Louis Theroux’s Manosphere documentary is more terrifying than Adolescence
Louis Theroux’s Manosphere documentary is more terrifying than Adolescence
Last night, after getting my energetic children to bed, I settled in to watch Netflix’s Louis Theroux: Inside the Manosphere. The documentary’s subject matter resonated deeply with my sons, aged 8 and 10, yet the viewing experience was far from family-friendly. Swearing, prejudice, and displays of cruelty punctuated the film, making it a stark contrast to the calm bedtime atmosphere.
Within the first minute, I was met with declarations such as, “A man who’s not dangerous will never be seen as successful. You can’t be a little b***h,” and “Men against women. It’s an attack on masculinity.” One man even boasted, “If your b***h is going to a club when you said no, destroy her f***ing life.” These statements left an immediate impression, foreshadowing the disturbing realities the documentary would later unpack.
“A man who’s not dangerous will never be seen as successful. You can’t be a little b***h.”
“Men against women. It’s an attack on masculinity.”
“If your b***h is going to a club when you said no, destroy her f***ing life.”
By the time the film reached its midpoint, I was left feeling more unsettled than before. The portrayal of toxic masculinity felt increasingly invasive, threatening to seep into the lives of my sons as they navigate the digital world. This concern grew sharper when I reflected on how easily these ideas could become ingrained in their young minds.
Earlier this year, I had watched Adolescence with a sense of relief, convincing myself its narrative of a radicalized teenager stabbing a classmate was fiction. But the misogynists in Inside the Manosphere—including Harrison Sullivan (HSTikkyTokky), Myron Gaines, and Nicolas Kenn De Balinthazy (Sneako)—felt alarmingly real. Their charisma and online presence made them far more dangerous than the fictional antagonist in the previous documentary.
Theroux, a father of three sons himself, served as an ideal guide through this insidious movement. His approach often involves stepping back, allowing the subjects to reveal their extremism without interruption. This contrast was striking against the fiery, unfiltered rhetoric of the men he interviewed.
Their views were chilling: reducing women to their physical attributes, dismissing them as liabilities, and weaponizing conspiracy theories against marginalized groups. One speaker even asserted that a woman’s worth hinged on her “vagina and titties,” while another lamented that a girl’s weight made her an embarrassment. These attitudes, delivered with casual conviction, were hard to ignore.
Despite these moments of clarity, the documentary’s tone was largely bleak. It painted a picture of a world where men wield power through disdain, and where wealth and status are tied to the subjugation of others. The influence of these figures is palpable, especially for impressionable young boys who see them as role models.
Harrison Sullivan, in particular, stood out. He occasionally showed introspection, admitting his mother would “slap him if she heard him” and acknowledging the hatefulness of his ideology. Yet he rationalized his behavior, claiming that his success depended on his ability to make money through such beliefs.
The absence of Andrew Tate, the self-proclaimed “misanthrope-in-chief,” was notable. Though I live in Bucharest, Romania, friends have spotted him driving around in his sports cars, a symbol of his lavish lifestyle. Whether in person or on screen, these influencers are expanding their reach, challenging the values I aim to instill in my children.
Young men are drawn to the superficial allure of material wealth—sleek villas, flashy cars, and endless parties with attractive companions. These chauvinists often mask their harmful views with a “cheeky chappie” charm, similar to the YouTubers my sons admire, like MrBeast and Ali-A. This blend of entertainment and ideology makes their message all the more insidious.
While I try to curate content free of hate speech and offensive language, the task is growing harder. Even family-friendly videos sell a vibe my sons eagerly emulate, a trend that worries me as it hints at a dangerous trajectory. I want them to respect women, reject bigotry, and value hard work, but how do I combat the cultural caché these figures have already built?
As the documentary concluded, I was left with a lingering sense of dread. The manosphere’s influence is no longer confined to niche corners of the internet—it’s creeping into the everyday lives of my sons, a reality I now must confront head-on.