Here’s the Movie Mentor You’d Be, Based On Your Myers and Briggs Personality Type

Some mentors teach you how to wield a sword. Others teach you how to wield your trauma. And a few... just toss you off a metaphorical cliff and yell, “You’ll learn on the way down!” (Looking at you, ENTP.)

Whether you’re on a hero’s journey or just trying to make it through Tuesday without completely falling apart, having the right guide makes all the difference. And if we could assign a fictional mentor to each of the 16 Myers-Briggs® types—someone who really gets the quirks, strengths, and internal existential spirals of your type—who would it be?

Not every mentor is warm and fuzzy. Some are cryptic. Some are chaotic. Some emotionally hug you with their eyes while sipping tea on a mountaintop. But all of them leave a mark.

So which fictional mentor is your movie or TV twin? Let’s find out!

INFJ – The Ancient One (Doctor Strange)

"You think you know how the world works? You think that this material universe is all there is? What is real? What mysteries lie beyond the reach of your senses? At the root of existence, mind and matter meet. Thoughts shape reality. This universe is only one of an infinite number. Worlds without end. Some benevolent and life-giving; Others filled with malice and hunger. Dark places, where powers older than time lie... ravenous... and waiting. Who are you in this vast Multiverse, Mr. Strange?"

The Ancient One doesn’t hand you a training manual. She hands you a cup of tea, rips your soul out of your body, hurls it through thirteen dimensions of existential horror, and then gently asks, “Who are you in this vast Multiverse?” INFJs mentor like that. Calm. Compassionate. Sometimes a bit terrifying. She’s not here to boost your confidence—she’s here to obliterate your ego so something real can grow in its place.

In Doctor Strange, she sees past Stephen’s arrogance and straight into his deepest fear—and then slices through it like butter with a glowing hand gesture. INFJs don’t train you for applause. They train you for alignment. Their lessons come wrapped in riddles, revelations, and that unnerving ability to know your soul better than you do. You’ll question reality. You’ll cry a little. But when the fog clears, you’ll realize: she didn’t break you. She unlocked you.

It’s like therapy, but with portals and the occasional push off a metaphysical cliff.

INTJ – Gandalf (The Lord of the Rings)

“Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment.”

Gandalf is the kind of mentor who shows up just when everything’s about to fall apart, drops one cryptic line of prophecy, and then disappears for six chapters while you question your entire life.

In The Lord of the Rings, Gandalf is a wizard—yes, a literal wizard—but more importantly, he’s a strategist. A long-game player. While everyone else is panicking about orcs and cursed jewelry, Gandalf is five timelines ahead, setting things in motion you won’t understand until the epilogue. He doesn’t waste words. He doesn’t explain every step. But when he speaks, you listen.

INTJ mentors like Gandalf don’t hover. They don’t babysit. They give you the information you need, exactly when you need it, and then they trust you to make the next move. (And if you screw it up, they’ll still show up on a hill at sunrise with an army, because loyalty runs deep—even if they pretend otherwise.)

You won’t get constant affirmation from an INTJ. But you will get truth. Vision. Strategy. And a fierce belief in your potential—especially when you don’t see it yourself. If an INTJ picks you to mentor, it’s because they believe you can carry the ring, face the darkness, and still walk out the other side wiser, stronger and very slightly traumatized.

Also, if they ever say, “You shall not pass,” move. Something bad is coming.

ENFJ – Professor Xavier (X-Men)

"You Have The Chance To Become Part Of Something Much Bigger Than Yourself."

Charles Xavier doesn’t just build a school for mutants—he builds a home. An ENFJ mentor doesn’t see what’s wrong with you; they see your pain, your fear, your potential, and go, “Right. Let’s make you unstoppable.” Remember when young Jean Grey is scared of her powers and he steps in and reminds her, “You are not broken. You are special”? That’s the ENFJ gift: seeing the messiest parts of you and treating them like buried treasure. 

Xavier is always forming teams, inspiring loyalty and throwing in a little emotional speech mid-battle. Sure, he makes mistakes, but his heart is always in the right place. And let’s be real—if you had mind powers, you’d probably mess up once or twice too.

ENTJ – Gordon Gekko (Wall Street)

“You got ninety percent of the American public out there with little or no net worth. I create nothing. I own. We make the rules, pal. The news, war, peace, famine, upheaval, the price per paper clip. We pick that rabbit out of the hat while everybody sits out there wondering how the hell we did it.”

