

C.D. arrives, unaware that Roxanne knows the truth. She asks him to read one of the letters and then to look at the back, which shows that Dixie revealed its true author. She explodes in anger that he lied to her. He retorts that he wants to tell her how he feels about her, but she is only interested in Chris’s attractiveness. When he reminds her that Chris only took a few nice words to get her into bed, she punches him in the face and throws him out. As he prepares to say more, he stops and sniffs the air. He slowly walks back to the firehouse and alerts his team, who then “follow his nose” until they find and extinguish a fire in a barn that, if not contained, could burn down the entire town.

During their celebration afterward, someone mentions his nose, and although everyone thinks CD will get upset, he doesn’t. 

Back home, sitting on his roof, Bales hears someone speaking his words to him. It’s Roxanne declaring that she realized it was C.D.’s personality that she loved, not Chris’s looks. After she declares her love, C.D. stylishly descends from the roof, and they reconcile. During the credits, she reveals that she named the comet “Charlie” (C.D.’s first name), but after her father. 

Steve Martin learns acceptance the hard way, stuck behind a door. This isn't acceptance or surrender.

Questions for consideration: 

What does Charlie mean when he says “I’ve been a lot braver since then” to Roxanne? 

Charlie and Chris are fearless in some aspects of their personalities but deeply afraid in others. How does that contribute to their friendship? 

Why doesn’t Charlie beat the crap out of Chris when he first sees his nose? 

Why doesn’t Chris have nervous fits when flirting with the bartender? 

To what degree does Charlie carry resentments? How does he release them? 

Charlie cites his ethics as a reason not to write the letter for Chris. What changes his mind? 

Charlie uses his wit and charm to compensate for his nose. Why isn’t that enough? What does he have to learn to overcome that? 

Charlie punishes almost everyone who calls attention to his nose – do you ever punish people for discovering or mentioning your recovery? Your past actions while in active addiction? 

What lessons can you take from this film for your own acceptance and surrender in recovery? 

Final Questions: How Do We Appear to the Normies?

People in early recovery often report they feel looked down upon by the non-addicts and non-alcoholics in their lives. It can feel as though it’s obvious to everyone that we’re the freaks in the room. We “look” like addicts, even when we’re dressed nicely and on our best behavior. It doesn’t help that other addicts seem to be able to find us instantly, and we can see our own kind everywhere.  

But is that an accurate view of how we come off? Are we the giant-nosed rejects in the room, insisting that nobody say a word about our deformities? 

And even if that is how things are, what can we do about it? What works? What doesn’t? 

Roxanne is enjoyable on its own merits, and Steve Martin is a national treasure. And if you allow yourself to see the process of acceptance and surrender in recovery in the film, it becomes even more meaningful. Enjoy!

Further Review, Acceptance and Surrender in Recovery:

Cinematherapy Home Page

Review of the Blu-Ray of Roxanne

Rotten Tomatoes Says it’s Sappy but Smart

Other 1st Step Movies

Cinematherapy – 1st Step Illustrated by Groundhog Day

Trigger Alert: there are casual references to drinking and a number of comments by several characters voicing loneliness and despair about what never changes in their lives, including several suicide attempts depicted comically.  If you are troubled by these elements, take time and space.

Life Doesn’t Change Until You Surrender to It

Believe it or not, it’s a 1st Step Film.

A cynical TV weatherman relives the same day repeatedly when he goes on location to the small town of Punxsutawney to film a report about their annual Groundhog Day. His predicament drives him nearly insane until he learns to surrender to what life is giving him. 

Main Characters

Plot

Weatherman Phil Connors reassures Pittsburgh viewers that an approaching blizzard will miss Western Pennsylvania. He goes with news producer Rita Hanson and cameraman Larry to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, to cover the Groundhog Day festivities. Phil makes no secret of his contempt for the assignment, the small town, and the “hicks” who live there. 

The next day, Phil awakens at his Punxsutawney bed and breakfast to Sonny & Cher’s “I Got You Babe” on the clock radio. He tapes a half-hearted report on Punxsutawney Phil and the town’s festivities. Rita wants to stay and cover other events, but Phil wants to return to Pittsburgh. The blizzard blankets the region in snow, stranding them in Punxsutawney. He shuns the celebrations and returns to bed early. 

