Exploring Disability Representation: The Best Films of 2024

In Entertainment, Reviews by Kristen LopezLeave a Comment

I’m asked at the end of every year whether it was good or bad, from a disability perspective, at the movies. And every year I tend to have the same answer: “It’s never great, but there were some moments.” Because disabled characters still comprise such a small subset of characters—just 2.4%, according to this year’s Annenberg Initiative study—it’s hard to find too many opportunities to champion disabled representation. This year, surprisingly enough, gave me five strong candidates that explore disability from a variety of angles. Some are documentaries; others are narratives. Some are dramas, while others are musicals. If good representation means seeing us in a variety of different worlds, 2024 gave us several to choose from. Please note that I focused on physical disabilities and releases that went to theaters only.

A Different Man

If I were asked what was the best portrayal of disability in 2024, I’d immediately say director Aaron Schimberg’s A Different Man, released by A24. The film follows Edward (Sebastian Stan), who suffers from a severe facial deformity. When he’s presented with a cure, he leaps at it—until he meets another man with his condition (Adam Pearson), who is living the life Edward always dreamed of. It’s frustrating that this movie didn’t garner more traction upon release, considering how audaciously it examines disability. Schimberg utilizes every critique that could be used against the movie to deconstruct what a disability narrative is and how an audience’s sympathy changes when expectations are subverted.

Case in point: the casting of Sebastian Stan as a disabled man. About 20 minutes into the movie, Edward is offered a magic cure, a trope common to disability narratives wherein they are presented with an outright cure because the presumption is that deep down, we all want to be “abled.” But there’s nothing magical about it. Once Edward starts taking the cure, it results in some gruesome body horror. Edward himself says, “My face is falling off in clumps,” only to be reassured by the doctor that “perhaps the risk is worth the reward.”

However, once Edward transforms into a conventionally attractive man, the movie goes even deeper into the interrelationships between ableism, disability, and identity. Edward believes that all his problems—his isolation, his lack of a girlfriend, his acting career that’s going nowhere—will be fixed with a new face. And, for a bit, they are. Edward now feels integrated into his community, hooks up with girls, and gets everything society has told him beautiful, non-disabled people have access to.

But once Edward discovers his former neighbor, Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), is doing an off-Broadway play based on her encounters with him, Edward believes he’s owed the part, even though he’s no longer disfigured. “Is it wrong to cast someone because of their disfigurement?” Ingrid asks. “Will people come to gawk?” What are the ethical boundaries of abled directors and screenwriters telling disabled stories? How do narrative tropes play into an audience’s expectations of what disability is?

The audience’s perception of Edward shifts pre- and post-transformation. When Edward discovers Ingrid’s play, he has no qualms auditioning for it, in spite of having a face that looks like Sebastian Stan. He believes he deserves to play the character because, technically, it is based on him. Edward goes up against several other disabled actors, a few of whom are people of color. The audience’s sympathy starts to turn as, even though we’ve seen what Edward endures, he can’t have it both ways. The arrival of Pearson’s Oswald throws another wrench into the mix. Oswald has the same facial issues as Edward, and where Edward was once awkward, Oswald is accomplished. Oswald plays saxophone, is personable, and even has an ex-wife and child. You question whether Edward’s disability was really the limiting factor in his life.

I could go on about this movie’s perfection. A Different Man makes a point of not just telling a physically disabled story but examining the self-loathing of internalized ableism, the ethical issues regarding filmmaking, and a variety of other elements that tend to sail under the radar. It’s a movie I’ve seen three times now and always find something new.

Unstoppable

Similar to A Different Man, Unstoppable takes something conventional and attempts to tell the story differently. In this case, it takes the inspirational sports narrative and uses it to tell a story about accepting limitations and adapting to the situation without losing anything. Based on the life of wrestler Anthony Robles (played by Jharrel Jerome), Unstoppable follows Robles as he tries to get on the Arizona State University wrestling team while navigating personal difficulties at home. While Jerome himself is not a disabled man, the fact that a movie about Robles, an Afro-Latino man with a limb difference, has been made and stars an Afro-Latino lead in Jerome is worth celebrating.

Anthony is always the lead character, and we watch him navigate locales that are inaccessible to him. During a training montage wherein the wrestling team must scale a rocky mountain, Anthony does it with crutches, his hands bloody by the end. This moment is typical in a story about underdogs, but Anthony being disabled doesn’t show audiences that it’s possible for him to do it. Instead, a disabled audience sees how he traverses those spaces. Even if you aren’t ambulatory, the movie emphasizes that Anthony is not superhuman nor is he someone to be pitied. He makes do with what he’s got.

The genre of the movie implies a certain level of inspiration porn and how a character like him transcends his circumstances. But, at a crucial moment, Anthony tells his mother, “When people look at me, they see what’s missing.” Disability in film is often about showing what characters lack, how they aren’t whole because of a missing part or skill. Instead, Anthony puts the burden of that lack on those who look at him and perceive him as being half-formed. To him and his family, who routinely crack jokes about his missing leg, it’s something they know doesn’t define him; others just need to see it. If you’ve watched a disabled sports movie before and found it trite, this is one worth seeking out.

Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story: Disability Representation

It’s been 20 years since the passing of actor Christopher Reeve, who remains one of the most famous disabled people in existence. This documentary lays out the basics of Reeve’s life and how becoming a paraplegic affected him and his career. The film is certainly flawed, as it doesn’t go as hard as it could into how Hollywood ableism forced Reeve to give up acting and take up directing. However, it doesn’t seek to make the audience believe Reeve is a saint. What makes the movie stand out is how it confronts the critiques against Reeve that he was only focused on a cure for himself. The documentary is honest and forthright about Reeve’s belief that he would one day walk again, while also emphasizing how his foundation (and his wife, Dana) sought to focus on helping all disabled people. It’s a fascinating story about a flawed figure.

Wicked

Fans of the Broadway musical knew to expect some sort of disability representation here through the character of wheelchair user Nessarose (Marissa Bode). The show has been criticized for its ableism, both in its music and depiction of Nessa. Not to mention the fact that, in 20 years, no actual wheelchair user has ever played the role. It’s why seeing Marissa Bode play the role is so vital. Bode, making her acting debut, is sweet and charming in her performance, and the script does some fun things with disability tropes. The whole idea of Nessa being “beautifully tragic” and “tragically beautiful” is sold as a joke, a verbal eye roll that Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) knows is how abled people see Nessa. There’s also a great line about Nessa not wanting people to push her chair, a necessary reminder that not every wheelchair user needs someone to push them. It’s also great to see Oz being accessible, with wheelchair ramps being showcased.

This year certainly gave me the most diverse array of movies with physically disabled characters and subject matter I’ve seen in a long time. We’re far from having true equality, and the pool of titles should go beyond five, but it’s a start. It also compelled abled audiences to take a deeper look at the variety of disabled stories out there. And it made for a lot of entertaining films to watch.

Do you agree with me? I’d love to know your thoughts.

Kristen Lopez, a woman smiling at the camera.

Bio

Kristen Lopez is a pop culture essayist, editor and critic who has been published at Variety, The Hollywood Reporter, MTV and TCM. She is the former Film Editor for TheWrap and the former TV Editor at IndieWire. She is the author of “But Have You Read the Book: 52 Literary Gems That Inspired Our Favorite Films.” You can read her articles on Substack.

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