Lessons of depression in the most unlikely of films

Who would have guessed that a fantasy comedy featuring the latest piece of Hollywood eye candy (Zac Efron) and geared towards thirteen year-old girls discusses depression, but that is exactly what 17 Again does.

The film opens on an inexplicably shirtless Efron, shooting hoops. He is seventeen years-old and on the verge of achieving his dream of a college scholarship and presumably a life of fame and fulfillment in the NBA. But right before the big game (why is it that in movies college scholarships always hang in the balance of one big game?), he learns that his girlfriend is pregnant. He runs off the court and into a life of domesticity and, as we will soon learn, damning regret.

Fast-forward 20 years: an effervescent Efron has been replaced by an overweight and passively resentful Mathew Perry (the guy from Friends). We discover that Efron/Perry has been sleepwalking through life at the expense of his family and his happiness. His wife is divorcing him, his kids have no connection with him and he is stuck at a dead end job. He can't even finish the hammock project. This is classic depression with all the appropriate symptoms: poor concentration (this is why his job sucks) withdrawal (this is why his wife resents him), poor mood (this is why his teenage children feel alienated from him) etc. etc. When we first see him converse with his wife we gain some insight into the exact type of depression he suffers. He views the spiraling problems all around him with a mixture of surprise and helplessness. A self-fulfilling prophecy seems in the works. Unhappiness, in his mind, seems to be the predictable result of a life unaligned with his basketball goals. His mind is stuck in reverse and is being relentlessly beaten by a life insistant upon moving forward. This specific life attitude is best reflected by a model called hopeless depression, a reformulated and updated version of Martin Seligman's learned helplessness model for depression (remember the dog and the shocks).

Hopeless depression occurs when a negative event (Honey, I'm pregnant...) interacts with what is called a hypothesized depressogenic attributional style - a mental filter through which negative events are viewed as extremely important and attributed to stable and global causes. His subconscious has developed a perpetual chant: "My basketball dream was all that mattered and it died. Now, any new dreams are not only doomed to be less meaningful but doomed to failure as well. Even if things start to look up I'll bet good money that inexplicably cruel life events will swoop in and clean up whatever my stupidity fails to destroy." The result of such a perspective is hopelessness, a view of a world dominated by negative outcomes and aversive experiences that are unpredictable, unavoidable and uncontrollable.

One of the most commonly prescribed treatment models for hopeless depression is outlined in the unfolding plot. Efron/Perry is presented with an opportunity to go back in time in order to create the life he always wanted. He quickly realizes that his dream is not to be an all-star point guard, but an all-star father and husband. What follows are effective and enthusiastic efforts in which he plays therapist to a daughter with a toxic boyfriend, plays cheerleader to a shy and bullied son and plays helper to a neglected and ambitious wife. These events are perfectly in-line with a therapeutic intervention known as behavioral activation. This is an "act first, think/feel later" approach that pushes the client to do behaviors that are pleasurable and consistent with personal values. This approach involves action and differs from many other therapy approaches that attempt to infiltrate the mind - cognitive interventions to reframe thoughts and analytic interventions to uncover hidden motives.

How does Efron/Perry learn to identify the correct depression-extinguishing actions? The formula for this type of film almost always involves a semi-creepy time-travel guide, in this case, a janitor who vaguely resembles Santa Claus. His role helps Efron/Perry in the same way that a therapist might help a patient. Some universal therapeutic lessons that are learned are: a. you must examine your problems with a detached curiosity b. life must be about the journey, not the destination c. you must discover the right path for yourself d. perform reflection (physically manifested as time travel) on how life has been lived.

17 Again delves into deeper issues than Zac Efron's perfect hair and demonstrates that important psychological processes can be at play in the most unexpected of cinematic places.