This film takes a vital look at how boys become men in 2019. It revisits the moments from toddler to teenager—familiar to many boys and their parents—that shape the life of a young man. From the moment he’s told that “boys don’t cry” at an early age, he’s molded to fit an outdated construct of masculinity and to look and act in a way that betrays what he really feels. As the film progresses, we see in tragic detail how a boy with such brilliant potential is emotionally compromised—slowly and deliberately formed to become nothing more than an alpha predator.

“Boys Don’t Cry”

3-minute video

MUSIC: (Violin and strings. Slightly ominous, Low at first but builds throughout.)

We open inside the living room of a home in the early morning. A young woman lovingly cradles her newborn, Max, in her arms. He cries but she comforts him.

MOM: There, there.

We cut to Max as a toddler, happily playing with toy trucks while his mom and dad encourage him.

DAD: You got it? Pick it up with your big, strong muscles and bring it over here to the shop.

We hear a young boy in voiceover.

VO: Boys can be loving.

We cut to Max outside, happily running toward his parents and holding a big pile of leaves.

DAD: Fast, fast, fast, fast!

We cut to Max as an 8-year-old. It’s time to go to school but he’s hesitant. Mom is stern.

MOM: I need you to be brave, okay? Gotta go.

VO: Boys can be shy.

We cut to Max inside a classroom. He quietly examines the pages of a book.

We cut to Max sitting alone against a wall during recess. In the background, we hear other kids happily playing.

VO: Boys can be sad.

At home again, Max sheds a tear at the dinner table. Mom and Dad quickly disapprove.

DAD: Why are you crying?

MOM: Boys don’t cry, okay honey? Be a big boy, please.

He wipes away a tear.

We cut to Max as a 12-year-old. He’s in the school’s changeroom, sheepishly removing his shirt while other boys giggle in the background.

VO: Boys can be self-conscious.

We cut to him in his bedroom at home, struggling to do push ups.

We cut to him playing “7 minutes of heaven” with a girl he likes. They’re trapped in a closet but he’s too shy to make a move. She leans over and gently pecks him on the cheek.

We cut to Max at school again. He’s just finished presenting a science fair project about volcanoes in front of his classmates. They applaud, and he smiles.

VO: Boys can be intelligent.

As he exits the school, proudly holding his bulky volcano project, a bully runs up and smacks it down. The project tumbles and smashes against the floor. “Loser,” shouts the bully.

Back at home, shirtless, Max stares at his skinny frame in front of a mirror.

In the living room of the family home, Max quietly reads as his parents argue fight in the kitchen. Their intensity is terrifying. Mom throws a glass against the wall and it shatters. Fuming, dad sits on the couch next to Max. No words are exchanged but Max watches his dad’s hand as it slowly clenches.

VO: But boys can’t be afraid.

The next day, we see Max exit the school and stride toward the bully in the school yard. He knocks the bully to the ground and pummels him. When he stops, it’s only to deliver a final, vicious blow.

VO: Boys can’t be gentle.

We cut to Max and his dad inside the school principal’s office. Dad does all the talking.

DAD: I don’t understand what the big deal is. Isn’t this just boys being boys?

Max cries in the car on the way home. Dad has nothing comforting or consoling to say. Just a sigh of disgust.

We cut to Max as a 16-year-old. He’s bigger now, tougher. His face betrays little emotion. He does push ups in his bedroom like he once did—only now, quite simply.

VO: But boys can’t be weak.

In the boy’s changeroom, Max takes off his shirt. We see how muscular he has become. There is no more shame. No more giggles.

In the schoolyard at night, Max and his friends are hanging out. They race each other and mess around in the rough and tumble way that young men do.

VO: Boys can’t be timid.

In the school hallway, Max locks eyes with a girl—but she’s talking to someone else. She quickly becomes uncomfortable and Max looks away. Beneath his toughened exterior, we can tell he’s hurt.

In his bedroom that night, he carefully writes the word “slut” on his phone and positions it over a picture of the girl from the hallway. It’s a social post he’ll soon share.

At the schoolyard at night. Max is hanging with friends. He and another boy wrestle and tumble but Max is clearly the stronger of the two.

MAX: Haven’t you learned already? You can’t take me!

We cut to a house party. Max and his friends are there, watching and waiting as a young girl becomes more and more intoxicated. They exchange a knowing glance. His friends know what Max is about to do.

VO: Boys can’t look soft.

We see Max leading the inebriated girl up the staircase. She can hardly stand.

VO: Boys can’t be powerless.

Max leads the girl into a darkened bedroom and slowly, menacingly, shuts the door.

VO: Because boys don’t cry.

SUPER: Boys will be boys.

SUPER: Or they can be so much more.

SUPER: Help us promote a healthier, more positive masculinity.

LOGO: White Ribbon

SUPER: www.whiteribbon.ca

SUPER: With generous support from DSW