Happy Sad Man is a beautiful, moving portrait of masculinity. But… that alone doesn’t explain the mystery of why I found it SO captivating.
Allow me to get a little reflective here and pour these thoughts into the internet. I’m trying to capture precisely what it is about this film that has slipped through my fingers each time I watched it.
I’ve caught the movie four and a half times because something compelled me to catch it over and over.. So this won’t be a standard review, I’m also kinda processing and sense-making.
Happy Sad Man is a documentary about so much more than masculinity, it’s also about relationships, the connectivity between men and the world which kinda holds them together.
On screen I’ve watched it play out secret stories from my life. I’ve seen my father, my friends, my self…
On its surface the movie invites us into the lives of 5 different men, people from all kinds of backgrounds and life experience, but I think if we look a little closer I will be able to figure out… what treasure exactly lies at its core.
So, come with me and let’s see if we can uncover why this movie hits so bloody hard, I’ll keep it spoiler free.
Let’s begin with the director.
Through the lens of her camera, Geneveive Bailey offers us a deeply moving view into the inner life of masculinity.
At first I didn’t understand how we’d gotten a Q&A with the director.
When I first heard my organisation was putting the film on for our volunteers I was a little confused. I mean, don’t get me wrong I was keen to watch it! But I couldn’t quite wrap my head around how we’d gotten the director to attend the virtual screening.
The movie came out a few years ago and we’re a non-profit so it’s not like we have much to offer aside from gratitude!
At this point I knew literally nothing about the movie, hadn’t heard about it or Gen herself but I was excited to see what the fuss was about. The trailer had me curious.
So the conference call started up and there she was. Gentle, yet energetic. Kind. She struck me as balancing between both having a lot to say, but also really wanting to listen. She seemed perceptive.
As soon as Gen started talking… it made sense.
Gen came along to the virtual screening because… that’s who she is.
Gen is starting a conversation with this film, not just figuratively – literally.
She wants to talk about it! Makes sense right? She made a whole movie about it! lol.
The first thing that struck me was how easygoing she seemed, happy to connect, to open up.
Happy Sad Man later came to Brisbane and I brought some friends along to two different screenings. Gen did the same thing! Got up with a microphone at the start and end of the movie and literally started conversations.
The audience members would ask questions about the beautiful men in the movie, about the filming process, about mental health even.
And Gen would open up, showing trust and getting real, with a sprinkle of confident vulnerability.
At one screening the audio wasn’t working to start with, so she picked up the mic again and cracked a few jokes to break the tension.
It’s no wonder she has so much comfort with a crowd, Gen treats her art like a living thing, an experience to be shared, a conversation to be had.
Beneath this subtle, heartwarming picture there’s a constant presence. It underscores the editing, the shots, the b roll, the heart rending soundtrack.
It’s been weeks since I last saw the documentary and the more I think about it, the closer I am to articulating the shape and size of this mystery that seems to pull me into its vortex.
At its heart, this documentary breaks stigma.
There’s a spirit of stepping through emotional barriers.
We meet each of these 5 people close up and the story unfolds as we learn more about them, their accomplishments, their struggles, relationships…
The journey feels like a wave breaking, blossoming and unfolding the stories of masculinity we don’t often get to see on the big screen.
One example of this, midway through the movie there’s a shot of a little old man walking back to his car. He had the courage to speak up about grief, losing his wife, the idea of not quite knowing whether you’re in depression or not. It’s a sliver of footage that contains such depth behind it.
In that single moment there’s an ocean of loss, of grief, but also the simple reality of getting on with it.
It’s an everyday moment we pass by without a second thought.
But captured on screen with such attention to detail, precise editing and beautiful music…
We get to see a more complex, heartfelt masculinity.
A masculinity that’s sometimes faltering, sometimes manic… That has quiet moments of anxiety, and loud moments of laughter. A masculinity that sings and dances and hurts and yet… Speaks its hurt. Articulating the pain that so many men struggle to.
I watched the film every chance I had, which was quite a few because I happened to be in Sydney while it showed there!
After one screening I got to spend time with Gen 1:1 and feel her passion for her mission. It’s clear she’s deeply connected to people and really cares about connecting people to one another and even themselves.
We chatted a lot about people. About connection and space holding.
Another clue clicked into place.
Recently I was thinking about the film through the lens of what I do for work.
For context I spend my days working in suicide prevention. I train volunteers, supervise them on service and I help people in crisis. I write about it when I’m not working. I talk about it when I’m not writing. I think about it when I’m not talking… you get the point.
I’ve got this mission that has sometimes burned so bright that my partner and I have developed little signals and systems so I don’t slip into mania. Otherwise I can be prone to throwing all of my body’s needs out the window for weeks in order to get something done (like build a website or.. something).
So… Why did this documentary hit me so hard?
It helps that the soundtrack is absolutely gorgeous.
Have a listen and find out for yourself:
http://www.nickhugginsmusic.com/happy-sad-man
The score has enough subtle, gentle complexity to match what’s on screen, the masterful editing and blooming of the unfolding story with those devastating moments of everyday courage.
The music is incredible, but there’s something else to define here. Back to that lens.
I have all this experience trying to put words to suicide prevention work so people can understand the simple elegance of non-judgement.
