Bad things have a way of being twisted versions of something good. Take pride, for example. There’s good pride, and then there’s bad pride.
Good pride is the opposite of shame. “I’m proud of you!” says your mother. “I take pride in my work,” says an earnest student. “You should be proud of your roots,” says your grandfather. Such pride is rooted in self-respect and self-confidence. I wish we all had pride like that.
Then there’s bad pride, which is the opposite of humility. As in “I am a proud person” and “pride comes before a fall.” She’s “prideful.” Such pride is like vanity in both senses: it’s useless (old sense of vanity), and it’s self-absorbed (as in “you’re so vain”). Such pride destroys because in it we elevate our own identities and contributions to the expense of others. Aloof, too proud to ask for help, too proud to care.
For all of it’s predictable cheesiness, the film Pride vividly depicts almost all of the characters transitioning from the latter to the former. Plus, when was the last time someone made a decent movie about swimming?