AUTISM: THE MUSICAL

Marsha over at Sweatpantsmom asked me if Will and I would be interested in going down to Los Angeles to Paramount Studios to watch a screening of this:


AUTISM: THE MUSICAL

And then to write a review of it on my blog.

"In 1980, autism was a relatively rare disorder, diagnosed in one of every 10,000 U.S. children. Today, according to the Centers for Disease Control, one in 150 may be afflicted. AUTISM: THE MUSICAL counters this troubling statistic with the story of five autistic children, their families and the dynamic woman who leads them to defy expectations by writing, rehearsing and performing their own musical. An intimate portrait of these young people and their families as they struggle, and ultimately triumph, through the transformative power of theatre."

So, a week ago Sunday, Will and I were certainly happy to oblige. Although, I was slightly worried that I would be asked to leave the movie theater at some point during the showing. I've been known to laugh at the most inappropriate times. I've even guffawed in the receiving line at a funeral before. Make that plural; funeralS. I've burst out laughing at more than one.

I don't think it's because I'm being insensitive. At least, I sincerely hope not. But rather, it's more of the nervous-laugh thing. It's a defense. If I truly grasp the severity of the situation, I'd crumble. So, my sick-head chooses to laugh inappropriately and deal with the scowls and ridicule and taser guns.

Anyway, I was concerned that I'd laugh at the wrong times and be asked to leave. Or at the very least, be pepper-sprayed.

Well, I DID laugh. A LOT. We both did. In fact, we ALL DID.

And we smiled, proud smiles.

And grimaced and choked back tears, often unsuccessfully.

The film was raw and honest and beautiful.

And the people in it? Nothing short of astonishing.

After the movie, while driving back up north to Santa Barbara, the hills a brilliant green from the Winter rains, dotted with California Poppies and Lupine and some yellow-shit (not really shit, but yellow daisy-like flowers), the setting sun was casting its oranges and reds and pinks far up into the sky invoking the full splendor of a setting sun and I contemplated what seemed less like a documentary and more of an event.

I thought about what worried me; the ridicule that the autistic children face from the "normal" population. From bullies on the playground, or at the park, or at the store and how defenseless they are to them. I stewed about how easy it is for those spineless bullies to pick on someone not quite their size. And I thought about how the parents of these children are fearful of what might happen to them when the parents die.

And I found myself worried for the relationships of the people involved, for the extreme stress that is put on them.

And as worried as I was, I also found hope. Hope that these people, ALL OF THEM, were better off in someway and literally transformed from their experiences. And they found solace from their daily lives in putting on art, by basking in art, by breathing it, by living it. It united them, as it does us all.

And then I thought how we began watching a film about 5 autistic children and their families.

By the end, we had watched a very personal account of five vivacious people: Adam, Henry, Lexi, Neal and Wyatt.

By the end, we had watched a very personal account of their families and the trials and tribulations that they endured and continue to.

By the end, we couldn't stand tall enough in our ovation or clap loud enough in our admiration for all of their fierce spirits.

And by the end, the culmination of my emotions was deep gratitude.



It premieres on HBO, Tuesday, March 25th at 8pm. And if you don't have HBO, they'll be running a live stream for free from their website.