Molly’s Game, the 2017 biographical drama film about an elite underground poker game, begins and ends retrospectively with Molly Bloom (Jessica Chastain) severely injuring herself while skiing during the 2002 Olympic qualifying events. Her father (Kevin Costner) — a clinical psychologist who subscribes heavily to patriarchal worldviews such as the long-since debunked theories of Freud, that the father is the sole rule-maker in the family, and that toughing it out is the only way to overcome “weakness” — instilled in Molly early on that her worth is reliant on her physical prowess as a skier and her resiliency in the face of exhaustion, injuries abound, and emotional distress. After wiping out, Molly picks herself up off the ground, refusing the help and care of medical professionals before bravely walking off into the distance. But this shouldn’t feel like some act of monumental bravery or strength or fortitude. Her face is covered in blood, she’s limping, her dreams have been shattered, and she’s been brutally ripped away from one of the only things that has led her father to treat her as being worthwhile. Why should we ever consider the devaluation of care or healing as a satisfying ending?
The first two thirds of the film sets up the importance of the practice of care. Molly cares for the people playing at her poker games — lending an ear when needed, giving advice and suggesting when to call it quits on the night, and even going so far as to work with the people who owe her money to determine peacefully the best way for them to pay it back. Her mother (Claire Rankin) mortgages her house to help Molly pay for bail and her lawyer (Idris Elba) chooses to defend her pro bono. In a world that is often as cruel and as full of unkind people as in “The Crucible”, during the McCarthy era, or in the excessively intimidating raids by the FBI, to actively commit to caring for the well-being of others is a monumental act.
Unfortunately, unlike Molly, the ending of the film does not stick the landing. Molly’s Game starts to lose its footing on the ice of a New York City skating rink. After her lawyer, Charlie Jaffey, gives a heartfelt and passionate defense of her character and actions to the case prosecutors, she trades her $800 leather Chanel gloves for a pair of size seven skates to push through the oncoming storm of emotions. The level of genuine care and understanding shown for Molly’s legal well-being is paralleled only by Molly’s otherwise unreciprocated regard for others, although this thematic emphasis on care is quickly unraveled by the appearance of her father.
Her father’s lack of care toward her mother in cheating on her causes Molly undue emotional distress and the lack of emphasis on the value of care when young Molly gets tired or injured while skiing traumatizes her. If she is tired after a day of skiing and wants to go home, she is prompted by her father to equate this with being weak. If she is injured while skiing and doctors suggest that she shouldn’t ever ski again, she needs to keep skiing. If she gets beaten up by armed home invaders, she shouldn’t tell anyone about it. If she is offered a deal to save her from prison, she cannot accept because it would ruin her good name.
What’s meant to be a moment of catharsis and ultimately of healing falls flat as we are expected to believe that the same things responsible for Molly’s trauma will get her through tough times now. Instead of confronting the longstanding pain of having a cheating dad that summarily dismisses her thoughts and feelings and ascribes her worth solely to her ability to ski, her father tries to recenter the focus on himself. He suggests that she chose to run poker games because she enjoys controlling powerful men, that her success is a result of his parenting skills, that he only appeared to not love her as much as her brothers because he knew she was aware of his cheating, and that because he loves her so much, he’ll hire someone to kill the people who broke into her apartment and beat her. The film largely misses out on understanding the importance of perspectives centered around care, recovery, and healing.
In pleading guilty, Molly re-engages with her trauma and commits what can only be seen as an act of self-hatred. She has already sacrificed so much for and been robbed by these men, who should know better and be better. She doesn’t owe it to them to cover for their misbehaviors and certainly not after years of acting in their best interests when they refused to do so for themselves. While the charges against her are inevitably dismissed by the good-hearted judge presiding over the hearing as only Hollywood could portray, Molly’s Game fundamentally misunderstands that by pleading guilty Molly continues the cycle of devaluing her own inherent self-worth. Toughing it out has only ever harmed her and the practice of care should not only extend to others, but to herself as well.
While it is based on a true story, Molly’s Game still unfortunately commits one of the worst sins a film can — undermining its own central thematic premise. To care for others, for others to care for you, and for you to care for yourself all are valuable things and we, as viewers, as storytellers, and as people, would be wise to remember this.
