Courageous (2011) follows the blueprint of Alex Kendrick’s previous film, Fireproof — only with cops instead of firefighters and “The Resolution” instead of “The Love Dare” — and takes it to unadvisable extremes.

The movie’s thesis is established in an early scene in which a “study on the increase in violent gang activity” is cited. “In almost every case, each gang member had a similar attribute … most of them came from a fatherless home.” Moreover, “when a father’s absent, kids are five times more likely to commit suicide and abuse drugs, twenty times more likely to wind up in prison.”

I don’t know if those numbers are correct — and that the name of the study, who conducted it, and where it was published remain unspecified doesn’t fill me with confidence — but the takeaway seems to be that single mothers are worthless. Make that black single mothers, since every criminal in the film is portrayed by an African American actor.

Officer Nathan Hayes (Ken Bevel), who never met his biological father, is an exception to the rule — but then he had a father figure who “mentored” him as a teenager. Still, Nathan claims that “not having a father as a child scarred me in more ways than I can count.” Accordingly, he doesn’t count them.

Maybe he doesn’t have to. The opening scene inadvertently shows how screwed up he is. When his truck is stolen at a gas station, Nathan chases it like he’s Carl Weathers vs. the taxi cab in Action Jackson. We see Nathan hanging for dear life from the passenger door, fighting off the perp, and finally causing him to crash against a tree. All while Nathan’s baby boy is in the backseat.

This is not just a high-octane set piece in an action thriller. Courageous is not an action thriller, and apart from a climactic showdown, the opener is the only action scene in the film. Unlike the car rescue from Fireproof, which depicted firefighters doing their job, this sequence in Courageous represents a setting of the bar. The filmmakers expect fathers to figuratively and literally lay it all on the line for their children — up to and including their children.

Nathan’s behavior could be interpreted as an adrenaline-fueled, knee-jerk reaction. However, it’s telling that, afterward, no one points out to him how reckless his actions are for either a parent or a police officer. You’re not supposed to put innocent bystanders in more danger than they already are. That the kid survived unscathed is nothing short of a miracle, which I suppose is part of the message.

Compared to that, pledging allegiance to a patriarchal quasi-cult doesn’t seem like too big a deal. Nonetheless, the “we don’t know when we’ve gone too far” approach permeates even the comparatively grounded moments — for example, the scene where Nathan takes his fifteen-year-old daughter to a fancy restaurant and presents her with a heart-shaped, chastity-oriented promise ring. The accompanying covenant grants Nathan veto power over her romantic relationships. This is an unsettling display of paternal control and possessiveness that the daughter is unrealistically happy to accept. Then again, maybe she’s just doing it to appease him, lest he tries to “rescue” her like he did his son.