For over a century, the silver screen has been frequented by the “strong man” archetype—chiselled, square-jawed, and often of few words. From a cigarillo touting Clint Eastwood in the Dollars Trilogy to a serious and brooding Marlon Brando and indeed Gary Cooper, the stoic presence of this type of hero is ingrained in Hollywood history. More recently, however there has been a form of paradigm shift in the direction of male protagonists who, despite being imbued with a fair degree of Machismo, express vulnerability through therapy, adding dimension to their personality and allowing the audience to connect with them on a deeper level.
A salient example of this is Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini), protagonist of HBO’s The Sopranos. Lauded as the series that introduced mainstream television to the concept of the antihero, it saw millions of people tune in on Sundays at 9:00 PM to follow Tony and his struggle to balance his family life and his work as a Capo di capos of a New Jersey mafia family. As a show, it provides one of the most realistic depictions of psychotherapy in television to date. Lorraine Bracco, who plays Tony’s psychologist, Jennifer Melfi, received an award from the APA for creating the “Most credible psychoanalyst ever to appear in the cinema or on television.” Throughout Tony’s therapy sessions with her, he juggles his need to appear masculine, as the head of a mafia family, and the nature of his psychological condition- brimming with intense angst that spills over into panic attacks which see him lose consciousness. In the very first episode, he is dismissive of her attempts to therapize him, arguing “Whatever happened to Gary Cooper? The strong, silent type. That was an American. He wasn’t in touch with his feelings. He just did what he had to do.” Unlike protagonists such Eastwood’s Blondie or Brando’s Stanley Kowalski however, the depths of Tony’s psyche are laid bare with Dr Melfi’s therapy, imbuing him with a depth of character which, despite the audience witnessing his abhorrent capacity for violence, gives Tony a deep air of vulnerability endearing him to viewers to the extent that ‘Tony Soprano Syndrome’ has been coined as a state of admiration for morally dubious figures. Another prominent example of this is the deep guilt he feels at his son’s depressive state. Through misty, carnal eyes he laments in a voice laced with self-hatred; “Its in his blood, this miserable fucking existence, I’ve infected my kid’s soul”. Despite the show being replete with scenes of Tony’s emotional depth, the creator, David Chase, never forgets to remind us of the less pleasant facets of his character—Tony commits six murders and six beatings onscreen throughout the show to maintain his position at the top. The Sopranos provides a contemporary spin on the heroic archetype- a modern, family man, showing vulnerability which allows the audience to empathise with him, simultaneously embodying the worst of masculinity, violence, greed, and hunger for power. In short, therapy is the vessel through which David Chase creates in Tony Soprano one of the most nuanced, multifaceted, and intense characters to ever grace the television screen.
Good Will Hunting (1997) is an emotionally intense exploration of vulnerability and masculinity, the zenith of a Bildungsroman in film form. It follows the journey of Will Hunting (Matt Damon), an orphan of genius level intellect, who attempts to repress his troubled past amid the gritty setting of 1990’s South Boston. The therapy scenes are among some of the most emotional and powerful in cinematic history, seeing Dr Sean Maguire (Robin Williams) trying to break down the stubborn defence mechanisms of Will, who is terrified of vulnerability. Much like Tony, Will uses avoidance and intellectualisation initially to pejorate the idea of psychotherapy, presenting it as fundamentally opposing to his character. In Will this also stems from the fear of emasculation—he is presented as a hot headed, facetious young man who enjoys intellectual confrontation as much as physical. It is in the emotional confrontation provided by therapy, however, that the growth in his character becomes visible. Sean puts himself on the same level as Will rather than approaching him clinically, to try and get around Will’s emotional barricade. When Will cracks a joke about his dead wife, Sean (in a somewhat unprofessional manner for a therapist) attempts to strangle him. The film speaks for the importance of human connection in the therapeutic journey, with it cresting in the renowned “Its not your fault” scene, where Sean directly challenges Will’s deep rooted negative self-perception by repeatedly uttering “Its not your fault” in a crescendo of volume and intensity, culminating in Will’s dissolving into tears in Sean’s embrace. This scene acts as an intense cathartic moment, releasing Will of years of supressed emotion. The success of the therapy is seen in the final moments of the film, where he choses to pursue his love interest, Skylar (Minnie Driver), to whom he had closed himself off emotionally throughout the course of the film. To summarise, Good Will Hunting is a poignant portrayal of the importance and benefits of vulnerability and therapy for young men, especially when truly experiencing a connection with the therapist.
In conclusion, characters such as Tony and Will, and their therapeutic journeys, serve as microcosms for changing perceptions of masculinity, standing as bulwarks against the idea that men cannot, or should not, be in touch with their emotions. In an age seeing the alarming rise of brain-dead manosphere populists peddling such outdated notions, nuanced male characters are more important than ever.
“Gary Cooper” by twm1340 is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.