Hear more from tt stern-enzi on this topic in this episode of Cincinnati Edition.
I have spent over 20 years thinking and writing about what it means to be seen and heard for who I am. Over the course of that time, I have watched as the next generation of leaders and activists from a variety of underrepresented communities have emerged to challenge the images that have come to define our culture and society.
"Nothing about us without us" is a rallying cry, most recently pronounced among the disability community as efforts are made to guarantee greater representation in front of and behind the camera as narratives about the community advance. A new report (“Audiences Are Waiting for Hollywood to Greenlight Disability”) from Inevitable Foundation, , “found that 66% of audiences are unsatisfied with current representations of disability and mental health in film and TV.” In terms of the most basic data, 35% of people with disabilities watch 20+ hours of television per week (as opposed to 25% of people without disabilities reaching that level of engagement).
There is an easy and obvious demand in these numbers. Audiences are eager to find and support greater and more authentic representations of people with disabilities on screens, both big and small. And additionally, festivals and art house theaters are recognizing that their programming needs to expand accessibility as well. In a recent Instagram post, FWD-Doc and Film Event Accessibility just recognized the upcoming 2024 edition of the BlackStar Film Festival in Philadelphia for their work to create a more open and inclusive experience for all festival attendees, which will feature ASL interpretation at all panels and post-film Q&As, open captioning or subtitles for all in-person films, closed captioning for all virtual films, and audio descriptions available for select in-person and online film programs.
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As a film critic and festival organizer, I am constantly learning from others in the industry, especially members of the disability community, and find that the challenge tends to start with the programming: the films and shows presented to us. What can we do to push for authentic and holistic portrayals of people with disabilities? Early on, I felt stymied by what felt like an inherent production ceiling that allowed for documentary tropes — primarily, the overcoming disability storylines — rather than a more honest exploration of characters with disabilities beyond their version of the “magical Negro” characters (think Rain Man) familiar to Black audiences for far too long?
I have been heartened, to an extent, by new films like the upcoming Netflix release, "," which premiered at Sundance in January and explores the life of a Norwegian gamer with a degenerative muscular disease who was able to have and enjoy a dynamic and vibrant life in "World of Warcraft." The film captures this through an animated second half that takes place in the world of the game as he interacts with other players from around Europe.
With such an intriguing example to kick things off, I want to explore other challenging titles as Disability Pride Month nears its end. The month celebrates the passage of the Americans With Disabilities Act of 1990 and offers a perfect opportunity to spotlight where the industry is and hopefully where it is headed.
CODA (2021)
This film would seem to stand out as a major triumph for me as an ally for disability representation. As artistic director of the Over-the-Rhine International Film Festival in July 2021, my team and I began courting Apple TV+ as soon as it was confirmed they had acquired CODA during its premiere run at Sundance. I saw the film and knew immediately it would be a knockout choice for a featured spot in our lineup that summer. We were elated to land the film as our closing night film, which would screen on the lawn of Washington Park. Despite the fact that a torrential downpour started about 40 minutes into the screening, we were able to provide virtual access to all ticketholders. Of course, we were fortunate enough to have photos and video of a lawn full of attendees enjoying the film before the rain. CODA closed out that year’s festival on a true high note, three weeks before it began streaming and proceeded to go on an amazing awards season run that capped off with three Academy Awards.
of La Famile Belier, a 2014 French-Belgium film that experienced blowback from the deaf community since two of its lead actors playing deaf characters were not, in fact, deaf. The film also presented problems for deaf audiences who couldn’t follow the signing, since it was not official French Sign Language. The original film won awards (six César nominations and one win) and had healthy box office returns (the second-highest grossing film that year in France), but Sian Heder’s remake sought to address the concerns of the deaf community more directly, by hiring Academy Award winner Marlee Matlin and Troy Kotsur (who went on to earn Best Supporting Actor honors at the Academy Awards).
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Two years after the film’s run, I attended a panel on accessibility onscreen and listened intently to a speaker discuss how CODA, for all its good intentions, still failed to completely represent a child of deaf adults. It was pointed out that the signing of Emilia Jones (who plays the only hearing child of her four-person nuclear family) was not as expressively authentic for someone who had grown up around deaf signers. This was a fact that I, as a hearing person, would never have picked up on, but it made me rethink the presentation of such experiences on all of our screens. This anecdote illustrates how representation is a journey that requires connections for fuller understanding.
