An introduction to cultural imagination
This essay, which in no way claims to be exhaustive, moves from cultural representations of disability, studies that represent “The way in which scholars in the social and cultural sciences became interested in language in the 1970s and in speech in the 1980s”[1] and which, within the framework of semiotic studies, continue to understand how cinema, literature, and advertising contribute to defining cultural imagination. This is an imagination that is inevitably underlying the canons and attitudes that societies, in their acceptation of systems composed of social actors in relation to one another,[2] convey with respect to disability, understood as a “social problem”.[3] From a sociological point of view, in fact, the issue of disability as a social problem has alternated between multiple approaches,[4] which at times have considered it as a form of involuntary deviance,[5] and at others as a true form of social stigma,[6] to finally establish it as a true social model.[7] This differentiation is useful because it allows me to dwell upon cinema by trying to identify different genres, eras and forms of disability to offer at least a perspective of the presence of audiovisual narratives on disability.
Stories about disability in the audiovisual scenario have most often been relegated to a rigid genre: drama. The condition of people with disabilities has been depicted in the logic of dis-empowerment, of deficiency. Such descriptions seem to refer back to the so-called “medical model of disability”, which “is based on a naturalistic conception of disability as being dependent upon impairments at the biological level of the organism”.[8] However, this trend is probably influenced by a cultural approach related to the idea of a high-performing society and an unbalanced view of economics in the logic of profit, without any attention towards the individual, the community. The focus on performance and profit, on the other hand, are phenomena that characterize contemporary society, defined by Zygmunt Bauman as liquid modernity[9] to emphasize its highly tricky, individualized, uncertain, vulnerable and contradictory structure. So, “by closely observing our contemporary societies – says Pope Francis – we see numerous contradictions that lead us to wonder whether the equal dignity of all human beings […] is truly recognized, respected, protected and promoted in every situation. In today’s world, many forms of injustice persist, fed by reductive anthropological visions and by a profit-based economic model that does not hesitate to exploit, discard and even kill human beings”.[10]
The beginning of the new Millennium brings with it some novelties. In fact, both cinema and TV have begun to tell the story of people with disabilities and of the various forms of disability, by resorting primarily to genres other than drama, staging stories bearing the characteristics of thriller, fantasy, action, or cartoon films.
The approach towards audiovisual forms of language reminds us how cinema has a dual function: one of representation and the other of regulation.[11] That is, not only does it reflect society, but in some way it also restores us with the keys to interpret the same elements put into the picture. In other words, cinema helps us to look at the dimension of reality, moving our vision even in unthinkable directions, and on the other hand, in doing so, it inevitably ends up conditioning our outlook by suggesting what to observe, and “arbitrarily” deciding what is destined to remain out of the picture. This is sort of what has happened in terms of the meanings that different societies have attributed to disability, reflecting in them the multiple configurations of social control, the varied forms of conditioning that social structures have often imposed on individuals, oppressing and discriminating them against their ability to have meaningful social relationships.
Of course, this approach prompts a matter that cannot be ruled out – that is, the effects of cultural representations on society. As a matter of fact, today, in light of studies about the theory of social effects of mass media, no one could imagine the relationship between stories and society according to a behaviorist paradigm. Therefore, “representations in general have a kind of indirect effect on the fate of disabled people”.[12]
Disability in films that break with tradition
A film that marked a distinct change regarding storytelling on the condition of disability is the comedy film Intouchables, 2012, directed by French directors Olivier Nakache and Éric Toledano. Intouchables takes its moves from a real story as told in the book The Guardian Devil by Philippe Pozzo di Borgo.
Directors Nakache and Toledano primarily outline a collective story, depicted with brilliant humor, about two people living on the edge of life. Two kinds of loneliness. Two individuals worn out by the events and closed up. However, their encounter marks the beginning of a change: together they pick up the pieces of their fragile and unhappy lives trying to put themselves back in the game, discovering the many possibilities still open for the future.
