By Joshua Tyler
| Updated 41 seconds ago

People don’t just want to belong, they need to. Rejection isn’t treated by the brain as a metaphorical pain; it registers the same way as physical harm. That means people will do almost anything to make sure they belong. However, belonging isn’t strengthened by agreement; it’s strengthened by what you’re willing to ignore to stay aligned.

The power to make someone ignore what’s being done to them may be the most powerful persuasion technique of all. It was used in the biggest, most awarded movie of 2025, and no one seemed to notice. They couldn’t notice, because noticing comes with a cost. Once you decide not to notice, you’re owned. Instead, they gave it Oscars and pretended everything was normal and fine, though deep down, it’s likely everyone watching knew it wasn’t. 

This is the story of how One Battle After Another screenwashed believers into becoming zealots, all to belong.

A Script Made Up Of Words Shouted At A Federal Building

One Battle After Another was directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, the genius auteur behind movies like There Will Be Blood and Boogie Nights. It’s loosely based on a 1990 novel called Vineland. 

The movie itself centers on Bob Ferguson, played by Leonardo DiCaprio, a washed-up former revolutionary from the terrorist militant group French 75. He lives off-grid in stoned paranoia, raising his spirited, and often totally disrespectful and rude, teenage daughter, Willa.

Sixteen years after participating in a terrorist attack on a U.S.-Mexico border detention center, his old enemy, Col. Steven J. Lockjaw, played by Sean Penn, resurfaces, forcing Bob and Willa to run.

That’s the story on paper, but nothing on screen ever feels that cohesive. Early on, the dialogue consists mostly of words that sound like they were shouted at a Federal building. Later, it devolves into cursing and guttural sounds. There’s a lot of driving back and forth in cars, and time spent breathing heavily in filthy places with filthy people.

One Battle After Another Is Setting A Trap, For The Audience

The movie might sound unappealing, and it is, but it’s also on purpose because One Battle After Another is not out to tell a compelling story; it’s setting a trap. A Reflexive Manipulation Trap. 

A reflexive manipulation trap is a persuasion tactic in which a message is made obviously manipulative, on purpose, in order to create pressure on the audience to deny or overlook that manipulation. By accepting the message anyway, the audience participates in maintaining the illusion, which increases their psychological commitment to it. 

It’s like becoming an accessory to murder. Once you’ve participated in the crime, you’ll do anything to hide the body. 

Creating that kind of mental trap is deep and complex, and it exists for only one, very specific purpose. More on what that is as we unravel this thread. 

How To Create A Reflexive Manipulation Trap

Here’s how One Battle After Another executes its Reflexive Manipulation trap, step by step.

Before a would-be persuader can execute a Reflexive Manipulation Trap, they have to pick a specific audience. Usually, the best movies and indeed the best art is designed to tap into something universal and primal. For this to work, you must do the opposite and go after one group. For instance, if you were going after dog lovers, you’d probably start your story off by showing your hero rescuing a dog.

One Battle After Another is intended only for people who exist on the most left-wing end of the political spectrum. That’s why you’ve seen the Hollywood elite slobbering over the movie like it’s the biggest thing ever, but have likely heard virtually nothing about it from your average, non-political friends. 

So One Battle After Another opens with a scene involving a heroic raid on an illegal immigrant detention center. According to most polling, nearly 80% of people are in favor of detaining illegal immigrants. So 80% of viewers will be turned off by this movie from the jump.

It’s all on purpose as One Battle immediately launches into speeches extolling the virtues of open borders, and then enforces that view at the point of a gun. It’s on purpose because it’s intentionally only courting the remaing 20% of the audience that agrees with these views, and in doing so, it tells them explicitly that this movie is for you and your group, right off the bat. 

Moral authority established. I’m one of you. 

Now that your audience knows who the good people are, you must make one of those good people do something wrong. Something evil.

Over the course of the movie’s first half hour, one of our chief protagonists is a terrorist leader, a black woman whose actual name is Perfidia Beverly Hills. She’s violent, overbearing, and totally dedicated to the cause.

That might sound off-putting, but remember, you can’t look at this movie through a lens of what would appeal to you or anyone in the 80%. You must look at it through the lens of what would appeal to that 20%. And for that 20%, she checks all the boxes to be their ideal woman. She’s perfect.

Perfidia soon becomes pregnant. She immediately abandons her newborn infant for what she describes as “the revolution” while proclaiming that no one can take her power.

By any normal moral standard, a mother abandoning a newborn is one of the worst things someone can do. It’s flat-out evil.

Yet the person doing it is the character most ideologically aligned with the film’s target audience. Their ideal woman. And while she’s out of the story for most of the film after this, up until this point, she’s been framed as the movie’s main hero.

