‘I couldn’t tell my parents I loved them’: Documentary maker Duncan Cowles on giving a voice to silent men

Ssilence is worth its weight in gold – at least when it comes to men. The ‘strong, silent type’ remains an ambitious archetype, whether you are a man yourself or just someone who hangs out with him or her. In popular fiction, Jack Reacher’s action novels have sold approximately 100 million copies. The great man’s catchphrase, tellingly, is not a sentence at all, but rather an anti-sentence: “Reacher said nothing.” In the film, one of the ultimate images of machismo is Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator: leather jacket, motorcycle and, famously, only 17 lines of dialogue in the entire first film. And on the frillier end of cultural representations of men, people like Heathcliff in Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights depend more on their ability to smolder a lady into a crisp with one look than on their emotional articulation.

It may work in fiction, but in reality the “boys don’t cry” approach can be dangerous if it leads to men bottling things up or trying to bear their worries alone. Suicide is still the biggest cause of death among men under 50 in Britain, with men accounting for around three-quarters of suicide deaths.

Also disturbing in its own way is a study referenced in a new documentary Silent Men, which found that when a group of babies were randomly covered with pink and blue blankets, the babies given a blue blanket were picked up or touched less than the babies who received a blue blanket. with a pink blanket. The unconscious attitude of the participating caregivers was that boys need less comfort.

“It’s a very simple example, but it was really heartbreaking,” says Silent Men director Duncan Cowles. “It just shows that society is going to treat you a little differently from the start if you’re a man or a woman.”

Silent Men is Cowles’ first feature documentary, following a series of award-winning short films and the docuseries Scary Adult Things. He has been compared to Louis Theroux because of his sympathetic, understated observational style and the fact that his films, no matter how serious their subject matter, appear frivolous. About Silent Men, he says, “I didn’t want this to be a serious, grim mental health movie, you know? That was actually my concern about the title. I thought, ‘Silent men, is that a bit rude?’ The original title of the film was Scottish Silent Blokes.”

But the focus soon expanded from Scotland to the rest of Britain. There he met and interviewed a number of men, all of whom struggle with vulnerability in one way or another. John tells Cowles how his decision to hide a health crisis from his own family led to suicidal thoughts and divorce. Ainslie struggled with expressing his own feelings in the aftermath of the birth. And Larry is determined to take Cowles to a weekend retreat where men will be encouraged to open up.

The film took a while to complete – Cowles started it when he was 26 and is now 34 – and in its final form is a gently compelling mix of interviews, scenes of Cowles’ own attempts to become more emotionally open, and soothing images of bumblebees. and flowers captured in slow motion. There’s a play with documentary form throughout: Cowles feels like you might want a timeout halfway through, so a talking head pauses mid-sentence. It may touch on some dark topics, but it’s not a punishing look.

That’s completely intentional. “I don’t think enough documentaries use humor properly, and people shy away from it because they think (men’s mental health) is a serious subject. That’s how it should be. It’s something that’s serious. But it’s hard to get people to watch independent documentaries, so I really wanted to find that balance between humor and a very serious subject matter, which will hopefully make it a more accessible film.”

That approach may be where the comparisons to Louis Theroux come from, but where Theroux delves into white supremacist communities and interviews with Jimmy Savile, the Cowles approach – so far – seems to be more about strolling around pubs and talking to regular guys . Is that fair? “Yes. Duncan Cowles’ Super Mundane Weekends, that could be my next pitch. Actually, someone said the other day, ‘Oh, you should make a documentary about Louis Theroux, that would be funny.’ But I don’t know if he would necessarily want that.’

Cowles’ influences are not limited to Theroux; he also cites documentary filmmaker Nick Broomfield, reality-meets-fiction-blurring comedian Nathan Fielder, and absurdist Swedish author Roy Andersson as points of reference. “Although Roy Andersson’s work is fiction, I love the way he exaggerates the everyday. And there is a real gloom. It’s super depressing sometimes, but also very funny.’

That dichotomy is beautifully expressed in Silent Men, particularly in a key scene that is part of Cowles’ journey in the film, in which he tries to tell his own parents that he loves them. Part of the point of his quest, which is part therapy and part road trip, is that he hopes he can actually sit down and say “I love you” to his mom and dad. He does this while filming them and recording his own reaction with another camera.

For some families, the scene is likely bewildering. How is it possible that this man never said “I love you” to his parents? How is it possible they never told him? But it will be all too recognizable for large parts of Britain, where familial love is assumed but rarely spoken out loud. In his father’s reaction you can see why the emphasis here is on men’s problems with expressing emotions. Cowles senior has an instinct, which seems more and more like a compulsion the longer the scene plays out, to undermine the moment, to distract, to avoid, to make jokes.

When Cowles Jr. finally spits it out and says he loves them, anyone who has seen reality TV or Hollywood movies will expect the parents to say it back to him. Their response is mild acceptance, but they don’t explicitly return the sentiment, and watching the moment when that rhythm of storytelling would usually arrive is somewhat disorienting. It’s something that also caused some tension for Cowles, who says he meant it as a happy moment because he completed his quest and said those difficult words. He was surprised when he noticed that the audience experienced it differently and felt sorry for him.

“I was a little annoyed!” He laughs. “I wanted people to see it the same way I did, but now I understand what they mean. You can see the disappointment on my face, so I’m not really hiding it. It’s a funny one: they’re a bit clumsy, and then they go and make a cup of tea and life goes back to normal and no one talks about it anymore. But I think there’s more truth in that than what you see on reality TV and stuff. Reality is the exact opposite of reality TV. It shouldn’t be called reality TV at all.”

This is part of why the film, as modest as it is, is so resonant as a piece about mental health. There’s no attempt to say that if you’re struggling, having one conversation will be transformative. But what it does do is emphasize the importance of taking the first step and talking to someone. “There is no one set thing. It’s not, ‘Go cry and listen to some music and it will be solved.’ Those kinds of things can be a coping mechanism, but they are not solutions. It’s a matter of gradually adjusting your life and trying to improve it in different ways.

That journey will look different for different people and, as Cowles says, it’s not about completely reinventing your personality. In the sequel, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, Arnie is no longer a silent killing machine. He’s still a killing machine, but he’s friendlier and more communicative. He has been reprogrammed and begins to learn human emotions. As he puts it: “I know now why you’re crying.” Slowly but surely, the silent men, or at least some of them, are on a similar trajectory.

Silent Men can now be seen in cinemas November 19 for International Men’s Day.

In Great Britain and Ireland it is Samaritans You can contact the freephone number 116 123, or email jo@samaritans.org or jo@samaritans.ie In the US you can call or text National Suicide Prevention Lifeline on 988, chat on 988lifeline.orgor text HOME to 741741 to contact a crisis advisor. In Australia the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international helplines can be found at friendsers.org