In the film, Driss is a young man of African descent in his 30s, who lives like so many fellow countrymen in today’s France, seeking his fortune. Driss’ expectations are tiresome from the beginning; he no longer believes there are opportunities for redemption. He drags himself along a faded path without a glimmer of optimism, taking what he can get. His meeting with Philippe throws him off balance: for the first time, a person wants to hire him, because he sees abilities, talents in him. Philippe places continuous cultural stimuli before him, inviting him to want and demand more of himself, to strive to be happy. Alongside Philippe, Driss discovers the meaning of kindness, of closeness, as well as the beauty of art, culture, and the importance of education.
On the other hand, there is Philippe, who initially looks to Driss as being a powerful diversion, a breath of fresh air compared to days spent in resignation. Philippe is a wealthy, educated, and accomplished man. He no longer feels capable of leading a full life; he can no longer hope and struggle. He surrenders to the repetition of the days, using money to soothe his anxieties. He approaches Driss with great curiosity and a desire to revolutionize the course of his days. What he does not expect, however, is that this immigrant from the suburbs would turn his life upside down, forcing him to learn about himself, to face his unresolved problems head-on and to come to terms with his condition. Driss helps him to see disability not as a limitation and to renew his outlook on it. Indeed, thanks to him, Philippe understands that despite his quadriplegia, he is still a man, he still has opportunities, starting with love. What Driss and Philippe have is a friendship that heals wounds and reconciles, a friendship that restores by opening to change.
Directors Nakache and Toledano are good at keeping the story balanced between drama and comedy, without the film slipping too far to one side or the other; they allow the spectator to approach a story full of pain without ever losing a glimpse of hope.
An equally significant resonance can be found for the comedy-drama film Coda (2021) by Sian Heder, a Hollywood film that began as a successful remake of the popular French comedy, La Famille Bélier (2015) by Éric Lartigau. The film centers around the hearing disability condition of a family. Coda started out on the U.S. distribution market as an independent film; being highly acclaimed and through word-of-mouth, it was then endorsed by the giant streaming company Apple TV+, which took it all the way to the “night of the stars”: in 2022 it won three important awards at the 94th Academy Awards, winning in the categories of best picture, Troy Kotsur as supporting actor, and non-original screenplay by director Heder.
Here is the story. United States, present-day Massachusetts, in a small coastal town not too far from Boston there lives the Rossi family: father Frank, mother Jackie, and their two children, 20-year-old Leo and high school student Ruby. Everyone in the family has been deaf since birth except Ruby, who is effectively the Rossi’s link to the local community. The family runs a fishing business and is part of a consortium. Enrolling in the school choir, directed by Prof. Bernardo Villalobos, Ruby realizes that she has a distinct gift for singing, and so she cultivates her dream of auditioning at the prestigious Berklee College of Music. When at home the family discovers the girl’s intentions, the Rossi’s come to a standstill, between the fear of Ruby’s possible move to Boston and the bewilderment of no longer having her as a support in community relations.
Throughout the story’s structure, in particular, the feelings of (mutual) fear and prejudice between the Rossi’s and the local community are emphasized. Frank and Jackie look at others with suspicion, because they fear that they will not be understood and welcomed, precisely because of their being deaf; Jackie relates with insecurity to the other women in the consortium, convinced that they judge her, that they intentionally marginalize her. There are unfounded impressions that generate the family’s (self-)isolation.
Other outstanding elements of the Hollywood version of La Famille Bélier include the relationship between the two siblings, Leo and Ruby, which is decidedly more articulate and multi-faceted, such as the one with the music teacher, Prof. Villalobos, or with the friend – who is in love – Miles. It is worth noting that in the U.S. film for the role of Ruby’s family members, all genuinely hearing-impaired actors were involved, particularly Troy Kotsur and Marlee Matlin, the latter the Academy Award winner in 1987 for Children of a Lesser God.
