Read the full review on socialworker.com

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

     A Real Pain is essential film for those in the social work and related professions to experience and to recommend, brilliantly written and directed by Jesse Eisenberg, and starring Eisenberg and Kieran Culkin. With uncommon insight, A Real Pain gently addresses myriad examples of intergenerational trauma that run the gamut from a lack of self-respect to self-loathing, leading to an inability to connect with others and the devastation of failed relationships. It offers the opportunity to address questions we as social workers are asked again and again: Why am I hated? Why do “they” want to kill us?

     Social workers know that burying our pain, pushing it toward oblivion, is a major cause of failure in all aspects of life. A Real Pain reveals the cost of personal isolation and the importance of connection. We learn that even if the intensity of connection between two who love and trust may seem frightening and overwhelming, refusing to walk away leads to mutual compassion and broader insights and vision that uplift in remarkable ways. The film also affirms that, with unshakable hope, we can endure what is necessary, leading to inner strength.  

     Through these messages, A Real Pain begs the question: Why are we so afraid to face difficult emotions? For once we do, we can decide if, when, and how to share with others. When we decide to wisely share, the experience itself is the highlight. This process of deep, respectful listening, coupled with doing all possible to rid ourselves of bias, can lead to closeness and calm, allowing the give and take of problem solving. Compromise then becomes an act of love, not submission.

     Billed as a two-for-the-road dramedy, your laughter will draw you closer to serious examination of the inner worlds and outer manifestations of two cousins, raised more as brothers, who have lost touch with each other. Benji Kaplan (Culkin), is devoid of any semblance of boundary between his Self and events in the real world. His breathtaking, passionate, emotionally crippling insights have put his direction at a standstill. David Kaplan (Eisenberg) is a devoted husband and father who cannot access emotion. He is tied to a NYC tech job that offers little satisfaction and suffers from an anxiety disorder and OCD.  

With gratitude to Dr. Bettie Bassett-Roundtree, social work mentor and inspiration.

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

As we approached Thanksgiving and the holiday season, many—perhaps most—in our proud, historic profession struggled with the toll of societal burnout, the simmering anger and divisions in our country, our world, also reflected within our profession. My sadness was intensified by the imminent death of an extraordinary mentor and irreplaceable friend, Dr. Bettie Bassett-Roundtree, who entered my life when I transferred to the University of Pennsylvania School of Social Work (now the School of Social Policy and Practice). In all academic and supervisory contacts, Dr. Bassett-Roundtree’s underlying message was hand in glove with the moral insights of our profession: all human beings long for love, opportunity to meet basic needs, freedom of expression. All of humanity have far more in common than what divides us, and personal developmental opportunities determine our ability to grow to maturity and create and protect institutions devoted to this process.  

     I entered the movie theater on the Tuesday evening before Thanksgiving, never expecting part one of the film Wicked (part two is expected in a year) to offer the truths and depth reflected in the 2003 Broadway production. But I was wrong, very wrong. The message of this extraordinary film not only mirrors the truths seen on stage. It illuminates the foundation of social work principles—the insights, awareness, and direction the social work relationship can offer those we are privileged to work with, whatever our concentration.

     The evolution of the books, stage, and film expressions of The Wizard of Oz is long and complex, but as capsule comment, most know the Dorothy (Judy Garland) 1939 rendition, adapted from the 1900 children’s novel, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum. The film’s (and Baum’s) golden messages: to succeed in life, you must follow the path (the yellow brick road) to intelligence (the Scarecrow), guts (the Lion), and heart (the Tin Man). Wicked witches can and must be destroyed, and above all, there’s no place like home.

     While the classic The Wizard of Oz is mesmerizing, it is also simplistic, skirting cruel, destructive realities. Many homes are not safe, they are tortuous; those who express hate have known its poison in formative years; sociopaths who rise to power yearn to destroy freedoms and dominate all societal attempts to provide them. Further, there is no one true “yellow brick road” to follow. We are each unique. Our individual “emotional sense of direction” helps us move toward fulfillment, learning from and strengthened by inevitable jolts that lead to altered paths.

     Enter the musical Wicked (2003), based on Gregory Maguire’s 1995 novel, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. Dorothy and illusion are gone, replaced by reality. The supposedly wicked witch is an innocent, rejected, tormented child, now scapegoated as evil by those who fear her moral force and vision. We see there are those who paint themselves as loving, who are anything but. We see that life is not only unfair; it can be ruthlessly unjust.

     Directed by John M. Chu, known for his full scale, over-the-top films where talent thrives (Crazy Rich Asians and In the Heights), Chu does not disappoint in his rendering of truth. His ensemble casting is seamless. The expansive choreography, scores and music, and the voices and dance that give them life offer enchantment, extended to set designs and costuming, be they in Munchkinland, Emerald City, or the campus of Shiz University, where the film opens. This genius bonding keeps us glued to screen drama, despite its length. One hundred sixty minutes seem to fly by.

