“Disability” is a very taboo term, to say the least. So is the treatment of developmental conditions on screen, a topic which I aim to discuss in this article. First of all, I want to discuss the term “disability”, which is of course used in public legislation and discourse of all types, and rarely offends. However, negative connotations remain attached to the word. Conditions such as Autism, Down’s Syndrome, Fragile X Syndrome etc. are smothered by a slew of harsh “d” words which seem to entirely signify them: “Developmental disorder”, “defect”, “deficit”, “delayed”. Therefore, I firmly believe that the way in which these conditions are described lead the general public to subconsciously perceive Autistic people, for example, as somewhat “abnormal” or “inferior” to those who do not have their identities constrained by such constructed labels. Individuals with these conditions have a shadow of derogatory terms cast upon their  potential. Further, there is increasing evidence that the entertainment industry as a platform does not offer many opportunities to people with “intellectual disabilities”, hence why the presence of these actors onscreen is fundamental to improving both visibility and accessibility. Film and TV are ideological tools which influence our worldviews, and thus can enable and enrich our awareness and understanding of these conditions, as opposed to promoting suffocating stereotypes. 

It is no secret, however, that intellectual disability lacks fundamental representation onscreen. For example, the list of recognisable actors who are on the Autism spectrum is diminutive, mainly composed of a few who possess symptoms of Asperger’s syndrome such as Anthony Hopkins or Dan Aykroyd. However, when this representation is present, it can be identified one of two different types – intellectual disability being the primordial theme of the plot, or intellectual disability simply being  an element interwoven into a narrative of different overarching themes and ideas. A primary example of intellectual disability forming the central idea of a plot is presented with the 1996 Belgian arthouse film The Eighth Day, telling the story of an overworked salesman who forms an unlikely friendship with a Down’s Syndrome man, who inhabits a mental institution. While not widely-known among English-speaking audiences, this touching and funny drama provided the mainstream with respectful insight into intellectual conditions. Georges, who has Down’s Syndrome, is able to form a mutually enriching friendship with a troubled workaholic – who learns important lessons from Georges, such as the importance of appreciating the simpler things in life. Indeed, the film was seismic enough to win the César Award for best actor in a main role for Down’s Syndrome actor Pascal Duquenne. An almost jarringly opposite example of such representation is the gross-out 2005 comedy The Ringer, starring Johnny Knoxville which tells the story of a man who rigs the Special Olympics and pretends to be a participant to earn money for a friend’s operation.  The film’s controversial premise was likely an exploitative marketing tactic, and between its uncomfortably crude humour and predictable screenplay, The Ringer  is not a movie  which will be remembered as a cinematic godpiece. Yet, it received praise for humanising, not undermining, the characters who are Special Olympics participants – critic Felix Vasquez, from the online blog Cinema Crazed, highlights that these characters are “not caricatures, or objects to laugh at”, but instead are “actual people with personalities that do not revolve around their disabilities”. Indeed, this film includes more than 150 people with developmental disabilities in supporting roles – a feat that much of cinema today has not accomplished.

The implementation of developmental disability into the narrative of a film or TV series does not have to be central to it. The storylines of these characters can be a visible thread which runs through the knitwork of the narrative, adding colour and appeal, as well as increasing the insight of viewers. For example, several seasons of American Horror Story feature an actress with Down’s Syndrome in a recurring role. Actress Jamie Brewer spoke of how much she enjoyed “learning all the fundamentals of being part of a thrilling TV show”. Also starring in a popular U.S. series is Down’s Syndrome actress Lauren Potter, who plays the exuberant Becky Jackson in Glee. Both actresses have been praised for their performances, and for how naturally they blended in with the rest of the cast with their respective storylines. Indeed, these storylines added much appeal and dramatic flair to their shows. However, it was actor Chris Burke who seemed to pioneer the greater inclusion of actors with Down’s Syndrome on screen. His trailblazing performance as “Corky” on the U.S. series Life Goes On (1989-1993) completely revolutionised the mainstream outlook on intellectual conditions such as Down’s Syndrome, and capsized negative stereotypes. Burke was the first actor with Down’s Syndrome to feature in a network series. Yet in spite of this, Corky is portrayed to lead a relatively normal life, as he attends regular classes and experiences relationships, while he is supported by a family who help him to realise his position within society. Corky’s character obliterates the myths that having Down’s Syndrome stops you from learning, stops you from having relationships, and naturally confines you to the lower ranks of society as an outcast. While powerful,  menacing ideological forces like governmental discrimination and negative attitudes may have promoted these notions, and therefore influenced mainstream thought, these television series promoted a seemingly subversive, yet positive and realistic portrayal of Down’s Syndrome. It is also noteworthy that all of the actors mentioned above are equally Down’s Syndrome advocates and members of Special Olympics committees. Therefore, their status as actors has empowered them to stand up for increased opportunities for all people with intellectual conditions. Another interesting inclusion of a developmental condition in a U.S. series is RJ Mitte’s portrayal of Walter Jr. White in the widely-acclaimed thriller series Breaking Bad, the son of protagonist Walter, who has cerebral palsy. Mitte also has the condition, and starring on one of the most critically-acclaimed series of all time has provided him with a huge platform to become a spokesperson for actors with disabilities – his excellent performance demonstrates how well and how  realistically he fits into the dysfunctional White family within a complex suburban world. 

To conclude, these acting portrayals remind us of the integrity and creative potential of these people, and how they can be so much more than a sum of their “special” needs. Indeed, Corky’s needs in Life Goes On are not so special at all – he struggles with maths. He struggles socially. He needs a bit of extra help. Tell me, are these needs unique to individuals with Down’s Syndrome? What’s more, the manner by which these characters are involved onscreen demonstrates their place in society, and how they can contribute to their communities. Because these people can display traits which are somewhat different to the grand majority, they are immediately perceived as “deficient”. Indeed, this stance resonates among supporters of Autistic culture, who claim that Autistic people simply have a different perspective. This is a powerful example of how difference does not always mean deficiency. Therefore, the influential mediums of film and TV may  help suggest ways in which society can be adapted to empower these individuals, rather than alienate, institutionalise and oppress them. The entertainment industry is a great place to start this battle, which is not about charity or sympathy but rather acceptance and accessibility.