On the topic of hearing impairment, another film to emphasize is the intense Sound of Metal (2020), the first feature film by screenwriter Darius Marder. Despite its troubled distribution process, complicated by the Covid-19 pandemic, Sound of Metal gained high visibility on the Prime Video platform. What turned the spotlight on this work, however, were the Academy Awards in 2021: the film was in the running for 6 Oscars, won in the editing and sound categories. And it was precisely the sound editing that was the most beautiful feature of the work, yes because Sound of Metal is a rough and evocative journey into the existence of a musician, a hard rock drummer, who all of a sudden is overcome by deafness. He finds himself enveloped in silence and must relearn the grammar of communication.
This is the story of Ruben and Lou, a rock music duo that performs across the country, moving from one venue to another; he plays drums, she is the lead vocalist. During a concert Ruben is affected by an increasing buzzing sound. He goes to the pharmacy and has a specialist prescribe an examination, and the diagnosis is without appeal: irreversible hearing loss. Ruben plunges into silence and despair. Spurred to react by his companion, the young man goes to a shelter run by former veteran, Joe. The young man desperately pursues the possibility of surgery, capable of partially restoring his hearing; Joe shakes him and urges him not to see himself as a defective or broken human being. Finally, Joe leads Ruben, who is definitely an atheist, to discover the dimension of silence, to inhabit it with a renewed gaze: a space where sound is missing but God’s voice and His presence can be clearly perceived. In the end, we do not know whether Ruben will decide to listen to that Voice, but he will certainly no longer be able to ignore its presence. The young man will thus learn to no longer be afraid of silence, discovering unprecedented perspectives towards life as well.
Hollywood recently came up with another remake: we are talking about Bobby Farrelly’s Champions (2023), an adaptation of the Spanish comedy Campeones (2018) by Javier Fesser, Goya Award for Best Picture. A story that focuses on sports and disability, through the filter of social comedy with a brilliant edge that aims at eradicating prejudices and clichés about people with Down syndrome.
Marcus is a minor league basketball coach looking for a gateway to the NBA championship. His temper and outbursts of anger, however, do not help him. He loses his job and, while drunk-driving, he crashes into a police patrol car: so he is sentenced to serve 90 days of community service coaching a team of young people with intellectual disabilities, the Friends. Reluctantly Marcus shows up at the new gym, thinking about how to get out of that dead end, but meeting the Friends will make him reconsider, sparking in him a slow and irreversible journey of change, of redemption...
Champions moves along the plot-connection between sports and people with disabilities from an educational perspective (similar to Volfango De Biasi’s Crazy for Football of 2021), with the goal of original storytelling about disability. Indeed, the comedy, between crackling jokes and enthralling scenes, emphasizes how children with Down syndrome have the right to have a job, economic and housing independence, including the possibility to experience romantic relationships and express their sexuality. In short, they are people who claim the right to a full life, without compromises.
It's a portrait of society that plays out between realism and dreams of inclusion beyond the barriers of prejudice. Along with the effective lead actor Woody Harrelson, the true stars of Champions are the young people who play the Friends. Like them, the Italian dubbers all have Down syndrome.
Italian storytelling between innovation and kind humor
There is no shortage of examples of disability storytelling in Italy. First of all, one of the starring series of the Rai 2023-24 season, is Blanca (2021, 2023), a Lux Vide and Rai Fiction production, directed by Jan Maria Michelini and Michele Soavi. The story in short: present-day Genoa, Blanca Ferrando (Maria Chiara Giannetta) is a young woman in her 30s, who works at the San Teodoro police station. She has an extraordinary talent for analyzing details at the crime scene, skills looked upon with suspicion by her colleagues: many doubt her because she has a visual disability. Inspector Michele Liguori (Giuseppe Zeno) supports her, while Commissioner Mauro Bacigalupo (Enzo Paci) openly disapproves of her.
