John Gallagher, Jr. is one of the most underrated and innovative actors out there. He’s been busy on both the stage and the screen, and wearing many proverbial hats as both a musician and a writer as well. From the start of his career, he’s been exploring what it means to be a man in an unforgiving patriarchal world that doesn’t quite allow for individuality and praises staunch rigidity and acceptance of tradition. It’s no shock at all that he won a Tony for playing the conflicted and struggling German teenager Moritz Stiefel in the hit rock musical Spring Awakening. Since then, Gallagher has managed to plumb the depths of humanity and take roles that are exceedingly thought-provoking. Most of his roles are often subtle commentaries on modern masculinity and have a brilliant incisiveness that speaks to the human experience. Gallagher’s proven himself to be much more than a supporting actor, and it’s time to give his performances the proper analysis that they deserve.
Perhaps one of Gallagher’s most insightful and gentle roles is that of Mason in the powerful and haunting Destin Daniel Cretton film Short Term 12. Mason is a man who works at a group home for troubled adolescents and is navigating a long-term relationship with his traumatized co-worker Grace (Brie Larson). To say Mason is gentle is an understatement. There’s fierce tenderness and vulnerability in this role that is uncommon. Most mainstream films still traffic in the idea of macho manliness that portrays any sort of emotional depth as merely character weakness. Mason takes Grace’s post-traumatic stress in stride and meets her halfway with devotion, love, and respect. Even at their lowest moments, he’s there for her and gives her the understanding she deserves. When faced with an unplanned pregnancy, Mason meets the situation with pure joy while Grace is terrified of the prospect and is considering abortion. It’s an interesting take on that sort of storyline due to the man being the one who is overjoyed and the woman having uncertainties. Regardless, Mason stands by Grace and leaves that decision up to her.
Mason doesn’t conform to patriarchal society’s ideals of a man. He’s unrelentingly soft. He cooks and cleans. He’s the one who wants to be a parent. He’s emotionally open, whereas Grace is closed off. Mason is a character that is based in radical kindness and rejection of toxic values. His emotional intelligence is the lynchpin of his person. Empathy flows from him like a well and is never once portrayed as a character weakness; rather, it is shown to be his greatest strength and what makes him an excellent caregiver to the kids and romantic partner to Grace.
Emmett DeWitt from the Dan Trachtenberg horror film 10 Cloverfield Lane resides in the same thematic vein as Mason from Short Term 12. It might seem like a stretch that Mason and Emmett are thematically bonded with one another, but both characters deeply reject traditionally sanctioned masculinity. Emmett is goofy at best, but his heart is his biggest asset. Being stuck in a bunker at the veritable end of the world is a hardship in itself, but he takes it in stride and is a friendly face in contrast to John Goodman’s Howard. Emmett becomes a confidant and support system for the main character Michelle (Mary Elizabeth Winstead). Emmett finds a kindred spirit in Michelle. Both are people whose lives have been tempered by sadness, fear, and inaction. Emmett confides in Michelle that he ruined his own chance at going to college on a track scholarship out of fear.
There’s a lovely camaraderie between Emmett and Michelle in the face of Howard’s tyranny. Emmett himself works as a foil to Howard. Howard is brutish and abrasive. He’s possessive toward Michelle and overall an overbearing individual. Emmett offers his friendship and company freely to Michelle, allowing her some semblance of comfort and a reprieve from Howard. From the start, Emmett is accommodating, cracking jokes to put Michelle at ease. Emmett’s easy rapport with Michelle puts Howard on edge. Both men are diametrically opposed to one another as far as masculinity goes. Emmett, with his sweet country bumpkin ways, exudes a healthy masculinity that is at war with Howard’s overly toxic masculinity. Sadly, Emmett readily gives his life so Michelle can have a chance at escape. His act of sacrifice breaks his chain of inaction, providing a heartbreaking capstone to Emmett’s story. Howard’s toxic masculinity sought to destroy all that Emmett was in order to maintain a semblance of control over Michelle. It is potent commentary on how toxicity will efface goodness when not properly addressed and kept in check.
A natural thread flows from the character of Emmett to Liam Smith in the aquatic horror film Underwater. While Liam’s role isn’t as substantial as that of Emmett’s, he dutifully plays his part as a man that is unencumbered by toxic masculinity. He’s amiable and the female characters are not only at ease around him but they trust him. He’s caring to a fault, which leads to the character being incapacitated for most of the latter half of the movie. He’s pleasant and supportive, especially to Emily (Jessica Henwick). When Emily is in a fit of terror, he attentively talks her down, reassuring her that she can complete the task at hand and will be fine. Notably, his quiet and comforting manner greatly contrasts with the loud grating ways of Paul Abel (TJ Miller). Liam’s character relies on a sort of wholesome, heartening quality that hearkens back to Emmett and Mason greatly.
