Understanding Vulnerable Narcissism: Insights from the movie “The Real Pain”
Have you ever loved someone who constantly seeks reassurance, feels hurt by minor criticism, and always finds a way to turn the conversation back to themselves, even at inappropriate moments? Perhaps you are in a relationship with someone who exhibits vulnerable narcissistic traits. This can leave you exhausted and confused, wondering if you are the problem.
As a therapist specialising in relationship dynamics, I found Jesse Eisenberg's film “The Real Pain” (2023) to be one of the most authentic portrayals of vulnerable narcissism I've seen on screen. Through Benji (Kieran Culkin) and his complex relationship with his cousin David (Jesse Eisenberg), the movie shows how it is to love someone with these traits.
Lost in the mist of self-doubt; when vulnerability and narcissism intertwine.
When Narcissism Looks Like Insecurity
When people think of the word "narcissist" they usually imagine someone who is arrogant and full of themselves. However, vulnerable narcissism can be more complex. Rather than showing off, those with vulnerable narcissism often display feelings of self-doubt and insecurity, yet they still seek constant validation and attention from others.
Benji embodies this perfectly. He speaks softly, seems deeply affected by others' suffering, and constantly expresses insecurities, yet everything still becomes about him and his emotional needs.
Loving a Benji: The Push-Pull Experience
If you've ever loved someone like Benji, you know the emotional rollercoaster it creates. In the film, David's experience mirrors what many of my clients describe:
The Genuine Connection
Just like David, you probably don't stay in the relationship because you're “trauma bonded” or have poor boundaries. You stay because there are real moments of connection, and the other person has qualities you love:
Their enthusiasm can be contagious. When Benji gets excited about something, his energy lights up the room. These people often have a childlike passion that pulls others in. We see this when Benji makes connections with strangers on their journey. His eagerness can be genuinely charming.
They can be incredibly fun and engaging. David clearly enjoys Benji's company at times; they laugh together, share meaningful moments, and have a genuine family bond. There are scenes where their natural rapport shines through, like when they reminisce about childhood memories or share quiet moments in their hotel room.
Their sensitivity can create beautiful moments. People with vulnerable narcissistic traits often notice details others miss and can express genuine care (even if it's inconsistent). Benji occasionally shows flashes of real insight into others' experiences that remind us there's depth beneath their self-focus.
They're often creatively gifted. Benji's artistic sensibilities and emotional intensity make him perceptive and expressive. His desire to write and create comes from a genuine wish to understand human experience.
The moments of genuine connection feel particularly precious. When they truly see you and connect without self-interest, it reminds you why you care so deeply. The film captures several quiet instances where Benji momentarily steps outside his own narrative and authentically engages with David.
The Exhausting Reality
At the same time, loving someone with these traits can be so difficult.
The emotional weather is always shifting. One moment, everything is fine; the next, they are deeply hurt by something you hardly notice saying. David never knows which Benji he'll meet from moment to moment: the insightful, sensitive cousin or the emotionally demanding one.
Their pain always seems bigger than anyone else's. During the Holocaust memorial tour, Benji focuses on his own emotions in moments that should go beyond personal issues, leaving David torn between compassion and frustration. Confronted with historical horrors, Benji finds ways to make it about his own suffering.
You become responsible for their emotional state. David constantly checks on Benji, adjusts plans around his needs, and walks on eggshells to avoid triggering Benji’s insecurity. We see him making countless small accommodations throughout their journey, from where they eat to how they interact with others on the tour.
Your needs often get side-lined. When you try to express your feelings, the conversation somehow boomerangs back to their experience. There are several moments when David attempts to share something important only to find himself managing Benji's reactions instead.
You are cast into roles that support their narrative. Sometimes you are the ideal audience for their emotional performances; other times, you are the heartless villain who fails to grasp their unique sensitivity. David navigates both roles, occasionally shifting between them within a single conversation.
This Isn't About "Trauma Bonding"
One particularly harmful idea circulating on social media is that relationships with people who exhibit strong narcissistic traits are based on “trauma bonding," a psychological connection formed through cycles of abuse.
However, this oversimplifies human relationships. What we observe between David and Benji isn't trauma bonding; it's a genuine human connection made complex by difficult personality patterns:
They share a genuine family history and memories that build an authentic foundation.
David recognises and appreciates Benji's positive qualities without idealising him.
Their relationship includes moments of mutual enjoyment when Benji doesn't require emotional labour.
David is aware of the problematic patterns, which is different from trauma bonding where this awareness is often lacking.
Their dynamic isn't built on fear or control but on a complex mix of family loyalty, shared experiences, and genuine moments of connection
The film illustrates that you can genuinely love someone while also recognising their difficult traits aren't healthy for you. This complex reality is far more common than the all-or-nothing thinking that dominates social media psychology.
Benji’s magnetic personality is central to his allure. He effortlessly draws people in with his charm, sensitivity, and ability to mirror others' desires. This makes him deeply compelling yet emotionally elusive, as his identity is shaped by external validation rather than internal stability.
Are You David in Someone's Life?
If you recognise yourself in David's experience, you might feel a mixture of relief (“I'm not crazy!”) and sadness (“This is not going to fundamentally change”). Here is what I tell my clients in similar situations:
It's Not Your Imagination
Trust your instincts. The confusion these relationships create often leads people to question their reality. The film beautifully captures those moments when David looks around, wondering, “Is anyone else seeing this?” So, please remember:
Your emotional exhaustion is a reaction to the situation.
The perplexing blend of love and frustration is entirely logical.
The patterns you're noticing are real, not something you've made up.