Blanca is a young woman with a visual disability, who moves through her private life and work with great confidence, determination, and also constant (self)irony. She does not hide behind her disability, and on the contrary she jokes about it making sure that she is never treated differently. Alongside her is her loyal dog Linnaeus, an American bulldog, as well as Inspector Liguori.
In the series, the various vertical and horizontal threads work, following both the crime-mystery genre and at the same time with shades of comedy and sentiment. What also particularly works well in Blanca is the dynamics of storytelling, the direction, which is indeed lively and fresh, even innovative, convincingly looking to Anglo-American narrative models. Directors Jan Maria Michelini and Michele Soavi govern the structure of the story with originality and control, pushing above all on some fortunate visual choices: they manage to give voice, substance, to Blanca’s thoughts, to her feelings as a blind person. There are moments when the protagonist is abstract, somewhere between the real and the dream-like world, scenes that veer towards black, reflecting the woman's inner world, her moment of deduction.
A film that certainly left its mark is Gabriele Salvatores’ Volare [Tutto il mio folle amore] (2019), a comedy with dramatic overtones that veers, however, towards the direction of a fairy tale, tackling the themes of family, parent-child relationships and the autism spectrum disorder. Presented out of competition at the 76th Venice Biennale Film Festival, the film starring Claudio Santamaria, Valeria Golino, Diego Abatantuono and Giulio Pranno takes its cue from Fulvio Ervas’ novel Se ti abbraccio non avere paura [Don’t be afraid if I hug you], from the true story of Andrea and Franco Antonello.
In short: Northern Italy, Vincent is a 16-year-old boy with autism spectrum disorder; his name comes from the song Vincent by Don McLean dedicated to the painter Van Gogh, a song that links him to his father Willy, a singer he has never met and who tours giving concerts around Italy and the Balkan area. Vincent grew up with his mother Elena and adoptive father Mario; he is loved, supported and motivated. However, his father’s absence is upsetting. One day, finding himself in the area, Willy decides to visit Elena and discovers Vincent; he discovers he has a now 16-year-old son with disabilities. At first he is surprised, disoriented. Reluctant to accept responsibility, Willy decides to go back on the road to continue his quiet life between dance halls; however, it is Vincent who turns the tables, sneaking into his father’s car and setting off with him on an adventure between Croatia and Slovenia. It is an opportunity for the two to get to know each other, slowly reknitting the frayed threads of that never-to-be-forgotten bond...
Sixteen-year-old Vincent’s disability in the film is not the problem; the true problem is parental responsibility, the need to re-center oneself in the educational role, re-establishing the bond with one’s child. The one experiencing a condition of “disability” in the story is primarily the father Willy, who has always been reluctant to take responsibility. Willy is an aimless 40-year-old, a music wanderer, who in a moment of hesitation retraces the steps of his own existence. He discovers that he is a father, a role that can no longer be silenced, marginalized: the time has come for Willy to look inside himself and discover that he is no longer alone, or a free spirit, instead, he has someone he needs to take care of, his son, who needs his words and presence. As a father, Willy must learn to know Vincent, to understand different ways and dynamics of communication, dictated by his disability, but also by his character.
* * *
A director, who has long been in the forefront of telling stories about disability using a different approach, far from easy pietism, is Silvio Soldini. First of all, we remember his two documentaries: in 2013, Per altri occhi. Avventure quotidiane di un manipolo di ciechi [For Other Eyes – the Everyday Adventures of a Handful of Blind People], followed the year afterwards by Un albero indiano [An Indian Tree], about a trip to India with his friend, the blind sculptor Felice Tagliaferri. In 2017 he directed the film Il colore nascosto delle cose [The hidden color of things], starring Valeria Golino and Adriano Giannini, which was presented out of competition at the 74th Venice Biennale Film Festival. It is a successful portrait of a free and resolute woman, on a professional and relational-existential level, beyond her visual disability.
