[Editor's note: The following contains spoilers through The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Season 1, Episode 2, "The Star-Spangled Man."]

I’ve been going to therapy for many years, and if you’re reading this, I suggest you do, too. It’s an exceptional tool in the ongoing journey of one’s mental health, a place where you can speak and be listened to without agenda. The therapists I’ve spoken with in my life have one common trait: Unflappability. They are professionals at navigating the complicated emotional lives of their clients while not becoming destructively emotional themselves. They don’t pursue anything but giving you a runway to find your truth.

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is a welcomely grounded Marvel Cinematic Universe series, one less interested in the “big three” of supernatural baddies (“androids, aliens, and wizards,” as Anthony Mackie’s Falcon phrases it) and more interested in the traumas and struggles of getting chewed up and spit out by the systems of regular-ass life. Yes, Mackie’s Sam and Sebastian Stan’s Bucky are fierce warriors who have used state-of-the-art tech and super-soldier serums respectively to battle all kinds of strange folks. But two episodes in, the series’ fights are human-to-human, full of shades and nuance, and often hamstrung by the cruel machinations of a society so determined to make life hard for people (especially returning veterans).

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That’s why I was happy to see Amy Aquino show up as Dr. Christina Raynor, Bucky’s court-ordered therapist, in the very first episode. As made evident by Bucky’s nightmare of the merciless acts of violence he took while under Hydra mind control (rendered with shocking horror-tinged brutality by series director Kari Skogland), he needs therapy badly. In their initial sequence together, we see Bucky behave the way we often see troubled protagonists behave in therapy scenes: He plays the silent treatment at best and is openly antagonistic at worst. He baldly lies to his mental health professional about his own mental health. I understand that our (anti)hero can’t suddenly be enlightened and peaceful and ready to move on from his inner conflict; I want to see him go through this journey over the season of television. But I still couldn’t help but want to scream through the TV at him, “Just tell her the truth! You’re only hurting yourself!”

Depiction doesn’t equal endorsement, especially when it comes to a complicated character like Bucky who has objectively committed murders, but there’s something that continues to be complicated about seeing the center of our journey, the person we’re to align ourselves with being so resistant toward mental health wellness, perhaps to provoke a response of “Aw, I understand, I’d behave the same way. Therapy is weird!”

Sebastian Stan and Amy Aquino in The Falcon and the WInter Soldier
Image via Disney+

Then again, Dr. Christina Raynor might not be the best therapist for Bucky, or any client. Dramatic license must be taken in any depiction of real life. Unlike the often aimless moments of regular-ass life, dramatic scenes must involve conflict, intention, agency, and a visible drive toward a visible goal. Thus Dr. Raynor, like many film and television therapists before her, takes an aggressive approach toward “meeting the goal of making Bucky well,” poking and prodding at him, trying her best to “get him there.” She simply drips with derision and disdain at every level of her interaction with poor Bucky, even snarkily acting out his past tendencies to commit brainwashed murders. On the one hand, she needs to behave like this for the function of the scene; to watch a character be a blank slate of non-provocation without any goal of her own would likely make a boring scene. The way the scene plays is a strong visualization of Bucky’s resistance and Dr. Raynor’s (and the audience’s) desire for him to know peace. But as she kept poking and prodding and needling and frowning, even while insisting that Bucky needs to trust her, I thought to myself, “Of course he’s not speaking up. Who’d want to spill their innermost secrets to this force who obviously has an aggressive agenda?” The scene attempts to justify some of this behavior by reminding us that Dr. Raynor is a soldier who’s seen combat herself. But the moment a therapist tells you “That’s utter bullshit” is the moment you find a new therapist, dramatic license or not.

Episode 2 pumps up some of the oddness of this therapy dynamic by injecting it with one of the key secrets to the MCU’s sauce: Tension-cutting banter. After Bucky is arrested for not showing up to one of his court-mandated sessions (another complicated moment of positioning the viewer as finding therapy to be an impediment to the characters’, and show’s, action), Dr. Raynor forces both Bucky and Sam to sit down in front of her and figure out what’s tearing them apart. Surprisingly, and quite touchingly, Stan and Mackie play this scene earnestly, the pain they feel toward each other and themselves seeping from the corners of their eyes into their full figures, even as they do bantery things like move their chairs close together without knocking their knees together.

But Dr. Raynor is over here roasting and toasting them like a damn Friars Club gala. She glibly but stridently positions the exercises she wants them to do as normally being done by romantic couples, not giving them any chance to breathe at the slightest moment of resistance, cutting her patients off at the knees under the auspices of helping them stand. She is sarcastic throughout, saying things like “No volunteers? How surprising,” and “Sweet Jesus” with the tenor of a middle school gym teacher ragging on the math nerd who’s getting whomped in dodgeball. And yes, there’s an attempt at fun and bravado in these back-and-forths, the way we see all kinds of other fun back-and-forths in other “serious” MCU moments, the way we see Sam and Bucky constantly treat each other like bickering children. But not every single moment of the MCU needs to possess this kind of tone, especially not when we’re trying to watch a mental health professional deal with such clearly damaged clients.

Sebastian Stan in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier
Image via Disney+

All of this, this brevity and impatience and snarkiness, is perhaps more understandable and better played in this episode, given the emotional states of our title characters and the fact that it’s framed by an increasingly sleazy, dehumanizing new Captain America (Wyatt Russell, simply throwing away the line, “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up, so just do whatever you gotta do with him, then send him off to me”). But it’s still odd and brittle in a way I find unnecessary, even unhelpful. The sequence ends with a genuine moment of clarity and understanding — a breakthrough, even — between Sam and Bucky, even though it ends with Sam leaving the room. Dr. Raynor’s response, simply, is a sarcastic, “Thank you. That was really great.”

“No bullshit tough love,” to use a word Dr. Raynor is fond of, is a sensible stylistic choice for any character in Falcon and the Winter Soldier, but I worry it comes at the cost of actual human connection, change, or empathy in these very sensitive moments. And I worry it all comes at a cost of further demonizing seeking therapy as a viable option for anyone watching. I love the way The Falcon and the Winter Soldier pushes forward in its darker-than-usual plottings, but I really love the way it stands still in its darker-than-usual emotional explorations. I don’t want Dr. Raynor, nor performer Amy Aquino, to suddenly become clipped or dampened or in any way made less of a human being. I just hope Dr. Raynor’s own in-universe therapist tells her to get out of the way of her own bullshit and let the characters explore themselves in future episodes.

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