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Posted by lightfoot on Sunday, April 13, 2008 (02:01:20)
David Wiegand, Chronicle Staff Writer
Autism: The Musical: Documentary. Directed by Tricia Regan. Repeated broadcasts through April 27 on HBO.
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What causes autism and why is the incidence of it in America's children rising at such an alarming rate? The statistics are nothing less than terrifying: In 1980, one out of every 10,000 American kids was said to have the disorder. Today, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimates that one in 150 kids may be affected.
Is there a link between routine childhood inoculations and the onset of the disorder? A recent federal court ruling in the case of a 9-year-old girl re-energized the debate about the role of inoculations when it concluded that the girl's "pre-existing mitochondrial disorder" was "aggravated" by childhood shots.
You'll find very little of that raging public discussion in Tricia Regan's gentle and revealing film with the ironic title of "Autism: The Musical." Instead, you will find very beautiful, very special children, all of whom may have autism, but whose lives and personalities are as distinct from one another as any group of kids' lives are.
The funny title comes from the film's focus on a seemingly nutty plan by Elaine Hall, the mother of an autistic boy, to gather a bunch of kids together to put on a show. Say, "Hey, kids, let's put on a show" and you've got your hands full with any group of children. But there's a special challenge when the kids are autistic. Some, like Hall's son Neal, whom she adopted when he was just a toddler in his native Russia, barely speak at all and have to be repeatedly coached to make eye contact when they are spoken to. In the film, after Neal has played a bit too strenuously with a younger, smaller boy, his mother reprimands him by pointing to her own nose: "Neal, look at me. Here, Neal. Look at me."
Like many parents of autistic kids, Hall didn't have much of a choice when it came to getting involved in the issue. Raising an autistic child takes extra, well, everything, but it also means you probably need to be in touch with the parents of other autistic kids for support. In Hall's case, it also meant founding the Miracle Project as a way of trying to find new ways to reach autistic kids. A writer and acting coach (for the kids in "Akeelah and the Bee"), Hall decided that an original musical, starring autistic kids, was just the ticket.
Film director Tricia Regan focuses on five of the kids in the production: In addition to Neal, they include Lexi, a young teenage girl with a lovely singing voice who can mimic seemingly anything she hears but has limited cognitive skills; Henry, a "high-functioning" child (whose dad, by the way, is Stephen Stills) with an encyclopedic knowledge of dinosaurs and reptiles; Adam, a young cellist who, even at 9, is a babe magnet; and Wyatt, an extraordinarily verbal kid who could have given Bill Buckley props on conversation but who is apparently the victim of bullying at school.
The kids are unguarded at all times, but, often, so are their parents, which allows us to appreciate the challenges of raising an autistic kid. We see the strain, for example, in the marriage of Adam's parents, Rosanne and Richard. A former actress and Playboy model, Rosanne is a maternal warrior. When she thinks Adam isn't being allowed full participation in the musical, she instantly transforms into a Momma Rose. But before we can dismiss her as just another stage mother, she reminds us of what she learned in the civil rights movement, that "it's not enough for you to be doing better. Your whole tribe has to do better." For his part, Richard resents that Rosanne has made Adam her whole world.
One of the strengths of the film is that Regan's unfettered access allows her to include so many informative details without having to resort to preaching. We see what a parent goes through raising an autistic kid and, yes, one parent refers to the link to childhood vaccinations, which is enough to remind us of the public debate on the causes of autism. We see the paralysis in a father's eyes as his wife becomes obsessed with every detail of their child's life, and we don't need to hear him say he feels neglected. We also begin to understand a kind of guilt that motivates some parents, although in different ways. We sense that guilt may be a reason that one of the dads distances himself from the issues, and may have something to do with why his wife makes their child her entire life. When the father eventually moves out of the home, the wife tells the camera that she's angry, but the look in her eyes tells us that her husband is a convenient, momentary target for the anger she feels at the world, or whatever caused her to have an autistic kid. Sometimes, the parents can't help themselves and we see their frustration mixed with guilt directed at their children.
The real heart and soul of the film are the children. We watch them jam their fingers into their ears because of their sensitivity to loud noises, or run wildly in circles, or roll back and forth on the floor, and know that in some ways, the world is too much with them. But, at the same time, Hall and the Miracle Project easily persuade us to at least re-examine how we define "normal." There is an emotional purity to these kids, a special joy to their lives, something, at times, almost enviable.
Like any good backstage musical, "Autism: The Musical" ends with the show itself, the triumph of art over particular adversity. If you've felt sorry that these children aren't like other kids, by the end of the film, you may also feel sorry that you can't experience just a bit of their obvious happiness in performing, and just being kids.
San Fransisco Chronicle
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