Movies in Mind: ‘We need to talk about Kevin’—Is an antisocial personality disorder ‘born’ or ‘made’?

This movie, adapted from Lionel Shriver’s novel of the same title, is a thriller drama that chronicles the upbringing of Kevin, a distinctly odd, oppositional and angry child, who is raised by Eva and Franklin (played by Tilda Swinton and John C. Reily). In its focus on Kevin and his mother’s reactions to him, the screenplay imparts a vague and lingering anxiety throughout. Such a style is successful in preparing the audience for its chilling ending. Kevin himself is also a memorably sinister character.

The chronology flashes back and forth through the lens of Eva to various stages in her life. In so doing, one can identify with the all-too-human musings of a typical mental life—with cues triggering a multitude of thoughts, feelings and memories that are not so easily compartmentalized. These include the cruel voices of others recently denigrating her, followed by distant recollections of her ‘bohemian’ youth, and her early relationship with Franklin. The film was also able to successfully convey Eva’s ambivalence toward her pregnancy, something that becomes prophetic as the film subsequently unfolds. In her daily life, Eva finds herself being stared at by locals as she goes about her humdrum suburban existence. Later, more obvious insults occur. Clearly ‘they’ were holding Eva responsible for all of Kevin’s heinous acts.

Kevin has quirks that are apparent throughout stages of his childhood. Eva is clearly frustrated by these, despite her efforts to the contrary. He appears to lack so many attributes that make his sibling, by sharp contrast, so endearing as a child. The film also touches on Kevin’s delayed language development, his lack of reciprocal interactions, and meaningless rituals all suggesting (at first) that he might be autistic. Later, he begins to demonstrate increasing oppositionality (though this was seemingly confined to Eva and did not include Franklin) along with the emergence of a caustically cruel wit.

Then there is the arrival of his younger sibling, whom Kevin tends to readily demean and manipulate. This is where features of Conduct Disorder appear to emerge more explicitly. His pathology also appears to corrode his parents’ relationship, despite their efforts to maintain the façade. It is clear that Kevin can intimidate Eva, but he also tends to perplex and irritate her. On occasions, she finds herself reacting angrily to him, but mostly she tends to ‘walk on eggshells’ around her son’s stark rudeness.

As I watched them interact, I (Anand) found myself musing on classic developmental theories. This included the ‘goodness of fit’ (Thomas and Chess, 1977) between a child’s and a parent’s temperament and behaviors, something which was hypothesized to be so crucial to personality development. Nonetheless, there was something stubbornly malevolent about Kevin’s core personality, despite Eva’s anguished efforts to be a ‘good enough mother’ (Winnicott, 1960) and Franklin’s successful bonding with him as a father. What would have occurred had there been psychiatric or psychological ‘interventions’? Eva does seek such help. However, her concerns remain essentially unaddressed.

Of all the pathology portrayed, one phenomenon was striking: the marked contrast between Eva’s disdainful perception of Kevin and that of Franklin’s entirely benign one. This splitting of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ Kevin is, from a psychodynamic perspective, emblematic of his own ‘split-off’ object relations that are central to the toxicity of his personality.

This has been previously recognized with respect to the hypothesized psychological origins of pathological narcissism, antisocial personality disorder as well as psychopathy (Kernberg, 1967), whereby parenting figures are either unable or unavailable to reconcile (‘contain’) such polarized ‘self-representations’. In turn, this has been posited to result in intense but unresolved and ultimately dichotomous (‘unfused’) affects that are alternately projected onto various others (i.e. splitting). Such pathology also purportedly results in the relentless need for omnipotent control. It is this (and not anger) which is said to drive behaviors such as intimidation and predatory violence (Meloy, 1992).

Perhaps this formulation is itself too glib? There are many instances of ‘well-adjusted’ and personable adults who come from far more dysfunctional households than the one portrayed here. It therefore made us wonder whether malevolence or ‘evil’ (however it is defined) may be such a genetically determined ‘trait’ that it is simply impossible to alter. In this respect, Kevin’s malevolence as well as his childhood history appears reminiscent of other infamous serial killers (such as Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer) where there were no obvious (environmental) causes. Research in this area also points toward a strongly genetic etiology (Raine, 2013).

In the end, Kevin emerges as a predictably obnoxious character. In finding herself always cleaning up after his blood-stained, reckless acts, it is Eva that literally and figuratively soaks up the guilt that ought to follow such delinquent acts. The metaphor of ‘blood on her hands’ does not therefore go unnoticed.

Kevin is eventually imprisoned for his acts, but that doesn’t stop Eva from asking him the burning question: ‘Why?’ His answer is unsatisfying. As his last two victims are visualized, explanations are still not forthcoming, and one is left essentially numb. Whether Kevin’s malevolence was ‘born’, ‘made’ or both, Eva still does what many mothers would do: comfort her child, while heaping blame upon herself. Her tearful hug therefore ‘says’ so much more than words can say.