No year more than this past one has given us such a wide range of stories centered on fatherhood. Absent fathers, both emotionally and physically. Mourning and grieving fathers. Men becoming fathers. It’s interesting that this happened in the same year we also got a wave of stories about women on the verge of a nervous breakdown in their journeys through motherhood.
These stories aren’t new to cinema, but it is interesting that so many of them entered the chat with Oscar nominations. It truly feels like the year of “Daddy Issues.”
First up, we have Stellan Skarsgård in Sentimental Value. Stellan deserves all the praise that has rightfully come his way this season. Criminally overlooked and never nominated until finally this year. He plays the emotionally unavailable father who seemingly knows he missed the mark in raising his daughters, yet doesn’t ask us to see things from his point of view or offer an apology for the choices he made. Though I typically lean toward actors who “act,” Stellan plays this character brilliantly through subtlety. We end up feeling like his daughters, aching for things to change, but nothing ever does. So we are forced to hold on to what we have and move forward, even without reconciliation.
Then we have fathers dealing with grief: Paul Mescal in Hamnet and Michael B. Jordan as Smoke in Sinners. Paul’s grief is loud. It boils over from anger to sadness and through all the stages in between. He doesn’t keep it bottled up. He fully expresses it and releases it. Paul is profound, and to me, an absolute revelation. I say that because I never took him seriously as an actor before, so color me surprised.
Michael’s grief in Sinners is restrained. He doesn’t let us fully into his pain, but you see it in his desperation to protect. He even slightly projects his hurt onto his wife. His way of handling grief is to lock it down, refuse to face it, and keep it tucked away. So far, this is Michael’s best work yet.
Next, we have fathers in denial. Timothée Chalamet gets his friend and lover pregnant in Marty Supreme, but denies it throughout most of the film. He wants nothing to do with the possibility of being a father. His dreams come first, everything else comes last. It isn’t until the end that he finally accepts what is coming. Sean Penn is the opposite. In One Battle After Another, Penn fathers a Black daughter, and to rid himself of the scorn and shame of being in the good ol’ boys club with a Black daughter, he must remove her so she won’t be seen as a blemish on what he believes are the “right” ideals and morals. Sean refuses to accept her as his own and is willing to do whatever it takes to erase her from his world.
Lastly, we have Leo, the erratic helicopter dad living on the fringes of society, desperately hiding and trying to protect. Leo is the obvious best part of One Battle After Another, and that’s due to how he portrays this character. He goes big and swings for the fences, somehow perfectly marrying anxious energy with hilarious outrage. Honestly, and objectively speaking, I don’t think anyone could have played this part better than Leo did. I just wish I could love the movie itself, because then it wouldn’t feel like such a nothingburger of a film.
I noticed a theme running through all of these performances. These are men who do not know how to properly handle their emotions and who struggle to express vulnerability. A common issue among men, and certainly a worthwhile conversation. Women are often expected to be the emotional, loving, consoling presence in a child’s life, while men are expected to be the provider, protector, and disciplinarian. For the most part, that general framework works. But it becomes problematic when those roles are pushed to extremes. When women are seen only as emotional caretakers and men only as providers and protectors, it traps both into boxes. Children then miss out on vital parts of their parents.
Growing up, I am proud to say I received equal doses of both roles from my parents. My mom and dad were emotional, loving, consoling, providing, protecting, and disciplining. It gave me a well-rounded upbringing filled with love, mutual respect, and understanding. When those balances are missing, we get men who are emotionally crippled and unable to be vulnerable.
As a young father, it was important for me to see my dad be emotional, willing to cry in front of others, able to have deep conversations, and willing to wear his heart on his sleeve. It was equally important to see my mom step outside the home, start a career, and eventually become the head honcho because she persevered in what many would call a man’s space. Seeing my parents move in both lanes provided the foundation for who I am today.
The characters nominated this year do exist in the real world, maybe not to their cinematic extremes, but they exist. One of the reasons I was nervous about watching Hamnet was because I was afraid of how hard it would be to watch a parent lose a child, especially as a young father myself. I have seen people lose children. It is an unthinkable, horrible fear, and seeing it on screen makes it feel too real. I am so glad I watched Hamnet, my favorite film of the year, because of the beauty of embracing art as a pathway toward healing. Paul gave the performance of the year, and his snub still stings. Jessie and Paul were sublime, and the film was perfect in every way.
What shocked me most was the discourse surrounding Hamnet and the unfair labels thrown at it: grief porn, emotional manipulation, overacting, boring. When I read negative reviews, many of them came from men. It made me wonder. Were these critics being overly harsh because they preferred a different film and saw this one as competition? Or was it too emotionally vulnerable for them to wrestle with? Or was it simply not their taste?
I am fine with differing opinions. You are allowed to disagree with my stances and still be my friend. I’m not that type of person.
One can criticize Hamnet, Sinners, or even One Battle After Another and still acknowledge their merit. I have certainly been harsh on One Battle, and I struggle to see much worth in it. Still, I am happy to see a great director finally get his due, even if I believe it’s for the wrong film. Sinners is not my favorite either. I enjoyed aspects of it, but it isn’t my cup of tea. Yet these films have been highly praised and are frontrunners for awards. They seem almost protected from losing. Hamnet has not received the same treatment.
From what I’ve seen, several male critics on major sites have written about Hamnet with noticeable disdain. I struggle with that. To me, it reads as an inability to emotionally engage with what the film demands. When criticism feels rooted in judgment rather than honest engagement, it makes me hesitant to read that critic again.
This raises bigger questions. What is the role of a critic? Where do we draw the line between critique and avoidance? And is this about film at all, or is it about a broader developmental issue in society where emotional stunting has become normalized?
I am torn, but it felt necessary to bring this to my Let’s Talk Cinema readers.
I appreciate seeing these performances of complex men and women navigating parenthood. Raising children in this world is hard. Seeing flawed parents on screen helps me avoid certain mistakes and sometimes helps me see where I need to grow. I love my children, but parenting is far more difficult than I ever imagined. That’s why screenwriters keep returning to flawed mothers and fathers.
The nominated performances this year gave us a wide spread of complex takes on parenthood. I’m grateful for art that holds up a mirror, even when I don’t like what I see.
I hope I can be a father who raises children who are emotional, complex, vulnerable, wild, and somewhat carefree. But looking at the state of the world, the state of film, and this year’s Oscar nominations, I’m left pondering questions about emotion and the role of criticism, especially when it feels like so many dropped the ball across different camps.
So what say you, readers? Now is your chance to express your thoughts on this subject. I simply ask that you be kind, be respectful… and of course, Let’s Talk Cinema.
