The Iron Claw: Family Dynamics, Approval Seeking, and Schema Therapy in Glasgow.

Watching The Iron Claw, I was struck by the childlike quality of the main character, played by Zac Efron. There is something profoundly young about him, as though part of him never quite had the chance to develop in the presence of a safe, emotionally attuned adult.

At first, parts of the family picture appear almost idyllic. The boys are action-oriented, competing, wrestling, and striving together in ways that seem natural within the world they inhabit. There is energy, physicality, and a shared sense of purpose that initially gives the impression of closeness.

As the film progresses, the father comes into sharper focus. He is the driving force behind the family’s motivation and direction. His need for achievement, recognition, and legacy dominates the emotional landscape. The family is told they are “cursed,” a story that comes to explain the repeated violence, loss, and life-altering events that take place in the ring.

“The curse,” alongside the main character’s naïveté, functions as a psychological defence. It protects the family from a far more painful truth: that the father is willing to sacrifice his children’s wellbeing in pursuit of glory and validation.

What we see is a family system made up of traumatised boys in adult bodies, driven to gain their father’s approval so they can feel real in his eyes. Their striving is not about success alone. It is about existence.

Tragically, they can never exist to him in the way they need. He is too consumed by achievement as a means of regulating his own emotional world. The children are not encountered as people with inner lives, vulnerabilities, or needs. They are valued for what they produce.

From a schema therapy perspective, this dynamic points to a core experience of emotional deprivation. The father does not offer emotional attunement, protection, comfort, or genuine interest in who his children are. On a deep level, the boys know they are not truly seen.

When children grow up in environments like this, they often carry a quiet sense of loneliness into adulthood. There may be no single event they can point to, nothing overtly abusive or dramatic. They were fed, housed, trained, and sometimes praised — yet something essential was missing. Over time, this absence becomes internalised as defectiveness or shame: a belief that something about them is insufficient or unworthy of care.

Alongside this sits subjugation. The children’s autonomy is overridden. Their bodies, choices, and emotional realities are subordinated to the father’s needs. Compliance becomes the price of attachment.

In this context, approval seeking emerges as an adaptation. Achievement, endurance, and relentless striving become ways of managing the pain of emotional deprivation. The logic is simple and devastating: if I perform well enough, I might finally be seen.

What makes the film especially poignant is that this truth cannot be named from within the family. It takes an outsider — the main character’s wife — to say it plainly: “It’s your father’s fault.” Until then, the family remains trapped in a cycle, pursuing recognition that can never be given.

The invisible wounds of childhood often leave people caught in similar patterns in adult life. The drive to be seen rarely announces itself openly. It can show up as overwork, people-pleasing, emotional shutdown, rigid control, or self-destructive behaviours. Beneath these patterns is the same unmet need: to be seen and known as a person.

Breaking the Cycle

Many people survive their families of origin by developing adaptations that later feel indistinguishable from who they are:

• “I’m the reliable one.”

• “I don’t need much.”

• “I keep going.”

• “I zone out.”

• “I drink.”

• “I push myself.”

These are adaptations — ways of tolerating emotional realities that once felt overwhelming or unsafe. Over time, however, they can begin to cost us our sense of vitality, connection, and self.

Often, it is only when life becomes more stable, or when the striving finally stops working, that the deeper pain becomes visible. What follows is frequently grief: grief for what was missed, and for the parts of the self that had to be set aside to survive.

In therapy, the work involves:

• Learning about these adaptations

• Understanding how they helped

• Recognising why it hurt so much

• Allowing the feelings that were once intolerable

• Letting the childhood be witnessed

Schema Therapy in Glasgow

In my practice, I often use schema therapy in Glasgow to work with people carrying these kinds of early relational wounds. Schema therapy helps identify long-standing patterns such as emotional deprivation, defectiveness, subjugation, and the approval-seeking or perfectionistic strategies that develop in response.

By connecting present-day struggles to their roots, therapy offers a space where people can finally feel seen and emotionally met. Over time, the nervous system learns that relationships do not have to be built around performance or self-erasure.

Where trauma memories feel particularly stuck, I may also integrate EMDR. Schema therapy, however, provides the primary framework for understanding how these patterns formed and how they can begin to soften.

If you recognise yourself in this reflection — caught between the need to be seen and the pain of never quite being met — therapy can help you step out of the cycle and move towards something different.

👉 Find out more about my schema therapy in Glasgow or contact me to arrange a first session.