If your ideal mentor is someone who brings snacks and tells you to follow your heart, ENTJs are not it. ENTJ mentors don’t do coddling. They do conquest. And nobody embodies this better than Gordon Gekko from Wall Street—a man who treats ambition like a blood sport and turns corporate power plays into an art form.

Gekko is a high-stakes investor with a voice like a knife and a wardrobe that screams “I own this building and everyone in it.” When he mentors, it’s not to help you “find yourself.” It’s to turn you into a lean, calculating success machine. He teaches you how to see ten steps ahead, read people like pie charts, and strike when the world blinks. His most famous line? “Greed, for lack of a better word, is good.” Yeah. That’s the vibe.

ENTJ mentors are brilliant, commanding and built for results. They don’t just want you to win—they want you to dominate. But here’s the fine print: follow one of them too blindly, and you might lose your moral compass somewhere between the elevator pitch and the penthouse. So sure, let the ENTJ teach you to be bold, strategic and relentless. Just don’t forget who you are on the way up.

Or at the very least, don’t end up indicted.

ISFJ – Uncle Ben (Spider Man)

“Peter... these are the years when a man changes into the man he's gonna become for the rest of his life. Just be careful who you change into.”

Uncle Ben is the soul of quiet wisdom and unconditional love. He’s not out here slinging webs or punching villains—he’s just making sure you get home in time for dinner and remember to treat people with respect. But then he drops a line like, “With great power comes great responsibility,” and suddenly your whole character arc is sobbing. 

ISFJs mentor through presence. They lead by example. They’re the ones who notice when you’re hurting and make you a sandwich while gently reminding you not to become the thing you hate. And sure, they might die tragically in the first act, but their influence lingers like the smell of home-cooked spaghetti.

ISTJ – Master Shifu (Kung Fu Panda)

“Before the battle of the fist comes the battle of the mind.”

Master Shifu is the kind of mentor who makes you do the same form a hundred times in a row, not because he’s mean, but because he actually knows what he’s doing. In Kung Fu Panda, he’s the stern, disciplined kung fu master tasked with training Po—a clumsy panda with the attention span of a toddler on espresso—to become the Dragon Warrior. And he is not thrilled about it.

At first, Shifu is all structure and skepticism. He believes in precision, tradition, and the sacred art of doing things the right way—which is very much not how Po operates. Watching them train together is like watching a war-hardened drill sergeant try to coach a golden retriever puppy in a bouncy castle. But slowly, cautiously, Shifu adapts. He observes. He adjusts. And that’s where the ISTJ brilliance kicks in.

ISTJ mentors like Shifu might seem cold at first—they prioritize results over warm fuzzies. But they are deeply loyal, quietly compassionate, and entirely dedicated to helping you reach your full potential (even if it means completely reworking their systems to meet you where you are). Their praise is rare, but earned.

Shifu won’t waste your time with pep talks. He’ll hand you the tools, show you the process, and expect you to respect the grind. But if you stick with it, you’ll look back one day and realize: that “annoying perfectionist” built you into a warrior.

ESFJ – Ted Lasso

“Success is not about the wins and losses. It’s about helping these young fellas be the best versions of themselves, on and off the field.”

Okay, he’s a TV not a movie character, but Ted Lasso walks into your life like a walking hug with a mustache. In the show Ted Lasso, he’s an American football coach who’s hired to coach a British soccer team—even though he knows literally nothing about soccer. Like, nothing. But plot twist: he ends up being one of the most effective and beloved mentors to ever grace a locker room.

ESFJs like Ted don’t need to know the rules of the game to change it. He mentors through connection. He remembers your name, your dog’s name, your favorite snack, and the exact moment you stopped believing in yourself. He bakes biscuits (cookies, for us Americans). He writes handwritten notes. He believes in the power of vulnerability in a world that keeps telling men to “toughen up.” And he does it all while rocking dad jokes and relentless optimism.

But here’s the thing: Ted’s kindness isn’t useless fluff. It’s fierce. He walks into a team full of bitterness and brokenness and slowly, steadily wins them over—not with flashy plays or screaming matches, but with empathy, consistency, and heart. He knows that people perform better when they feel seen. When they feel safe. When someone believes in them—even on the days they’re a mess.

ESFJ mentors like Ted will be your biggest cheerleader and the one who gently calls you out when you’re self-sabotaging. They’ll see the cracks in your armor and love you more because of them. And just when you think they’re all sunshine and biscuits, they’ll surprise you with the kind of emotional insight that hits like a freight train in a cardigan.

ESTJ – Coach Boone (Remember the Titans)

“I don't scratch my head unless it itches and I don't dance unless I hear some music. I will not be intimidated. That's just the way it is.”