When Perfidia announces that she’s choosing herself over her newborn, the man who thinks he’s her father, DiCaprio’s Bob character, could object. Instead, he mutters some vague things about family before announcing “you go, girl” and sending her on her way to abandon her child.

Later, Perfidia is condemned for other reasons, but no one objects to this mother abandoning her baby daughter. At all. 

Squirming in their seats, the audience can’t object either. From the 20%’s point of view, the woman committing this evil is part of a protected class and also ideologically aligned with them. She’s their group’s spirit animal, and they know it. 

Even more critically, she specifically cites their mutual ideology as the reason for her sick, selfish abandonment of her baby. For someone in that 20%, in order to condemn Perfidia’s action, they’d have to mentally challenge everything they believe in.

Leo’s Bob character has now been left to care for a newborn, who isn’t even really his daughter, on his own. This should be difficult and traumatic, but One Battle After Another dodges those consequences by flashing forward to a future where the baby’s grown and everything worked out just fine. 

Hand wave, it didn’t matter. See, it’s easy to accept, fellow group member!

The abandonment of Perfidia’s daughter is the inciting incident for the entire film. Everything that happens after hinges on it.

If you reject this incident as repugnant, you must reject the entire movie. If you reject the movie, you reject its ideology. If you reject that ideology, you no longer belong to the group that the movie has established itself as representing. Your group, the group you’ve built your entire identity around.

Or you can decide it’s fine for a mother to abandon an infant in the name of black power. You must choose.

To make the effect stick, you must lock in the viewer’s acceptance of evil with a reward. In this case that reward is zealot porn.

Zealot porn is a short-cut term I coined, which refers to content intentionally crafted to gratify moral superiority, deliver cathartic satisfaction, and lock in beliefs deeper through confirmation bias. Often this is done through the portrayal of extreme violence, which would otherwise be unacceptable.

Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds is an early example of zealot porn, an entire movie crafted for the purpose of giving audience members the pleasure of watching Nazis burn.

Another recent example is the television series, Peacemaker. The show’s second season creates a plot around the idea of giving its audience pleasure by watching people it labels as evil suffer. 

One Battle After Another spends most of its run time delivering dopamine hits to its 20% through tormenting its ideological opponents. The movie kills its white male villain twice, for no real reason other than it enjoys watching him die. After the second time, the camera follows along as workers dispose of his carcass, so the audience can revel in watching his carcass burn. 

That’s zealot porn. Catharsis is delivered, and the audience is rewarded for belonging. 

Now, One Battle After Another’s viewers are fully complicit in what it’s doing, and to justify their decision to comply with its agenda, they’ll do anything. Even give it six Oscars. 

Solidifying Support After You’ve Won The Propaganda War

One Battle After Another is what it looks like when you’ve won the propaganda battle and the time for persuasion is over. One Battle After Another is what it looks like when you stop convincing and start solidifying. And that’s exactly what it’s doing.

What people call psychological programming or brainwashing is usually a stack of learned associations, emotions tied to symbols, stories tied to identity, reactions tied to cues. Those associations only hold as long as they’re being refreshed. Remove the reinforcement, and the system starts to unwind over time.

It’s why cult deprogramming usually revolves around simply getting the victim away from the cult. Separate them from constant reinforcement of the message, and the programming fades on its own.

That means that once a malign force has someone under its control, it has to keep putting in work to keep them there. But it can’t keep doing what it did before, continuing to persuade someone to your point of view after you’ve already convinced them, often backfires, and turns them against you.

That’s where a Reflexive Manipulation Trap becomes useful. It won’t persuade new people over to your side, but it does ensure that none of your existing followers stray. It does this by making them lie to themselves. It does so by making them complicit in a crime or moral wrongdoing. 

Once Someone Lies To Themselves, They Keep Lying To Cover Up The First Lie

Unlike other forms of persuasion, which lose efficacy the more frequently they’re used, you can keep setting traps like this one over and over again. So that’s exactly what One Battle After Another does.

That first trap, revolving around Perfidia abandoning her child, is the setup for a series of obvious manipulations and overt propagandistic moments. Having already lied to themselves to get through the first one, the audience keeps lying through all of them.

It’s why One Battle After Another is visually uninspired. It’s why the plot is meandering and disjointed. It’s why the characters are largely cartoony and ridiculous. Even their names are idiotic. The main villain’s name is literally Colonel Lockjaw.

Every one of these narrative and moral affronts in the film must be accepted by the audience as a work of genius because of the trap, and every one they accept binds them closer and closer to the group the movie is targeting. Everyone who walked out of One Battle After Another became, in one way or another, a more zealous member of that 20% than they were when they walked in. 

Bind them close enough, make them complicit enough, and there’s no limit to what they’ll do to make sure they continue belonging. Some day we’ll say it all started, because One Battle After Another laid a trap.

Congratulations, loyal zealots, you’ve been Screenwashed.