Will it take a zombie apocalypse to fix modern masculinity? The provocative thought occurred to me as I sat in a darkened theater taking in Danny Boyle’s highly anticipated 28 Years Later. This intense, gory, and nudity-laden cinematic flick proved to be much more than a standard post-apocalyptic thriller. Beneath the visceral horror and relentless tension lies a surprisingly heartwarming journey centered on a young boy named Spike, who stubbornly refuses to buy into his community’s stagnant, fearful view of the world. Everyone around him is trapped by fear, deeply incurious, and all too ready to accept convenient, clear falsehoods about their precarious lives. Spike, however, seeks genuine hope, even if it requires him to bravely face the violent, cruel, and potentially fatal real world existing just beyond the safety of his island home.
While keeping major plot spoilers to a minimum, it is impossible to ignore how the story speaks directly to the state of modern masculinity. The film wades deliberately through lost men, toxic lies, and not-so-symbolic alpha males—embodied most memorably in the form of one truly terrifying zombie—delivering a narrative exploration that feels both thoughtful and refreshingly original. Within the context of our current cultural landscape, which frequently struggles to navigate healthy trajectories for boys and men, it is precisely the kind of bold artistic exploration that contemporary society could really use.
This cultural anxiety surrounding the definition and role of men is hardly confined to the silver screen. Just two months ago, Scott Galloway, a prominent professor of marketing at New York University and a media tour de force affectionately known across the digital sphere on his podcast as Prof G, took a seat on the daytime talk show The View. True to form, he used the platform to talk at length about the evolving state of masculinity.
Addressing the studio audience, Galloway offered a perspective that resonated broadly. "I like the idea of restoring an aspirational vision of masculinity," he said to a room that seemed, somewhat surprisingly given the usual contentious nature of cultural debates, in total agreement. "I don’t think there’s anything wrong with leaning into your femininity or masculinity if it feels natural."
In Galloway’s analytical framework, this constructive vision of modern masculinity is built upon three foundational pillars: the provider, the procreator, and the protector.
When elaborating on the role of the provider, Galloway argued that every young man at the outset of his professional career should take fundamental economic responsibility for his household. Sometimes, he noted, that responsibility means stepping aside and getting out of the way of a more successful or ambitious partner, while at other times it requires stepping up to the plate to shoulder the financial burden. Regarding the pillar of procreation, he suggested that society should channel "that fire of desire" in the right ways—ways that ultimately cultivate a better man who is kinder, stronger, and more mindful of how he presents himself, including basics like how he dresses and showering "for God’s sake."
Finally, Galloway emphasized that within an aspirational vision of masculinity, a man’s default operating system should be protection. This definition offers a much more gentle, nuanced, and empathetic pillar than its traditional, aggressive connotations might imply at first glance. "A lot of women don’t feel safe on the subway," he explained, illustrating the everyday realities of urban life, "or they see men walking down the street, they cross the sidewalk." In his view, this lingering apprehension stems directly from men eschewing their fundamental duty as protectors in public spaces. Furthermore, Galloway stressed that this protective instinct is not merely physical. "When you see a group being demonized," he continued, "your default setting as a man is you move to protection."
The parallels between these real-world sociological frameworks and the fictional struggles depicted in cinema are striking. In 28 Years Later, young Spike finds himself chasing this exact blueprint of aspirational masculinity headlong. He steps up as a provider by chasing down the essential healthcare his mother desperately needs that his neglectful father simply ignores. He acts as a protector by shielding her from the relentless onslaught of zombies and safeguarding his own mind from local indoctrination. While he is certainly not chasing procreation given his young age of 12, he actively rejects his father’s philandering, irresponsible example. The fact that Spike navigates these heavy responsibilities within a desolate, post-apocalyptic landscape in many ways brings a harsh clarity to his vision. When all worldly comforts and modern distractions are stripped away, a striking moral clarity naturally arises.
Danny Boyle’s cinematic vision and Prof G’s socio-economic commentary ultimately share a common thread: they are both speaking to the broadest possible public audiences about complex, deeply personal issues that too many men historically reserve for discussions strictly with other men. With 28 Years Later already raking in over $100 million at the box office and The View maintaining its massive, culturally influential daytime viewership, it is remarkably refreshing to see such frank and necessary discussions spilling out into the open public square.
Masculinity is undeniably making a cultural comeback, and after years of silence, misdirection, and polarization, it is finally time to talk about it openly.