Autism: The Musical

Speaking of being late to the party, I finally got to see Autism: The Musical last night. Twice. I watched it the first time with TH, who was entranced, and I watched it the second time with Mr. DMFP, who also was at least absorbed enough to stay awake until 11:30, in spite of his continued illness. I did mute the part where Wyatt describes repeatedly what "bullies say" but did not have a chance to mute either of the two F-bombs, both of which I did not expect. TH didn't bat an eye or even seem to notice. His sole comment through the entire movie came when Henry was trying to explain why sharks attack surfers. TH sat straight up, extended both arms out to his sides, parallel to the ground, and spreading out his fingers, exclaimed, "I know that, too! I know that same thing about surfers!" He was very happy.

He never once asked me what was "wrong" with a specific child, and he seemed completely comfortable with the meltdowns and other behaviors the movie showed. The only time he became uncomfortable was when the adults were having the big, loud disagreement about Adam and his cello. TH does not like grownups to argue. Sometimes, Mr. DMFP and I will be ranting mutually about something political or some event that just angered us both, and TH will mistake it for arguing and beg us to stop fighting. We frequently find ourselves explaining to him that we are not arguing with each other, but that even if we were, it's OK for people to have disagreements.

Mr. DMFP found the movie more disturbing in some ways than I did. I think that thoughts about what these children face as adults darkened the uplifting parts of the film for him. I noticed that both of Lexi's parents specifically expressed concerns about what would happen to her later in her life, and I wondered if these concerns are even more compelling in many ways for the parents of girls, especially given the reproductive and sexual vulnerability that Lexi's father mentions.

We both agreed that no specific child in the movie reminded us completely of TH, but that different aspects of different children were very very familiar to us. Wyatt was very familiar to us, especially when he said, "That's the mystery in the camera," which sounds just like something TH would say. And every time Wyatt came on screen with his clothes askew, half tucked, half untucked, I laughed because that is exactly how TH looks all the time. Henry's white-blond hair invariably reminded me of our oldest (and youngest) boys. See? Not everything about autistic children has to do with autism.

The one thing that struck me as I watched the movie--and that was probably a main point of the doc--was that these children were no more cookie-cutter manifestations of a "disease" than any group of children on a playground would be cookie-cutter productions of a "child." Every single child in this film had a unique personality that accompanied the autism, and the interviews with the parents (where adoption was not involved) made clear exactly where those personalities come from. The most obvious example was Adam and his mother. It's easy to see where Adam gets his imperiousness, his temperament, his charisma. Yes, he's autistic. But he was no more like the other children in that group than the adults in that room were like the other adults.

The film shows dozens of scenes of these children with their parents, and usually, the parent is the mother. As I watched the obvious connection these moms have with their children, I recognized in their interaction the same relationship I have with TH. Maybe expressive language or linear communication isn't his strong suit, but he and I communicate clearly with each other in ways that I saw repeated over and over again in this movie. There's the physical closeness that only a mother could love, the transient unblinking contact between two pairs of eyes, the leaning of the hypotonic trunk, the crooked, marionette arms tangled up with mom's arms...it all looked so familiar to me.

At one point in the movie, in the days before the kids' performance, the parents gathered together in a room, and their mutual experiences naturally led to some emotional discussion. The speech that stayed with me the longest was the passionate commentary from Lexi's mother about valuing autistic people in the same way we value neurotypical people. Listening to Lexi sing, I kept thinking that a girl with her talent should be able to use that talent, that if she weren't autistic, she'd be in some arts magnet school somewhere, singing her heart out. Her mother is right: a child who can sing like that shouldn't be sweeping floors at McDonald's. She should be singing. Lexi wants to be like Britney Spears, but what she probably doesn't realize and may not ever really understand is that she already has a far better voice than Britney Spears, and no one would want to live the kind of life Ms. Spears currently endures. In addition to her agile, clear voice, Lexi also proved to be a delightful and engaging performer. That child needs to find more expression through that talent.

I won't describe each and every child--I'll leave that to the movie for those who haven't yet seen it. But the way the film demonstrated how their personalities--and not their autism--defined them was such an important message that I hope millions and millions of people tune in over the upcoming days to catch this candid and truthtelling film about families living with autistic children.