Coach Herman Boone is the kind of mentor who walks into a room and immediately makes everyone sit up straighter. In Remember the Titans, he’s tasked with coaching a newly integrated high school football team in 1971 Virginia—a time and place so tense with racial division, you could slice the air with a butter knife. From day one, Boone brings the full force of ESTJ energy: structure, discipline, intensity and exactly zero tolerance for nonsense.

He doesn’t coddle. He doesn’t sugarcoat. His speeches hit like cold water to the face: jolting, uncomfortable, and exactly what you need to wake up. He pushes his players—hard—because he knows what’s at stake. He’s not just building a team; he’s forcing a group of angry, defensive teenagers to become a family in the middle of a cultural war zone. And somehow? It works.

ESTJ mentors like Boone don’t care if you like them. They care if you grow. They’re all about accountability, tradition, and systems that work—even if they have to drag you kicking and screaming through them. But underneath the stern tone and no-nonsense vibe is someone who deeply cares. Boone fights for his players, defends what’s right, and holds the entire team to a higher standard—not just as athletes, but as people.

INFP – Sean Maguire (Good Will Hunting)

“You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.”

Sean Maguire is the kind of mentor who will sit beside you in silence for three sessions before cracking your emotional armor open with a single, soul-punching story. In Good Will Hunting, Sean is a therapist, but more importantly, he’s someone who sees Will—the broken, brilliant, guarded math prodigy—and refuses to give up on him. INFP mentors like Sean lead with empathy, not ego. He’s not trying to fix you. He’s trying to know you. And when he says, “It’s not your fault,” over and over until Will finally breaks? That’s INFP power. Soft. Persistent. World-changing.

These mentors don’t give you answers. They create space for you to find yourself and feel your way toward healing. Their wisdom doesn’t come with bullet points—it comes with stories, empathy, and the kind of presence that makes you believe maybe—just maybe—you’re lovable, too.

INTP – Yoda (Star Wars)

“You must unlearn what you have learned.”

Yoda is the ultimate “I’ll confuse you into enlightenment” mentor. INTPs don’t hand you clear instructions—they toss you a cryptic riddle in passive voice and watch with quiet enjoyment as you try to reverse-engineer it. “Do or do not. There is no try.” Uh... thanks? I think?

But look closer: Yoda doesn’t waste words. INTP mentors want you to think—not follow blindly. They push you to question, analyze, and experiment your way to wisdom. He trains Luke Skywalker not just to fight, but to understand himself. To master his fear. To see through the illusions of the ego. That’s the INTP style: quiet, odd, occasionally upside-down in a swamp—but brilliant.

Also, if you underestimate them because they’re small and quirky? You will be flung across the galaxy with a flick of their mind. Just saying.

ENFP – Professor Keating (Dead Poets Society)

“We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

“Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.” ENFP mentors like Professor Keating don’t walk into your life quietly. They explode into it like a firework of passion, curiosity, and weird teaching methods involving standing on desks. In Dead Poets Society, Keating encourages his students to rip pages out of their textbooks and question everything. He doesn’t want them to follow a path. He wants them to create one.

ENFPs mentor by giving you permission—permission to feel, to dream, to defy expectations. Their classrooms (or living rooms, or car rides) are filled with poetry, laughter, tears and sudden epiphanies. They believe that life isn’t meant to be survived—it’s meant to be lived, and deeply. Of course, that kind of fire can burn hot. ENFP mentors can be messy, intense and a little scattered. But you will leave their presence more awake than you were before.

ENTP – Haymitch Abernathy (The Hunger Games)

“Embrace the probability of your imminent death, and know in your heart that there's nothing I can do to save you.”

Haymitch is the mentor who’s equal parts brilliant strategist and emotionally unavailable chaos creator. In The Hunger Games, he’s a drunken, sarcastic ex-victor who trains Katniss and Peeta with the bare minimum of social grace and the maximum amount of biting truth. ENTP mentors like Haymitch don’t babysit. They don’t sugarcoat. And they definitely don’t care if you like them. Unless they’re trying to find sponsors, of course.

What they do is challenge you. Relentlessly. They’ll provoke, mock, and manipulate their way past your defenses, all while secretly rooting for you. Haymitch teaches survival not with lectures, but with lived experience—and brutally honest reality checks. “You call that a kiss?” he grunts. “Show some emotion, girl.” He knows the game, inside and out, and he’ll break you down if it means you’ll survive.

But underneath all the snark and hangovers? A deep, unshakable loyalty. ENTP mentors will never be warm and fuzzy—but if they choose to invest in you, they’ll fight like hell to see you win. Even if it means throwing a punch or two along the way.