     Not surprisingly, Chu’s Wicked gifts audiences with two magnificent leads. We are riveted by Elphaba, played by the Emmy, Grammy, and Tony winning talent extraordinaire, Cynthia Erivo (Harriet, The Color Purple). Hated by her father, a traveling salesman as well as corrupt governor of Munchkinland, and rejected by her floozy mom who conceived her during a one-night (or perhaps two, or three) stand. To her parents, Elphaba is living proof of their curse: her skin is green. As with our clients determined, often against great odds, to rise above brutal rejection, we are with Elphaba, rooting for her, as she begins to discover her power, face her shame, and discover why her skin matches Emerald City.

     Audiences are also riveted by the delightful presence of Ariana Grande-Butera, a Grammy winning, multi-platinum superstar, who plays the adorably flirtatious, slightly awkward, narcissistic Galinda, later Glinda the Good, a living example of the impairment of overprotection and overindulgence. Molded by over-the-top privilege and fierce ambition, we watch Glinda begin to discover the importance and power of love and authentic connection. Even the Prince she yearns for, played by the multi-talented Jonathan Bailey (Bridgerton), becomes captivated by Elphaba’s depth of conscience and decency.

Development of the relationship between Elphaba and Glinda, who start out as enemies but become devoted friends, caring deeply for the well being of the other, underscores the message of the film: Despite all, love must be protected. Personal, individual developmental opportunities mold this capacity to care beyond ourselves, while corrupt leadership, in our homes, our work settings, and beyond destroy it. To quote Bettie Bassett-Roundtree, the Personal is the Political. At a time when desperately needed, the blended genius that created Wicked: Part One offers the magnificent beauty of hope.

Read the full review on socialworker.com

Dear friends and colleagues, After a few moments of watching this film, extreme discomfort set in. Marketed in the "romance genre," many will see "It Ends With Us" over the holiday weekend. The film offers an alarming resolution. Women and children die at the hands of batterers, and holiday periods can be perilous. The resolve offered in this film cannot be trusted in the real world.

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

“I want people to devour my books in one sitting because the storyline and dialogue are too gripping to put down. I don’t try to write heavy books that educate, inform, and impress. My only goal is to entertain, and hopefully that’s what I’m doing.” Colleen Hoover 

What follows is a review of the film adaptation of Colleen Hoover’s novel, It Ends With Us, which addresses domestic violence. It is not a review of the book the film is based on, which I have not read. Hoover has fully endorsed all aspects of the film, describing herself as “extremely happy“ with its completion, and á la Hitchcock, is seen in a fleeting scene.   

After an introduction to Hoover, a remarkable social media genius with a strong presence on BookTok, I will discuss the film in detail. Its positives—all discussion of domestic violence leading to societal and personal awareness is meaningful. Plus, the acting and set/costume design of the film, even when in contradiction to the character portrayed, provides a gifted ensemble and A-plus entertainment/diversion until, as the drama unfolds, discomfort sets in. The film’s dangers—it presents an over-simplification of the complex topic of domestic (or intimate partner) violence, where the circumstances of the woman abused and her path to peaceful resolve offered in the film are pure fantasy.     

Colleen Hoover has seen domestic violence up close. Her earliest memory is being awakened at age two by screaming as she witnessed her dad throwing a television set at her mom, who subsequently divorced him. Hoover’s followers are aware of her respect for, devotion to, and cherishment of her mom, echoed by their matching heart shaped tattoos inside their wrists.

Read the full review on socialworker.com

The preceding Inquirer letter shows why many deeply committed to their work leave the child welfare field.

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

     Alarmed by the numbers of mentors, friends, and colleagues leaving social work “burned the hell out, actually fried,” more than ten years ago I began research into this complex, often misunderstood phenomenon. Most focus concentrates on professional burnout. However, in digging into hundreds of studies, I found additional arenas where burnout originates and festers, intensifying others: personal, relational, and physical, with the body as readout for stress and trauma. 

     But there was a further arena not yet identified - societal burnout. We are overburdened by a perfect storm of unresolved, threatening societal challenges and a fiercely divided electorate. We are overwhelmed by the moral distress of war as we watch those in positions of power and influence skillfully pit citizens against each other, intensifying fear and anxieties to gain and maintain power and control.

     Although in their groundbreaking 1970 book, Future Shock, Alvin and Heidi Toffler did not use the term “societal burnout,” they warned of the impact of the breathtaking pace of our technological revolution, in which the illiterate of the future would no longer be those who can’t read or write, but those unable to keep up with the demands of rapid change, and subsequently yearn for the impossible, to turn back the clock (the italics mine, not the Tofflers’). Today’s unsettling dangers and discord were precisely foreshadowed, as was the importance of preparing for increased crime and intense divisions awaiting us.