In practice non-judgement looks like ‘doing the work’. It means going into our life experience, integrating the pains and hurts we have, healing our ego to move from fragile to stable, releasing the roles we’re attached to and find validation from. It’s tough inner work repairing the destruction of old traumas (big and small) so people have space to be themselves.
It’s like clearing a garden bed before planting. We’ve got to take out all the rocks and old roots and crap first to give the flowers their best chance at blooming.
I have spent now almost 7 years in increasingly deep levels of pursuit of expressing this in one way or another… And Gen absolutely nailed it.
Each person we meet on screen, each intimate closeup and larger than life personality, at the heart of it all is a person who starts conversations, who reaches out past the walls we build and makes enough of a feeling of belonging, of safety, of trust, that the whole world gets to share in the result.
The film shows us what it looks like to create reciprocity.
Relationships where trust is present in every touch, in every smile, in every frown and tear and word.
These men open up with heart shattering vulnerability because we’re being modeled what it looks like to hold an open heart when talking with someone in pain. To listen without giving advice, to hold space for someone’s shame or hurt.
It’s a skillset that changed my life to work on and develop, my relationships evolved, the people I attracted toward me started to change, my work, my relationship to myself, to my parents…
It’s a skillset that Gen puts on screen with such finesse because she embodies wholehearted listening.
She found these incredible, beautiful men and allowed them to open up.
The everyday courage of managing anxiety and surfing bipolar…
Each story had its own flavour and style, enhancing the telling. I won’t ruin them because I want you to watch the movie! But here’s a little summary.
Grant talking about his experience with thoughts of suicide, falling into a frightening depression, or even just the joy of surfing and empowering others to open up.
John describing the long, slow rollercoaster of mania, the hurts and accomplishments of a life spent living in the moment.
Jake showing us his pensive, thoughtful way of navigating through cities torn apart by war and the intimate journey of making sense of fatherhood.
David telling the story of his adorable sausage dog, showing us all how to connect to our own experience of anxiety by connecting to Teena’s.
Ivan sharing the story of grief at the heart of his family, how he carries a torch in his heart to go out and brighten the lives of others in his community.
Filmed over years, we get to watch each of these very different people navigate the bumps along the road, sometimes with silliness, sometimes with tears – yet always deeply connected and articulate.
In quite a contrast to how men are typically portrayed, here’s a film that matches my experience of being a man, holding space for men and opening up dialogues with men. They can identify their feelings. They can speak from the heart. They just often… don’t.
The stigma is so real, but there’s more to it than the pressure to stay silent.
People put so much focus on opening up, that’s only half the picture.
I think I’m starting to put my finger on why it struck me so hard.
The film reminds me of someone from years ago, not because of anything specifically on screen, but more because of what’s not quite on screen…
As a kid you could have described me as troubled.
In middle school I was in and out of the counselors office.
My father and I had our clashes. I was racked with guilt, shame and hurt that I didn’t know how to label, mad at the entire world for being the way it was. The media, school, employment, psychiatry.
It all looked like a load of shit to me.
If you asked people around me what I was like, you would have gotten very different answers.
Most would have said ‘he’s pretty intense’ or maybe ‘he’s troubled, angsty’.
But depending who you asked, you may have gotten a lot more.
One of my friends for example, would have told you about my sense of humour, my perception, my philosophy and even my wisdom.
Because that’s the version of me he brought out.
He brought someone funny out of me, someone light and open. Who felt like it was ok to be a mess, ok to have all my emotions spilling out of my hands no matter how frantically I tried to put them back where they belong.
I gave my school counselors such a hard time. There was this intense fear they let off. Nobody would address it or acknowledge it.
Or maybe I was projecting, maybe I was more sensitive to this kind of thing because of the kind of childhood I had.
I didn’t want to open up because I’d had too many experiences of someone bursting into tears hearing my story. I couldn’t talk about who I was or process how I got to be this way because it would inevitably lead to me trying to put them back together again! No wonder I was mad…
My friend Pablo never ever made me feel that way.
He wasn’t afraid to be with me. He wasn’t afraid of my hurt at all. He would simply sit there, present. No pretence, no fear, no concern, no worry, just there.
If I was upset and needed to be upset he made it ok.
I have made it my life’s mission to figure out how he did that and try to teach others how they can find that same place within themselves. That centeredness where they can remain present without fears, agendas or mental distractions to genuinely listen.
All this advice out there about ‘talk to someone’, I feel like there needs to be way more advice saying ‘listen to someone’.
Opening up is also about having a safe container of the present moment – something Gen models brilliantly.
That’s what gets me about this film!
Gen has the same aura of my friend from middle school. Socially she’s cut from a similar cloth and she’s been able to film the effect of what happens when you get it right.
Not just in a clinical / psychological setting, not with sterile lighting or institutional decor, but in real life. In lounge rooms and cafes and bedrooms and campsites.
Where the real listening needs to happen, Gen offers you a different lens through which to peer into masculinity.
You get to see a world that many people don’t get to see.
A world where men can cry about their pain.
A world where men hug one another with casual ease.
A world where men articulate their grief.
A world where men hold space for one another.
A world where men are encouraged to find the sweet spot on life’s wave and ride it.
A world where men are allowed and even empowered to be…
Happy.
And Sad.