Monday, September 1, 2025

Chris Coats | Good Boy / 2015

everything’s going to be okay

by Douglas Messerli

 

Chris Coats (screenwriter and director) Good Boy / 2015 [15 minutes]

 

US director Chris Coats graduated from the University of California, Santa Barbara before joining up with the production company originally headed by actor Heath Ledger and Matt Amato, The Masses. In 2015 he made the troubling and moving film about toxic masculinity, Good Boy.

     Macon (Frank Martinelli) and his father Scott (Cliff Weissman) have just driven in from Flagstaff to the Yucca Desert to celebrate Macon’s boyhood friend Caleb’s (Nicholas Tucci) return home from the military. As they come to a stop at house, Macon is still having evident nightmares about a day long ago which becomes the central motif in Coats’ film. Evidently, the high school boys Macon and Caleb were out in the desert, dressed in mock army fatigues, to engage in a paintball battle, joined by Caleb’s younger brother Eli (Jance Enslin) and his friend Quinn (Eric Unger), both of whom seem far less interested in the battlefield game than in each other.

      As Macon awakens, his father reassures him that they will only stay a couple of hours, reminding him that Caleb was his closet friend.


      The “party” doesn’t go well. Caleb has returned home, having evidently been through several near-death situations, surly and angry, later admitting to Macon that he did not want to come back home. The older folks spend most of their time at the reunion playing poker, with little communication with the returned veteran.

       Besides Caleb has stalked off the backyard, his sister Kel (Toni Christopher) asking Macon if he could go talk with him since he’s clearly “in a mood.” Their conversation set against the desert backdrop and their attempt to play darts is not truly fulfilling to either of them, as Caleb—desperate for some weed—recounts past times such as the night when seeking out pot they encountered a mean man working Macon’s father, and ended up drinking a whole bottle of cough syrup as a substitution drug, returning home scared and sick, only to observe Eli sitting on the front porch with a whole bag of marijuana.

       Even the mention of the boy’s name further halts any possible communication, as we observe, once again Macon’s visual memories. In this scene as the two older boys, dressed as soldiers, survey the land they’re about to “conquer,” they notice Eli with his friend sitting beside a huge culvert drain talking and a moment later kissing, and kissing again. Clearly these boys are not of the same masculine mind set on symbolic acts of violence as are the older two boys.



       Caleb confronts his brother, and the two fight, Eli storming off after slugging Caleb, his friend disappearing in the violent confrontation.

        Back at the reunion, Caleb finally comes back inside to confront his father and the others for keeping all the junk of his childhood, including maintaining Eli’s room exactly as it was the day he disappeared, never to return home. The sister has followed up leads, she tells Macon, even traveling the year before, 15 years after Eli’s disappearance, to Oklahoma based on a lead.


       As Scott calls out that it’s time for them to leave, Macon joins Caleb in Eli’s old room as the soldier recounts his memory of a maneuver in which it appeared that death was upon him. The old wives’ tale about recalling all the major moments of one’s own life isn’t true, he argues, since all he could conjure up were scenes from his brother’s life. And suddenly he saw the boy, in Hawaii perhaps, having breakfast with his boyfriend, without ever knowing that his older brother Caleb had now died.

       Tears stream down his eyes at the very same moment when the final moments of the childhood paintbrush battle are played out in Macon’s mind. We see Eli continuing on his way home after striking Caleb, Macon now riding his bicycle past him. In anger for his participation in the bullying, Eli picks up a rock, lobbing it at the bicyclist and momentarily knocking him off the bike. Macon recovers, picks up the rock, and moves to Eli, hitting him hard on the head with the rock again and again.

       As Caleb recounts his sad tale about his lost brother, he suddenly realizes that Macon is also in tears as they well up in his eyes and stream down his cheek. Macon stands, called again by his father, to leave, Caleb looking strangely at him and momentarily following him out into the hall with a strange look of sudden perception on his face.


       In the truck again, Macon begins a sentence, “Why did you….” which his father immediately interrupts, repeating what he must have dozens of times throughout the years: “Listen to me. You’d of regretted it Macon, you would. Our life would be gone. You’re a good man, Macon. You made a mistake, but you’re good man. I need you to believe me. I need to hear it when I say it.”

      The pound of a percussive instrument in Rebecca Calinsky’s effective score clicks and bangs as the father repeats these words—the delusions of all violent murderers who excuse their actions through the notion of protecting their own heteronormative values. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

       Obviously, for neither Caleb or Macon, things are not okay. Their lives have been emptied in the absence of Eli from the young love and non-violent values he daily reminds them of, emotions these men appear to be unable to find in their own lives.

      Coats’ short film is a powerful testament to how homophobic violence—perhaps violence of any kind—forever alters the lives of not just the abused but any abuser with a conscience equally.

      The director himself observes of his film: “It was my intent to create this intensely masculine environment in order to show just how fragile that masculinity can be. It’s a mask that men are made to wear and act upon, repressing other aspects that they consider weak but which in reality, make a person whole. When that mask eventually falls away, what’s underneath is angry, frightened, and underdeveloped like an animal, blind because it’s lived in the dark its whole life, having never been exposed to the light.”

 

Los Angeles, June 15, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (June 2023).

 

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