While not necessarily a member of the Mason/Emmett/Liam thematic thread, Gallagher’s Mike from the James Gunn-penned The Belko Experiment is certainly adjacent to these characters. He’s affable and genial but has a certain playful air. He’s witty, dynamic, and well-liked within the Belko company. Gallagher once again embodies the idea of healthy masculinity in the face of toxic masculinity in this film where his character is thrust into a kill-or-be-killed office-style battle royale. Mike is a pacifist who refuses to create carnage and works diligently to end it. He is in direct opposition to the likes of Barry Norris (Tony Goldwyn). Goldwyn’s Norris is a macho man with a bloated ego and an inflated sense of personal importance. He’s out for himself. Mike spends most of the movie scrabbling to find a solution that will allow people to survive. In the end, he’s pushed too far when his girlfriend and co-worker Leandra (Adria Arjona) is murdered thoughtlessly by Norris. It’s only when faced with Leandra’s death does Mike snap and finally resort to violence. Even when committing acts of violence, Mike takes no pleasure in it. For Mike, at this point, violence is a necessity. Barry Norris, on the other hand, enjoys killing and does so ruthlessly. Mike triumphs over Barry in the end, successfully besting him, but it’s no happy victory. Mike has lost everything.
While The Belko Experiment’s Mike doesn’t revel in violence, Gallagher’s unnamed character in Mike Flanagan’s Hush embraces the nastiness that comes with it. This role stands apart from most of Gallagher’s oeuvre. Typically, Gallagher is exploring shades of healthy masculinity, men that don’t play into societal norms and expectations. The unnamed man in Hush is a violent being that revels in toxicity and bloodshed in a gruesomely gleeful way. The role is a stark departure for Gallagher, but he handles it with ease. What makes this turn even more jarring is that Hush released on Netflix the month after 10 Cloverfield Lane debuted in theatres. Audiences were met with the unnamed man’s violence only weeks after basking in Emmett DeWitt’s warmth.
The Man kills without any remorse and enjoys it. This character is a far cry from Emmett and is set in opposition to Mike’s character completely. He’s drawing out the cat and mouse game he has engaged in with Maddie (Kate Siegel) because he enjoys the hunt. The villainous turn is fascinating because both Gallagher and Flanagan are using the fact that Gallagher is unassuming as a killer. He’s a man of average height and build…not really the spectacular killing machine that one would have in mind. The Man uses this to his advantage as well. When John (Michael Trucco) arrives to check on his girlfriend Sarah (Samantha Sloyan), the Man tricks him. At first, John doesn’t expect the Man to be the assailant, and it’s only after a few moments of the Man’s fumbling does he catch on to the ruse. Many men in real life will use the fact that they seem non-threatening in order to commit heinous crimes and murders. After all, this is truly how serial killers such as Ted Bundy were able to lure in victims. Gallagher’s portrayal of the Man is nothing short of terrifying because it embraces a darker, more toxic side of masculinity. It’s a chilling transformation, and it plays nicely alongside Kate Siegel’s determined heroine.
Gallagher has also taken on roles that don’t sit comfortably at either end of the masculinity spectrum. Most notably are his roles in Desiree Arkhavan’s The Miseducation of Cameron Post and Megan Griffiths’ Sadie. In The Miseducation of Cameron Post, Gallagher plays Reverend Rick, a man who has repressed himself and is continually repressing others like he himself has been repressed. Rick works at a religious-centered conversion therapy center that is run by his sister. He himself has undergone conversion therapy, as well, so that puts Rick in the role of both victim and victimizer. He himself has been emotionally abused and is now actively taking part in emotionally abusing others like him. There’s toxicity there, as well as repression, but it’s very different from the overtly physically violent toxicity of the unnamed man in Hush. He’s continuing a cycle that he has been a part of on both sides. Rick seems to truly feel for the children but can’t allow them to be themselves. Gallagher handles the character with nuance and sensitivity. The audience is both repulsed by him and has pity for him. He’s the product of his society, a culture that treasures cis, white, straight masculinity over any other sort of identity. Fitting into that mold is more important to Rick than the safety and well-being of the children put in his care. He’s a difficult character because he encompasses a painful real-world conundrum. In the end, what Rick partakes in is on par with the violence the man in Hush embodies. It’s just a form of violence that has been sanctioned by society time and time again as people continue to mistreat LGBTQ individuals.
Gallagher’s character in Sadie resides in more of a gray area. He’s affable and charming and manages to capture the heart of Rae (Melanie Lynskey). As the layers of the character are peeled back, he’s less than ideal and flawed. He’s not completely faithful to Rae and even engages in casual sex with Rae’s best frield Carla (Danielle Brooks). While cheating isn’t a crime, Rae has had enough hardships in her life that cheating on her seems like a specifically wretched thing to do. In addition to his cheating, he suffers from drug addiction, which is perhaps one of the more sympathetic facets of his character. He’s certainly no angel, but he’s a far cry from being the unnamed man or Reverend Rick. In fact, he’s likable enough that at the end the viewer is shocked by his murder at the hands of the titular Sadie (Sophia Mitri Schloss). However, he’s nowhere near having the outstandingly gentle and thoughtful nature of characters like Mason and Emmett. A lot of men in reality manage to sit comfortably in this sort of masculinity instead of making the strides to push toward being healthier for themselves and those around them.
John Gallagher, Jr.’s filmography is one of the most varied and impressive out there among younger actors. It can be said for certain that, no matter what role Gallagher takes on, he will make it an interesting and thought-provoking meditation on not only humanity but what it means to be a man. His portrayals have a careful and nuanced quality that mimic real-life people and situations. Regardless of where his characters fall on the spectrum of masculinity — healthy, toxic, or somewhere in between — he treats them with the delicate consideration they deserve. He can either be the man of your dreams or your nightmares, but there will always be a grounded meditation on navigating different types of masculine identity in our society.