Children of a Lesser God (1986)
The only way to follow up on the complex success of CODA is to go back to . Director Randa Haines’ powerful romantic drama details the relationship between a new speech teacher (William Hurt) at a school for the deaf, who falls for the janitor (Marlee Matlin), a deaf woman who purposefully chooses to not speak. The sense of agency in Matlin’s character is surprising for its time, but it is Matlin’s performance that is one for the ages. Blazingly intense, Matlin commanded the screen and raced off to win Best Actress in a Leading Role for the performance — a first for a deaf performer. As a young cinephile, I remember the film quite well, what it felt like to watch Matlin. Her signing spoke to me on an instinctual level. There was never a moment when I didn’t know exactly what she was experiencing and how she felt. It was — and remains, for me — an acting standard.
Daredevil (2015-2018 Netflix series)
Comic book fans know the story of Daredevil. By day, he’s Matt Murdock, a blind lawyer who defends the downtrodden community of Hell’s Kitchen in New York City. At night, he fights crime in the streets as Daredevil, the Man Without Fear. As a young child, Matt, the son of low-rent boxer and sometime criminal enforcer Jack Murdock, was blinded by toxic chemicals that heightened his other senses. After focused training, Matt was able to become a premier hero despite not having traditional powers and abilities like super strength, invulnerability or flight. There is no way to truly and authentically represent Matt’s blindness throughout his journey onscreen, but Charlie Cox and the behind-the-scenes team on the series create a version of the character that embraces the impossible nature of his abilities with certainty and care, while giving fans the high-octane action one would expect from such a character.
ran for three seasons and — after likely stringent negotiations — was made canon by Marvel and will now continue with Cox and most of the cast returning for a new Disney extension ("Daredevil: Born Again") in 2025.
Echo (2024 Disney series)
at featuring stories with leads with disabilities and adds in layers of intersectionality to round out the character and the narrative. As the titular hero, Maya Lopez (Alaqua Cox) lost her criminal-minded father and was raised by Wilson Fisk, a k a The Kingpin (Vincent D’Onofrio) in the New York underworld. Not only is Maya an amputee and deaf, but she is also Native American, which presents a moving rationale for her spiritual powers that go far beyond the intense fight training she received under The Kingpin.
It is interesting that Marvel as a major producer of comic narratives has produced several characters with disabilities that tend to work well on the page but prove to be a bit more difficult to translate in live action adaptations. Cox fully embodies the character of Echo and proves more than capable of engaging in the extensive fight choreography without missing a beat. She will hopefully be seen as a model for future projects.
Ramy (2019-2022 Hulu series)
about a young man in New Jersey who is the child of Egyptian immigrants. He struggles to maintain a connection to his spiritual and familial roots while navigating life in the United States. What is truly fascinating about Ramy, though, is how naturally (and organically) diverse his friends and family are. Included among this motley crew is Steve (Steve Way), a childhood friend who happens to be a wheelchair user and is not simply on hand to illustrate how well-intended Ramy might be. Steve is just as rowdy and raucous as any of Ramy’s friends. He is a part of the ensemble, rather than feeling like a mascot or a prop to further define the protagonist.
When we talk about representation, this seems to be the goal, at least on paper, but rarely are such inclusions and portrayals handled as matter-of-factly as here. It is a testament to intersectionality that this works within the larger context of Ramy’s journey as a Muslim and person of color in America today.
Atypical (2017-2021 Netflix series)
I was drawn to (Keir Gilchrist), a high school student on the autism spectrum who decides the time has come for him to find a girlfriend. Embarking on this quite typical coming-of-age journey leads him (and the audience) to realize that his own life, experiences and perceived limitations might not be all that different than anyone else’s, especially those of his close friends and family. Through his perspective, we see the quirks and oddball traits of his family members and how these dysfunctions are not that unusual.
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As elements of his life and the growing sense of freedom and independence he’s developing emerge, that is all juxtaposed against the deeply traumatic failings of his parents (Michael Rapaport and Jennifer Jason Leigh) and the ongoing issues his slightly more neurotypical sister Casey (Brigette Lundy-Paine) faces in comparison. Misconceptions abound in most interactions, but the series has less of the broad comedic hijinks one would expect. Instead, autism provides a window for reflection for all of us.
