Feel-Good Golf Comedy Is Stuck on Trauma

Apple TV+ has introduced us to its latest feel-good series, Stick, starring Owen Wilson as Pryce "Stick" Cahill, a once-promising golf pro now facing a rather challenging life. The show sets a nostalgic tone reminiscent of classic sports narratives, filled with bright aesthetics and dazzling landscapes of lush golf courses. It invites viewers into the world of golf while exploring deeper themes of trauma and redemption.

At its core, Stick is visually appealing, with saturated colors and a vibrant atmosphere that evokes the exhilaration of golf. Wilson’s charm brings forth an initial sense of optimism, even within the turmoil of his character’s life. The premise follows Stick’s journey as he tries to resurrect his faltering career after a dramatic fall from grace—an emotional ride that mirrors many contemporary tales in entertainment today.

However, like much of today’s television landscape, Stick is rooted in trauma. The character’s struggles are far from mere inconveniences; they stem from a troubled past that significantly impacts his present. Television today seems inundated with trauma narratives, where every character’s history includes some form of emotional baggage. This structure, while authentic, can make the viewing experience feel somewhat formulaic and predictable.

For a show meant to uplift, it’s jarring to realize that Stick veers into heavy emotional territory early on. This initial narrative includes Stick’s failed marriage, his career-ending meltdown during a tournament, and his descent into selling overpriced golf equipment—a far cry from the triumphant hero arcs commonly celebrated in sports shows.

The storyline introduces Santi Wheeler, a 17-year-old golf prodigy, whose raw talent and unresolved anger catch Stick’s eye. Here lies a juxtaposition of two broken souls seeking redemption through their love for the sport. However, rather than simply showcase golf as a means of healing, the show insists on detailing the emotional scars that make these characters who they are. In this way, Stick doesn’t just explore golf—it explores the mental games and personal battles that occur off the course.

The first episode adeptly sets the stage for this interaction, revealing the struggles faced by both Stick and Santi. In their quest for success, they also embark on a journey of self-discovery. However, while the foundation of trauma isn’t unwarranted, it can detract from the otherwise light-hearted premise of a feel-good sports comedy. As Stick’s story unfolds, what begins as a hopeful endeavor becomes steeped in a narrative of loss and regret, which might feel disheartening for viewers looking purely for uplifting content.

The storytelling relies heavily on a straightforward approach to trauma: identifying Stick’s past—a son lost, a divorce that shattered his life—and equating these events directly to his current situation. The emotional depth can be engaging, but it risks overshadowing the comedy and joy that ought to prevail in a show like this. Viewers are reminded of pain almost incessantly, which slows down the momentum and could frustrate those rooting for triumph over tragedy.

Each advancement in the plot seems constantly hindered by the weight of past mistakes. The narrative style, while sincere, becomes a crutch; moments of potential joy are diluted by reminders of previous faults and failings. Although character development is important, relying too heavily on trauma can detract from the light-hearted enjoyment the series aims to evoke.

As supporting characters join Stick and Santi on their journey, including Mitts (played by Marc Maron) and Santi’s mother Elena (Mariana Treviño), the show attempts to balance the darker themes with humor and camaraderie. The dynamic creates a rich environment for character growth, yet still, the shadow of trauma looms large. Even with added comedic elements, the foundation of the story feels heavy and complex, a fusion of now and then, which might not resonate with audiences seeking a straightforward journey towards victory.

Stick heavily invokes the golf metaphor: a game played not only physically but mentally. As such, Stick finds that healing requires not only skill and teamwork but also confronting unresolved issues. The storytelling lends a sympathetic hand to those who understand that personal struggles often correlate with broader life challenges—a reflection many can identify with.

In conclusion, Apple TV+’s Stick attempts to strike a balance between humor and depth, but it often falls into the trap of overemphasizing trauma at the expense of its comedic elements. While it’s a show that exudes charm and visual appeal, the overarching themes of grief and struggle can become burdensome. Audiences may find themselves longing for relief from the weight of emotional storytelling and simply wanting to celebrate the joy of golf without the lingering reminder of past trauma. Ultimately, this series highlights the ongoing cultural discussion of how trauma and resilience intersect, leaving viewers questioning whether they are here for the laughs or the lessons in loss.

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