Can men mend their broken self-esteem with a thicker penis? This documentary about the patients of a Dallas clinic offering PhalloFill® treatment suggests there might be something deeper here
In Bill Moore’s Dallas clinic, every man who drops his pants and lies on the treatment table, braced for the needle, has come looking for something without being sure what it is. As far as their physical selves are concerned, they know exactly what they want, and they are handing over thousands of bucks to pay for it: they all crave a thicker penis. Whether this will mend their broken self-esteem, though, is not clear.
Daniel Lombroso’s documentary about Moore and his patients doesn’t know precisely what it wants either, as it floats between sad stories of modern male self-image that never merge into a singular takeaway argument. Is it about looksmaxxing and the manosphere? At least one participant has picked up questionable ideas from big, bad podcasts, so yes. But the film is also interested in pornography’s flooding of male brains with extreme imagery, and how unrealistic beauty goals for women can make insecure men blame their ills on their own imperfect appearances. It’s concerned with shame, trauma and homophobia too.
Moore, who has the stunned quadrilateral face of a man who didn’t settle for the looks the Lord gave him, has carved his niche in the crowded US cosmetic procedure market with his own technology, PhalloFill®. Essentially a version of lip filler that’s pumped into the shaft of the penis, PhalloFill® is a series of hyaluronic acid injections that, in conjunction with the complementary gadget PhalloSleeve® – a sturdy, rubbery tube the colour of parcel tape that’s like an extra-thick condom – promises to create increased girth without the unsightly nodules that can be caused by filler shifting around over time.
Naturally, Moore is quite the salesman. “He and his wife are having better sex than ever,” he says of a client who, more than 25 years into his marriage, has recently become a size “6.25”. Judging by the solid silicone cylinder Moore weighs in his hand as a visual aid, the number refers to a circumference in inches that is visibly well above average. “It’s a pretty good size for a lot of women who have had children.”
But for many of Moore’s customers, the fix is not so easy. Ruben has three children under five with his current partner, Lana, to add to two who live with his ex. He and Lana, who says she is baffled by Ruben’s desire to extend a penis that clearly works perfectly well, are struggling to stay afloat financially. They cannot afford big medical bills. Vaping listlessly into a weeknight spag bol, Ruben reports that his cousin may have found him a better-paid job that it is “hard to get fired from”.
As we follow Ruben to his evening hobby – performing terrible standup comedy to a dozen or so uninterested drinkers in a neighbourhood bar – he seems like just a knackered dad with a thwarted creative streak and no professional fulfilment to distract him. But when he talks about an incident, at the age of about 10, when he was seriously sexually assaulted by another boy at school, the whole tragic story falls into place.
Another lost soul in Moore’s orbit is David, whose defining, destabilising incident is a botched penis enlargement. It left him, in Moore’s words, with “not even squishy lumps. Very hard lumps, like rock. It looked somewhat like the penis of an alien.” The film’s montage of photographs of other penises that have undergone unsuccessful procedures resembles an advertisement for a horrific novelty chess set.
David, whose baby face and ripped torso have made him a huge hit on OnlyFans – his mother found out he was gay when she was sent clips of her son’s homemade porn – went to Moore for advice on how to correct the shonky work of a different girth guru. Moore, who tells his own affecting story of growing up gay without being able to say it out loud at home, offered dedicated client care service that evolved into mentorship, friendship and then something else. We see David peacefully asleep, snuggled in bed between Moore and his partner, Clint.
In between feeling tender sympathy for Ruben and boggling at the sexual rollercoaster David has been riding, we hear from other Moore clients as the syringe pricks them. One talks of how unjust it is that small penises are routinely cited as an explanation for everything from antisocial behaviour to serial murder; another has an inoperable brain tumour and just wants to live the rest of his life exactly how he damn well chooses.
For whatever reason, everyone has at some point decided that life would be better if they were wielding a broader sword. But the malaises gently identified in Manhood look like more complex problems than Bill Moore’s boner Botox can solve.