ISFP – Cinna (The Hunger Games)

“I'm not allowed to bet, but if I could, I'd bet on you.”

Cinna isn’t loud. He isn’t flashy (despite designing literal flame dresses). And he doesn’t walk into Katniss’s life with some grand speech or game plan. He just shows up—with quiet eyes, steady hands, and a fierce belief in her when no one else truly sees her. That’s the ISFP mentor: calm, grounded and quietly revolutionary.

In The Hunger Games, Cinna is Katniss’s stylist. But calling him that is like calling a lighthouse a “decorative building.” He doesn’t just dress her—he armors her. With symbolism. With intention. With art that says, “You are more powerful than they realize.” And he never demands the spotlight—he uses it to reflect hers more brightly.

ISFP mentors like Cinna teach you by standing beside you, not in front. They don’t bark orders or deliver motivational monologues. They listen. They trust their hearts (and yours, if they believe in you). And then they act—authentically, meaningfully, and often in defiance of whatever soul-crushing system they’re stuck in. Cinna’s designs are his protest. His quiet loyalty is his rebellion. And his belief in Katniss? Unshakable.

He won’t tell you who to be. He’ll hand you a mirror made of fire and say, “Look. This is what I see.” And somehow, you’ll believe it. ISFP mentors don’t just help you fight—they remind you what you’re fighting for.

ISTP – Mr. Han (The Karate Kid, 2010)

“Your focus needs more focus.”

Mr. Han (played by Jackie Chan in the 2010 remake of The Karate Kid) is the ISTP mentor in full form: quiet, mysterious and deceptively skilled. At first glance, he’s just the handyman. Fixes cars. Keeps to himself. But then suddenly he’s flipping through the air, dismantling a group of bullies with the casual grace of someone brushing lint off his shirt.

ISTPs train through experience. Mr. Han doesn’t just teach Dre how to fight—he teaches him discipline, focus, and the art of stillness through endlessly picking up and hanging up his jacket. (“Jacket on. Jacket off.”) It’s frustrating, slow and kind of infuriating… until it clicks. That’s ISTP mentoring in a nutshell: it seems random until it’s exactly what you needed.

They don’t waste words. They don’t do long lectures. But when the moment comes to act, they are deadly effective. And yeah, they might just have a tragic backstory hidden in their garage. Bring tissues.

ESFP – Jack Dawson (Titanic)

“I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You don't know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you... to make each day count.”

Jack Dawson is the mentor who appears in your life like a whirlwind and completely redefines what it means to live. In Titanic, Jack teaches Rose—an uptight, suffocatingly proper young woman—how to breathe. How to laugh. How to spit off the edge of a ship and feel something again.

ESFP mentors don’t give you rules. They give you freedom. They’ll challenge your fears with a smile and pull you onto the dance floor when you were perfectly content pretending you didn’t have legs. Jack doesn’t have a long-term plan—he lives in the moment, with his whole heart. He listens. He sees people. And he lives, so fully, that it wakes something up in you.

No, he’s not conventional. And sure, he dies in the most debated moment of cinematic floating-debris history. But ESFP mentors like Jack show you how to love boldly, speak truthfully and draw your damn French girls.

ESTP – Maui (Moana)
 

“Do you know who Maui is? Only the greatest demi-god of all the Pacific Islands, with his magical fish hook he slowed down the sun, pulled islands out of the sea, battled monsters! And I should know, because I'm Maui”

Maui struts into Moana like he owns the ocean. (And to be fair, he did lasso the sun.) ESTPs are the charismatic, larger-than-life mentors who teach you by throwing you directly into the chaos. Maui doesn’t hand Moana a guidebook. He sings her a self-congratulatory power ballad and then refuses to help—until she forces his respect.

But beneath the bravado, Maui is layered. He’s a deeply insecure demigod with abandonment wounds and a constant need to prove his worth. And when he does finally start mentoring? He teaches Moana how to be brave, how to master the sea and how to believe in herself—even when he bails halfway through and has to come back with a dramatic entrance.

ESTP mentors are bold, reactive, and clever. They push you to try, to risk, to move. They’re not perfect—but they are unforgettable. And somewhere between the sarcastic banter and the adrenaline-fueled training montage, you realize: they’ve made you stronger than you ever thought you could be.

What Do You Think?

Do you relate to your fictional mentor? Do you have someone else in mind? Maybe you could take this moment as an opportunity to brainstorm some ways you could mentor or encourage someone in your life! Like Dr. Keating said, “Seize the day!”