Apple TV+’s Stick: A Deep Dive into Left-Coded Mental Health Narratives
If Apple TV+’s new series Stick were any more affirming of left-coded mental-health assumptions, we’d have to watch it on the American Psychiatric Association’s TV channel. Stick is crafted for therapy enthusiasts, trauma-mongers, and those who require trigger warnings on their trigger warnings.
The Protagonist: Pryce Cahill
The show stars a breathy Owen Wilson as Pryce Cahill, a former PGA professional who left the sport after a “psychotic break” on a challenging par 4. Now a pro-shop salesman navigating a divorce, Pryce oscillates between upselling weekend golfers and munching on Lucky Charms straight from the box. His relationship with golf is complex; he describes a golf course as a “cathedral,” yet his god is both capricious and hard to ignore. One moment, he’s ready to abandon the sport entirely, and the next, he’s mentoring a promising young golfer, embodying the role of trainer, coach, and fixer.
Introducing Santi Wheeler
The young golfer in question is Santi Wheeler, portrayed by Peter Dager, a newcomer whose looks are as forgettable as an AI-generated face. Santi, like many under-20 protagonists today, is immensely talented yet emotionally fragile. When we first meet him, he’s hitting golf balls with remarkable precision, a skill that should inspire joy. However, he grapples with the shadow of his father, who also loved the game but was unkind, nearly driving Santi to abandon his passion.
The Narrative’s Ideological Underpinnings
This narrative style is so prevalent in contemporary Hollywood that it barely registers as ideological. The prevailing wisdom suggests that if golf makes Santi unhappy, it doesn’t matter if it could also lead to fame and fortune. This line of thinking is problematic; in reality, a young man with Santi’s talent would likely channel his struggles into motivation, a trait often seen in those who rise from challenging backgrounds.
The Wellness Left’s Influence
As Stick unfolds, it becomes evident that the writers are deeply invested in exploring the characters’ mental health journeys. The show is rife with discussions about “boundaries,” “mental-health timeouts,” and other buzzwords from the Wellness Left. Pryce, haunted by the loss of his son, is encouraged to “process” his grief, while Santi’s girlfriend critiques “grind-culture rhetoric” and “late-stage capitalism.” These conversations, while reflective of current societal trends, often lack humor and authenticity, leaving viewers questioning their relevance.
A Lack of Authenticity
The show’s reliance on therapeutic jargon feels almost like a commercial for professional counseling, devoid of genuine depth or humor. The characters’ discussions about mental health don’t advance the plot or provide comedic relief; instead, they serve as a form of wish fulfillment for a specific audience. A scene in the fourth episode, where characters share their pronouns, exemplifies this trend. It’s not funny or plot-driven; it’s merely a reflection of a world where progressive ideals reign unchallenged.
Cultural Context and Timing
The political landscape surrounding Stick feels disjointed from reality. Filmed before the 2024 election and released afterward, the show seems out of touch with the cultural moment, as wokeness was a significant topic during the election. The series feels like it was crafted for a different time, leaving it stranded in a cultural limbo.
Familiar Tropes and Predictability
If Stick were more innovative, its outdated ideas might be forgivable. However, the series leans heavily on familiar tropes. Like Ted Lasso, it puts its lead character through emotional turmoil to create drama. The obligatory training montage, complete with pop music, feels recycled, and even Santi’s “teeing-off” sound effect echoes Happy Gilmore, a far superior golf film. The show lacks originality, making it feel hollow.
Owen Wilson’s Performance
Owen Wilson’s portrayal of Pryce is marked by a cloying optimism that quickly becomes tiresome. While he has his charm, his performance lacks the depth and variety that would engage viewers. Instead, Stick serves as a cautionary tale for creators who wish to immerse audiences in a progressive narrative. While the era of overt wokeness may be waning, a lackluster “trauma-dy” can still face cancellation.
In summary, Stick presents a complex interplay of mental health narratives, societal expectations, and familiar storytelling tropes. Its exploration of these themes, while timely, raises questions about authenticity and originality in contemporary television.