Your need for space and self-protection is healthy, not selfish
You Can Love Someone and Still Set Boundaries
The film shows David's struggle to maintain his separate identity while still being there for Benji. This balancing act is possible, though not easy:
You can appreciate their positive qualities while limiting your exposure to their hurtful behaviours.
You are not responsible for their emotional reactions.
It's alright to step back when they’re trying to draw you into their emotional vortex.
You can choose not to engage when conversations inappropriately centre around their feelings.
You don't need to apologise for your own experiences or perspective.
Their Behaviour Comes from Real Pain (But Isn't Your Responsibility to Fix It)
One of the most challenging aspects of these relationships is recognising the deep pain at the core of these difficult behaviours. These traits don’t arise in isolation; they often arise from childhood experiences where emotional needs were ignored, neglected or unmet.
We see Benji’s pain and insecurity, his need for constant reassurance isn’t just frustrating; it’s a response to a deep inner emptiness that no amount of validation can truly fill. Recognising this can foster compassion, but it doesn’t mean you have to take on the role of their emotional caretaker.
Compassion and Self-Protection Can Coexist
Many clients feel they must choose between total devotion to the difficult person or completely cutting off the relationship. The film suggests a middle path known to therapists as “compassionate detachment.”
You can care deeply for someone while choosing not to be their emotional manager.
You can preserve a connection while safeguarding your emotional resources.
You can respond with kindness without getting drawn into their reality distortion.
You can recognise their suffering without feeling responsible for solving it.
Finding Your Way Forward
If you see yourself in this dynamic, consider these gentle steps:
Practice noticing patterns without judgment
When the focus shifts to their feelings inappropriately, simply notice it happening: “There it is again. We're talking about X, and somehow it's become about their feelings”. This awareness alone creates space for choice.
Build a support network that validates your reality
Find friends, family members, or a therapist who can help you maintain perspective when you start doubting yourself. David lacks this in the film, which makes his experience even more difficult.
Experiment with small boundaries
Try simple phrases like: “I need to step away for a bit” or “I hear you're upset, but I can't talk about this right now” when interactions become overwhelming. Notice how the person responds to even minor boundary-setting, it often reveals the depth of the narcissistic pattern.
Remember what you are responsible for (and what you are not). Their emotions, insecurities, and need for validation are not your responsibility to fix. This doesn't mean being cruel or dismissive; it simply involves recognising the limits of what you can and should provide.
Create space for your own experience. Make room to process your feelings about situations without centring on their reactions. Journal, talk with close friends, or work with a therapist to stay connected to your own reality.
Cherish the genuine connection without overextending yourself. You can appreciate the real moments of joy and connection without sacrificing your well-being. Notice and treasure authentic interactions without feeling obligated to endure the difficult ones.
Why the Ending Works So Perfectly
(Spoilers ahead for the ending of The Real Pain)
What makes “The Real Pain" ’s ending so powerful is its refusal to offer easy closure. There’s no dramatic confrontation, no sweeping resolution, just the quiet, complicated reality of human relationships. After their emotionally charged journey through Poland, David and Benji achieve an unspoken understanding that feels profoundly true to life.
In the final scenes, David asserts his boundaries without completely cutting off Benji. He steps back emotionally while still preserving the family bond. Benji, for his part, displays fleeting moments of self-awareness and small glimpses of growth, though there is no miraculous transformation.
This ending captures several essential truths about relationships with vulnerable narcissists:
There’s rarely a clean break or complete healing.
Real relationships don’t resolve easily. Instead, they develop through gradual changes. David learns to care for Benji without being overwhelmed by him. Benji, in turn, remains true to himself but with a somewhat deeper understanding of his behaviours.
Acceptance isn’t the same as approval.
David accepts Benji for who he is, flaws and all, but he stops taking responsibility for managing him. This distinction is key: acceptance doesn’t mean excusing or enabling harmful behaviour; it means recognising what is and adjusting accordingly.
Genuine moments of connection can still exist.
Despite the boundary violations and frustrations, the film reminds us of the reasons people remain connected to those with narcissistic traits. There are still moments of genuine connection- fleeting but meaningful.
Real change happens in small increments, not dramatic epiphanies.
The film defies the Hollywood trope of a narcissist’s grand redemption. Instead, it presents a more honest portrayal: Benji doesn’t fundamentally change, but there are small shifts in self-awareness. This nuance is both frustrating and realistic.
The final scene, where Benji lingers at the airport, serves as a perfect metaphor for his existence. Airports symbolise transition, impermanence, and longing. Benji is perpetually searching for connection but never truly attains emotional security. His last moments encapsulate the core paradox of vulnerable narcissism: an overwhelming fear of abandonment alongside an inability to maintain the very closeness he desires.
The Bittersweet Truth
The Real Pain doesn’t provide a neat resolution to David and Benji’s relationship, and that’s precisely what makes it so genuine. Relationships with vulnerable narcissists seldom conclude with either total healing or complete severance. Instead, they develop into something more sustainable through clearer boundaries, adjusted expectations, and small moments of self-awareness on both sides.
The film’s strength lies in its nuance: you can recognise a person’s difficult traits while still valuing the relationship. This appreciation is not due to being trauma-bonded, co-dependent, or lacking boundaries; rather, it stems from the understanding that human relationships are messy and imperfect, yet can be worth navigating despite their challenges.
If you have someone like Benji in your life, your mixed feelings are completely valid. You’re not crazy for staying, you're not heartless for stepping back, and you're certainly not alone in trying to find balance. Like David, you too can find a way that considers both the relationship and your own well-being- a path that creates space for both. A path that accommodates the pain and the love that so often coexist in these complicated relationships.
If you are ready to talk, you can contact me at:
kat@SafeSpaceCounsellingServices.com.au
or call me on 0452 285 526