Read more Here

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

    It’s a given: Social workers face horrific days with our clients when we know better than to respond to the well-intended question, “How was your day?”  For if we try, we may well be asked, “How can you spend your days like this? Why do you do this?”   

     My advice for these days: Go home; respond to only what is necessary; take a long, hot bath (whenever possible, pick a home with a tub, a highly undervalued retreat); and then visit Tom Hanks and company in his 2022 dramedy, A Man Called Otto.

     Hanks has openly shared that his wife Rita Wilson and her family taught him to love—a primary theme of Otto—and the Hanks family is heavily invested in an uplifting and heartening escape from familial and societal cruelty. Hanks and Wilson are two of the film’s producers. The soundtrack album features the single “Til You're Home,” written by Wilson and David Hodges and performed by Wilson and Sebastián Yatra. Hanks’ son Truman plays Otto as a young man, dearly and convincingly.   

Read more Here

Based on a true story, Sarah Polley brings to life the prolonged traumas of women and their daughters in an isolated setting.

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

 Content warning: Rape/Violence

     If you tuned in to the 95th Academy Awards ceremony on March 12, 2023, amidst many compelling changes, updates, and recognitions, you may know of one “smack in the face” category exclusion. Although Sarah Polley’s Women Talking, which she both wrote and directed, was nominated for Best Picture, Polley (and all women!) were excluded this year from consideration in the highly coveted director category. In a recent interview with Variety, this striking omission led Patty Jenkins, who directed Wonder Woman and Monster, to offer a sarcastic sentence, not meant to be taken literally: “I give up!”

     Polley did, however, receive an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay. In accepting her Oscar, she attacked the sexism that social workers validate hourly as again and again we see women (including ourselves) condescended to, demeaned as lacking intelligence, viewed as “less than,” and sexually objectified. “First of all, I just want to thank the Academy for not being mortally offended by the words ‘women’ and ‘talking’ put so close together like that.” 

Read the full review here

Dear friends and colleagues,
March is Social Worker’s month. Few realize all the historic profession of social work has contributed to the mental health field. I hope you find my tribute meaningful.

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

Social work is the first profession to identify the practitioner’s relationship with our clients and its essential components as the key vehicle that leads to hope, awareness, change—and in many noted cases, transformation. The relationship is devoid of superiority and condescension. Clients are not viewed as sick or “less than,” “in treatment with” a healthy paragon of knowledge and virtue. Social workers deeply believe that each client is capable of finding meaning, fulfillment, and integration of the importance of self and mutual respect…

Read the full article Here

Though it is tedious, taking the time to see this prescient film questioning the so called “best and brightest"  will be worth your while.

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

    The 2022 film White Noise, written and directed by Noah Baumbach, is billed as a comedy-drama. But make no mistake: Baumbach’s achievement is a timely, deadly serious, and I believe brilliant depiction of life—one where Baumbach digs out closely guarded intimate fears and denied external realities. Like life itself, the film moves so quickly at certain points that the viewer feels breathless. At other times, it seems to drag interminably. 

     Yes, there are some scenes that produce smiles (not primarily because they are funny, but because they hit home). There are giggle-chuckles that are due to “absurdities’—steroid manifestations—of life truths. They are the blown up, exaggerated mirror images of struggles we know well about our family and friends, our clients, our world, ourselves. This film illuminates a social worker’s challenge: Until we face ourselves and what complex societal challenges ask of us, we cannot understand our clients. We will be unable to hear what they are trying to tell us. 

Read more Here

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

     I found Spare, the controversial memoir by Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, released to the public on January 10, 2023, to hold many important life insights and opportunities for reflection (for social workers and our clients). I also found it to be misunderstood, condescended to, and judged harshly by many reviewers, critics, and readers, including several who hold a powerful media presence.   

     In its most brutal truths, Spare is a memoir about a lonely, isolated, abused, purposeless boy who becomes determined to face his realities in order to mature—in the messy, disorganized, and even conflicting process that occurs when traumas and abuse are faced. Harry exposes his family truths as he sees them to the fullest extent he can, while only hinting at some too painful to fully expose and discuss. From a social work perspective, I see his work as brave, heartfelt, and honest. Harry could well be our client. Or ourselves.

Read more Here

Dear friends and colleagues,

I hope you find the review of the series "League of the Own" (and its differences from the 1992 film) meaningful. Issues raised are relevant in light of today's raging prejudices and hatred, including antisemitism.

Found on The New Social Worker.

Found on The New Social Worker.

Found on The New Social Worker.

Found on The New Social Worker.

Found on The New Social Worker.

Found on the New Social Worker.

Found on The New Social Worker.

Found on The New Social Worker.

Found on The New Social Worker.

Found on The New Social Worker.

Found on The New Social Worker