Few films have made me question emotional reality the way Holland did. A narrative built on silent tension, characters who exist on the edge between lucidity and hallucination, and an atmosphere of growing unease. When I realized that maybe Dave never existed, everything turned upside down—and started to make sense. In this article, I offer an interpretation where Dave is not real but essential. Fair warning: spoilers ahead. I strongly recommend watching the film first and then coming back to dive into this perspective.

Synopsis with atmosphere

Nancy is a teacher, a mother, and a devoted wife, living in a suburban neighborhood where everything appears perfect—too perfect, almost unnaturally so. Her daily routine is peaceful, nearly suffocating in its flawless order. But it is precisely this surface-level serenity that begins to unravel when Nancy meets Dave, a mysterious teacher who seems to see something in her that no one else does: a soul in quiet anguish, deeply uncomfortable in her existence.

Dave arrives like an unexpected breeze cutting through the claustrophobic silence of her life: a gentle, attentive man. Yet as Nancy becomes emotionally entangled with this strange and comforting figure, her reality begins to crack, exposing buried traumas and disturbing secrets. The line between what is real and what is a creation of her fragile mind becomes dangerously thin.

The theory: Dave as a projection of the unconscious

From the very beginning, Dave seems to appear only when Nancy is emotionally on the verge of collapse. His presence is timely, almost as if he were a direct response to her inner crises. He is never convincingly seen interacting with other adults and never talks to teachers, parents, or even Nancy’s child, making his existence deeply suspicious.

The crucial clue that Dave does not exist physically lies in his "death." The scene is violent and decisive: Dave supposedly dies, crushed by a television after a fight with Fred, Nancy’s abusive husband. However, there is no body, no broken television, and no tangible evidence of violence. Days later, Fred reappears completely unharmed, revealing that all that brutality happened exclusively in Nancy’s mind. The fallen TV was never there, but the blood was. The real wound is on Nancy’s forehead, clear proof that the altercation was actually between her and Fred. Dave is a projection of dissociation, a desperate attempt by Nancy to emotionally survive the physical and psychological assault.

Dave, in truth, symbolizes the courage Nancy is unable to consciously access. He embodies her inner strength, the lucid voice her mind needed to finally see and accept the horror of her domestic reality. Every scene involving Dave, the fight, the house that never existed, the almost-sexual encounter followed by perhaps a solitary act of masturbation, and the mirror reflecting her fragmented image reinforces the theory that he is a manifestation of the unconscious, a psychological defense against unbearable pain.

Symbolism and aesthetics as the language of the mind

Holland employs visual and auditory symbols with refined subtlety to express the protagonist’s inner processes. The recurring use of soft lighting and heavy shadows reveals the duality between surface-level reality and Nancy’s turbulent subconscious. Sounds are muffled, creating a sense of intense emotional isolation.

But perhaps the most powerful symbol lies in the dolls that appear throughout the film. At first, there are three: man, woman, and child, representing Fred, Nancy, and their son. However, near the end, the male doll disappears. This absence is not replaced by another figure; Dave is not introduced as a substitute. The space is intentional, symbolizing that Nancy did not replace her abusive husband with another man. Dave was never a new romantic partner—he was the embodiment of her inner courage.

Another crucial detail is the film’s final narration. While it begins with Nancy narrating alone, by the end, Dave’s voice starts to blend with hers in a precise and emotionally resonant echo. The film suggests a full fusion between Nancy and her psychological projection: she has now become what Dave once represented.

Here, we can reference Carl Jung and his theory of archetypes and the collective unconscious. Dave emerges as a kind of animus, the personification of the masculine force Nancy needed to access to integrate her courage.

Emotional conclusion

Holland is a film that transcends its apparent narrative of psychological suspense and domestic violence to make us reflect on something profoundly human: our ability to create internal worlds to survive unbearable realities. We all have our own inner “”Daves”—voices we create to protect ourselves, to guide us through pain and fear.

The film’s greatest impact lies precisely in its ability to confront us with this emotional truth. Nancy reminds us that, often, the real monster is not necessarily external but the inner parts of ourselves we fail to integrate. The film asserts, with brutal delicacy, that acknowledging pain is essential to overcoming it.

The final question, "What if it wasn’t real?" is not just about Dave but about the human experience itself. About how much we are willing to believe the narratives we create to withstand suffering. In the end, Holland leaves us with a powerful invitation: perhaps what truly matters is not whether our illusions are real, but how deeply we need them to finally face our truth.