And so it begins.

Phil wakes up to “I Got You Babe” and the same DJ banter on the radio and discovers the day’s events repeating exactly. Phil relives the day and returns to bed, assuming it was a dream, but it is still Groundhog Day when he wakes again: he is trapped in a time loop that no one else is aware of. Realizing there are no consequences for his actions, he spends the first several loops indulging in binge drinking, one-night stands, and reckless driving. After spending several loops trying and failing to court Rita, he becomes depressed and attempts to take his life several times, but cannot escape the loop. He keeps waking up to the same alarm and the same radio broadcast every day. Desperate for a solution, Phil goes as far as to kidnap Punxsutawney Phil and drive off a cliff, hoping that killing the groundhog will end his curse. 

Things are Harder to Explain When You Can’t Surrender to Reality

Phil tries to explain his situation to Rita, for whom he has feelings, by accurately predicting the day’s events. Rita sympathizes, and they spend the entirety of one loop together, but Phil wakes up alone as usual. He decides to use his knowledge of the day’s events to better himself and the lives of others; he learns how to play the piano, sculpt ice, and speak French but cannot prevent the death of a homeless old man. 

Phil enthusiastically reports the Groundhog Day festivities during one loop, amazing Rita. They spend the rest of the day together, with Phil impressing her with his apparent overnight transformation and charitable deeds. She successfully bids for Phil at a charity bachelor auction. Phil makes an ice sculpture of Rita’s face and tells her that no matter what happens, even if he is doomed to continue awakening alone each morning forever, he wants her to know that he is finally happy because he loves her. They retire together to Phil’s lodgings. Phil wakes up to “I Got You Babe” again but finds Rita still in bed with him; he has escaped the time loop. He tells Rita he wants to live together with her in Punxsutawney.

Life Grows on You

The film’s initial critical response was modest. Critics generally found it a satisfying entertainment, and its critical reputation has grown over the years. Roger Ebert revised his review when the movie began to attain cult status some ten years after its release. 

The film has been described as the definition of Purgatory by some in the Christian traditions; it has also been claimed by many Buddhists who see the film as an illustration of how the cycle of Samsara, of being fated to live absently and frustratingly driven by our desires and our own habits day after day, can be broken through engagement and intimacy with the moment. 

A 1st Step Film About Surrender?

At first glance, Phil seems to be a cynical, world-weary professional who has not given up on life but has given up on challenging himself. But as the world continues to repeat itself over and over again, we see Phil for who he has always been: lonely, isolated, and living an unmanageable life. It is only when Phil, after waking up on the same day thousands of times, finally surrenders to the life he’s given and begins to care about others that the cycle is broken. 

Questions for consideration: 

What’s his reaction when Phil first realizes he’s just living the same day repeatedly? 

When you can get away with anything, does that make it more fun or less fun? 

Phil nearly seduces Rita. Why doesn’t he? What’s her reaction? What’s his? 

What function does Larry serve in the film? Is his reaction to Phil consistent? 

Whose life can’t be changed by Phil, no matter how many approaches he tries? What’s his reaction? 

Does the falling boy ever thank Phil? How does his reaction to that change over the course of the movie? 

What happens to break the cycle? 

Final Questions: 

Do we have to know what we’re surrendering to? 

For those who find the articles of faith in the 12 Steps off-putting, Groundhog Day offers some insight without the overtly religious overtones. Phil at first thinks he might be a god “Not THE God, I think…”, but soon begins to experience the odd fact that no matter how much he learns about the day he is living (by some accounts, he lives over 30 years of the same day), it is only by surrendering his will to control the day that he can emerge from it. 

How do we fool ourselves with our own idea of control, especially in early recovery? How do we see beginners in sobriety attempt to control every aspect of their lives immediately after detox? What tends to happen with that goal?  

And at the end of the day, compare this film to The Serenity Prayer. What do they have in common? How would you explain this film’s relevance to our shared condition to a normie who doesn’t understand our steps? How do we acquire the wisdom to know the difference?  

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