A brief synopsis: Milan, Emma is a 40-year-old blind woman who lost her sight during adolescence. However, she still leads a full and purposeful life, with professional gratifications, as an osteopath, and solid emotional ties. One day in her studio she meets Teo, a 40-year-old publicist with an uncertain and unruly life, who with his partner Greta is living a flat relationship that is dangling from a thread. Teo undergoes a series of medical sessions with Emma, and these encounters become opportunities to get to know each other better. He is surprised by the woman’s confidence, so serene and free, despite her disability. A tender and strong bond is born between them, destined to complicate both their lives. Or perhaps to improve them...
This is how Soldini remarked, “It was a world that I was not aware of and that amazed me; I discovered people full of life and irony, who despite their handicap work, play sports, travel... I then realized that I had never seen any of this in cinema, that blind people were often portrayed dramatically, predictably, or with almost super-powers. So I decided to film a love story with a blind woman as occurs in real life. I wanted to tell about the meeting between two very distant worlds, about a man making a change, about the courage to face life, lightly and deeply. And to tell the story about Emma and Teo as if they were two of us, two of our friends”.
From this brief overview, clear signals emerge from the world of cinema, of culture, regarding a change of approach toward disability. A suggestion, an invitation, that needs to be discerned more and more in everyday life. As Pope Francis reminds us: “Disability, in any form, represents a challenge and an opportunity to build together a more inclusive and civil society [...]. For this reason, it is necessary to continue to raise awareness of various aspects of the disability, dismantling prejudices and promoting a culture of inclusion and belonging, based on the dignity of the person. It is the dignity of all the most fragile and vulnerable men and women, too often marginalized as they are labelled as different or even useless, whereas in reality they are a great wealth for society”.[13]
[1] T. Shakespeare, Disabilità e società [Disability and Society], Erickson, Treno 2024, p. 76 in Italian [Free translation].
[2] P. Ammassari, I fondamentali problemi di metodologia della ricerca sociale, in Studi di Sociologia, n. 2-3, 1985, pp. 176-193.
[3] W. Griswold, Sociologia della cultura [The Sociology of Culture], Il Mulino, Bologna 1997.
[4] For a sociological reconstruction of such paradigms, see F. Ferrucci, La disabilità come relazione sociale. Gli approcci sociologici tra natura e cultura, Rubbettino, Soveria Mannelli 2004.
[5] For structural-functionalism, illness – in this case understood as disability – is regarded as a form of institutionalized deviance, according to which the condition of “[being] sick” is considered legitimate only if the individual conforms to the social expectations associated with his or her role as an involuntary deviant. Cf. T. Parsons, Il sistema sociale, Edizioni di Comunità, Milan 1996.
[6] For interactionism, society provides a label for disability, understanding it as a stigmatized social identity. In this sense, the stigmatized (disabled) individual is he or she who fits into social relations with other individuals carrying an aura of diversity. Cf. E. Goffman, Stigma. L’identità negata, Giuffrè, Milan 1983.
[7] Cf. C. Barnes, G. Mercer, T. Shakespeare, Exploring disability. A sociological introduction, Polity Press, Cambridge 1999.
[8] F. Ferrucci, La disabilità come relazione sociale. Gli approcci sociologici tra natura e cultura, Rubbettino, Soveria Mannelli 2004, p. 16. [Free translation]
[9] Cf. Z. Bauman, Modernità liquida, Laterza, Rome-Bari 2011.
[10] Pope Francis, Encyclical Letter Fratelli Tutti, 2020, n. 22.
[11] Cf. F. Casetti, L’occhio del Novecento. Cinema, esperienza, modernità, Bompiani, Milan 2005, p. 15.
[12] T. Shakespeare, Disabilità e società, Erickson, Treno 2027, p. 78. [Free translation] On the issues of media representations and audiences see also F. Ferrucci, La disabilità come relazione sociale. Gli approcci sociologici tra natura e cultura, Rubbettino, Soveria Mannelli, 2004, pp. 158-168.
[13] Pope Francis, Address to members of the Italian Autism Foundation, April 1, 2022.