A Better Man. Directed by Attiya Khan and Lawrence Jackman. New York: Women Make Movies, 2017. 79 minutes.

Call Me Dad. Directed by Sophie Wiesner. Sydney, Australia: Media Stockade, 2015. 80 minutes.

Intimate Partner Violence (IPV) can certainly be a sticky topic to address in the classroom, but it is a crucial one for examining both the relationships between gender and power and larger missions of social justice theorizing.1 The voices and stories of survivors and victims of IPV are essential for understanding the prevalence of the issue. However, there is a lot to learn about IPV from the side of the perpetrator. Interrogating IPV from the abuser’s perspective, often generalized as the man’s perspective, without context is a difficult task, considering the real harm so many people experience. Yet, although the pain is experienced on the interpersonal level, the problems of intimate partner violence are structural (Hill 2019). Changing systems and structures of oppression will not happen overnight, so while we attempt to combat structural inequities and expand knowledge on intimate partner violence, we also have to address the issue as it manifests on a quotidian scale. This leads to the seemingly perpetual question: how do we change men?

Call Me Dad follows a male support group in Australia, referred to as a Men’s Behaviour Change Program, aimed at challenging men’s abusive ways and inspiring transformations that will help them develop healthy interpersonal relationships.2 The film focuses on a few of the participants and the coordinators of the program, David Nugent and Jacqui Seamark. Throughout the film, the coordinators challenge the men to assess where their anger comes from and attempt to foster more positive ways of approaching their feelings. Their lessons are met with mixed emotions and varying degrees of vulnerable communication amongst the group. The ability to talk openly about internal distresses is a big hurdle for many of the men. One member reflects, “Vulnerability makes me feel small and scared” (31:00). This becomes an important teaching point for the coordinators, as they explain that men’s inability to engage in vulnerable ways produces outcomes where anger and pain emerge. This can lead to unhealthy relationships and, even worse, the potential for destruction. The film reaches an important intersection by asking what is really lost and gained when people become violent. The group decides “what is lost is trust, love, and family” and “what we have created is fear” (35:45). As opposed to addressing these feelings with their partners, some men engage in angry outbursts as a way of hiding their fear and shame. This perpetuates the cyclical experience of intimate partner violence, where every member of the household operates on fear.

Educators could pair Call Me Dad with Jess Hill’s See What You Made Me Do: Power, Control and Domestic Abuse (2019). In particular, the chapter “Patriarchy” could bring forth nuanced conversation on the role of power in IPV relationships. Many of the men in the film felt disempowered by their fear and shame and engaged in violent acts potentially to re-establish control, which students could explore through Hill’s discussion of an “entitlement to power” that could be a precursor of violence. Thus, disengaging this entitlement may be one way in which men can make a positive change.

A Better Man follows codirector Attiya Khan’s conversations about and explorations of the past with her abusive ex-partner, Steve. Together, Attiya and Steve confront conflicting memories, revisit shared spaces, and attempt to bridge the emotional gaps between them to find growth. Much more somber, uncomfortable, and awkward than Call Me Dad, Khan’s film prioritizes the work of healing on both sides of abuse. The film’s slower pace gives credence to the fact that this work is not accomplished quickly, nor is an abuser’s accountability measured simply by restating events. Steve is often perplexed and struggles to put words to his memories of what occurred. Only later, he begins to open up as he realizes his past is not something he can simply block out or recall exactly as it happened. When asked why he agreed to work with Attiya on the film, he reflects on the project as an “opportunity to facilitate some healing, to help that process” and finds that he is healing as well (61:35).

The film closes with an annual celebration of when Attiya left Steve. She feels empowered and speaks to the work that must continue to be done, ending the film by stating, “This is not the end, for us or for others. There’s so much more to say” (73:55). Accountability, healing, and reparative work requires continued effort. The conversation about intimate partner violence is not one that can be reduced to abuser-victim narratives. I think this is what situates this film nicely for the feminist classroom, a place where critical questions can be asked about how people can come together. I would pair this film with bell hooks’s The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love (2004)—in particular the chapters “Stopping Male Violence” and “Healing Male Spirit”—to explore the necessary connections between vulnerability and accountability in IPV relationships. I think this pairing takes a more philosophical, yet grounded, approach to men that moves us past both the courtroom and the statistical representations of IPV and prioritizes human interaction, connection, and empathy.

Although I think these films serve as good jumping off points for discussing violence perpetrated by men, it would be worthwhile to explore how these conversations can be expanded by discussion of race and culture. Multicultural approaches to masculinity and anti-violence efforts, such as selected excerpts from Serie McDougal III’s Black Men’s Studies: Black Manhood and Masculinities in the U.S. Context (2020) or Tal Peretz’s “Engaging Diverse Men: An Intersectional Analysis of Men’s Pathways to Antiviolence Activism” (2017), would certainly show how intersections of identity are present in forming complex relationships of power in domestic partnerships.3 Because the men in both films largely present as white, these readings would help avoid generalizations based on whiteness in connection with masculinity and violence. At the same, these perspectives would provide intersectional theorizing for thinking about men’s role in anti-violence both in the context of the films and more broadly.

Overall, both films have a worthwhile place in the feminist classroom. Although Call Me Dad explores more definitive strategies for men to make changes in their lives, A Better Man prioritizes the reparative work needed to be done. I believe the direct attempt of accountability in hopes of healing provides deeper inquiry into men and the problems of anger and violence. These films pair well together to both assess intimate partner violence from the standpoint of power and see where we may head from here. If we are to critically engage with the question of how we change our men, we must confront the real experiences, perspectives, and challenges associated with intimate partner violence.

1 Although sometimes domestic violence and intimate partner violence can be used interchangeably, domestic violence is any violence that occurs within the household unit, while IPV is between romantic partners. I use IPV to stay consistent with these definitions and with the resources from the films (see, e.g., the “Resources” page for A Better Man and “Find Help” section for Call Me Dad).

2 In Australia, Men’s Behaviour Change Program aims to promote nonabusive behavior while also providing tools for managing feelings of anger, pain, and shame that may produce violent actions. In the United States, this is similar to a batterer’s intervention program.

3 For McDougal’s book, I suggest using material from the introduction, chapter 3 for discussion on blackness, masculinity, and power, and chapter 4 for discussion on intimate partner violence.

James Hoffner is a doctoral student in multicultural women’s and gender studies at Texas Woman’s University. His primary research interests are centered around sexualities, disabilities, and masculinities. James completed his thesis, “Bent, Not Broken: An Autoethnographic Exploration on Male Sexual Dys/function and Shame,” in which he explores the performances of and intersections between the body, sexuality, and masculinity. He previously worked as the Legal Advocacy Coordinator with the YWCA York, assisting victims of domestic violence and sexual assault throughout both civil and criminal legal processes.