The Reason I Jump is a deeply empathetic autism documentary with an experimental touch
Film Reviews Movie Review
Naoki Higashida, a non-speaking autistic person from Japan, was only 13 when he wrote The Reason I Jump, his revelatory first-person account of life on the spectrum. Published in Japan in 2007 and translated into English six years later by a team that included Cloud Atlas writer David Mitchell, Higashida’s groundbreaking memoir not only upended expectations of what an autistic person was capable of; it also communicated a seemingly impenetrable experience with remarkable lucidity. Using Higashida’s book as a spiritual guide, Jerry Rothwell’s documentary of the same name, which won an audience award at Sundance 2020, similarly bridges the divide between the neurodivergent minority and the neurotypical majority with empathy and originality. It’s a blatantly didactic film, yet its focus on advocacy feels justified given the misconceptions that continue to dominate society’s understanding of the autism community.
Higashida declined to appear in the film, citing his desire for the writing to stand for itself. This limitation actually pushes Rothwell’s adaptation into more unconventional territory: Throughout the film, we see a fictional Higashida (Jim Fujiwara) silently exploring a dreamy natural landscape to emphasize autism’s intensely sensation-driven reality. But rather than center Higashida’s experiences, Rothwell applies the writer’s insights to the lives of five young, non-speaking autistic people in various parts of the world. Straightforward interviews with each subject’s parents—as well as co-screenwriter Mitchell, whose child is on the spectrum—supplement Higashida’s narrative. But thanks to sound designer Nick Ryan and cinematographer Ruben Woodin Dechamps, the film’s palpable, impressionistic rendering of autism’s heightened sensory dimension gives the film a spellbindingly experimental touch. The result is a kind of abstract group portrait that uses each individual’s unique story to articulate a broader and immersive understanding of neurodiversity.
We first meet Amrit, who lives with her mother in the bustling city of Noida, India. Frustrated by her inability to communicate, Amrit turns to drawing and painting as a form of expression. Contrary to expectation, Amrit’s work—colorful, Modernistic interpretations of her daily routines and observations—is not hindered by her condition. Rather, her artwork is beautiful and distinctive precisely because of her radically different perception of the world. Next is Joss, the son of Jump’s producers, Stevie Lee and Jeremy Dear. Excerpts from Higashida’s book are narrated in voice-over by Jordan O’Donegan and strategically woven throughout each individual’s story as an eloquent explainer. “Time is a continuous thing with no clear boundaries,” the narrator explains, illuminating Joss’s experience of reality—ceaselessly reliving early childhood traumas and memories with destabilizing clarity.
In Arlington, Virginia, best friends Ben and Emma attend a progressive special education school and communicate witty, often insightful ideas to their teachers and loved ones by punching letters one-by-one on an alphabet board. (The film emphasizes the fact that many will deny the severity of a person’s autism when they demonstrate an aptitude or intellectual coherence, yet such assumptions are fundamentally misguided.) Lastly, the film takes us to Sierra Leone, where Jestina, the youngest of the five subjects, faces discrimination and demonization from a deeply traditional community that clings to dated notions of autism.
In each section, Rothwell also spotlights the experiences of parents, many whose understanding of their children changed after reading Higashida’s memoir. Jestina’s parents, Mary and Roland, explain their struggle to establish the country’s first special needs school, and the obstacles they face in a society that dismisses their dedication as silly and futile. This split focus on children and parents doesn’t detract from the main subjects; rather it mirrors the film’s overarching objective: debunking the neurotypical worldview and creating a safer, more empathetic future for people on the spectrum. Education and open-mindedness is crucial to this mission; as Higashida puts it, “We, too, want to grow.” Through this film, Rothwell makes the case that such growth for autistic people is only possible if the rest of the world allows it.
20 Comments
Any thoughts on whether this would be appropriate to watch with a kid?
I believe so! In fact this has the feel of a (good) movie that could be shown in schools.
Great, thanks!
This is an amazing blog.In this blog, the information that has been given which is too much helpful for us. So, thanks for share this amazing blog.
Would you say the overall tone is positive/hopeful? It sounds really fascinating, but trying to decide if this is something I can watch now, or have to add to my growing “looks really cool, but don’t have emotional bandwidth to take in” list.
I’d say it’s very positive and hopeful! It’s certainly not the kind of doc that leaves you wrecked by the end.
cool stuff, might check it out.
For a monstrous slam dunk
“Why I Don’t Fake the Funk”
Actually reading about the book this is inspired from makes me feel a bit skeptical here. I encourage others to look into that before fully throwing themselves into this inspiration-for-normies porn. (Did this thirteen year old non-verbal kid write this book or was he assisted through debunked communication techniques? Why would anyone want to be associated with anything about Autism Speaks- an organization that is in a large part responsible for the current state of our world full of idiots.)
And on another note, why give a B to a movie described only in positive terms? It’s not disrespectful to do your job, which is to critique. In fact, it seems both mildly infantilizing and a touch cowardly to refuse to do so. If it’s a B and not an A, surely there must be reasons why.
Um, a B isn’t an indictment. It’s “Above average.” If it was a D, then it would be an indictment.
I’ve seen the movie and I liked it, but reading about the book afterward made me rethink some things. It seems pretty clear Higashida did not write the book, or at least not to the extent he claims. But the film really is invaluable as a teaching tool, and hopefully will enlighten more people about neurodiversity.
I started listening to the audiobook of this and I turned it off after not too long because of how clear it was that the whole thing was bullshit. It often sounded like it was written by a failed middle aged novelist. “When I’m jumping it’s as if my feelings are going upward to the sky. Really, my urge to be swallowed up by the sky is enough to make my heart quiver. When I’m jumping, I can feel my body parts really well, too—my bounding legs and my clapping hands—and that makes me feel so, so good.”“This said, we couldn’t get by without light. Light wipes away our tears, and when we’re bathed in light, we’re happy. Perhaps we just love how its particles pour down on us. Light particles somehow console us. I admit this is something I can’t quite explain using logic.”“I think that people with autism are born outside the regime of civilization. Sure, this is just my own made-up theory, but I think that, as a result of all the killings in the world and the selfish planet-wrecking that humanity has committed, a deep sense of crisis exists. Autism has somehow arisen out of this. Although people with autism look like other people physically, we are in fact very different in many ways. We are more like travelers from the distant, distant past. And if, by our being here, we could help the people of the world remember what truly matters for the Earth, that would give us a quiet pleasure.”No 13 year old would say or write anything like this.
It often sounded like it was written by a failed middle aged novelist. The book was translated from Japanese by David Mitchell—who is, in fact, a middle-aged English novelist. (Although arguably not a failed one—Cloud Atlas was shortlisted for the Booker Prize as well as several other awards.) As Temple Grandin points out in the Wikipedia-cited review you might be quoting:Before The Reason I Jump reached an English-speaking reader, Higashida’s writing was transformed twice: after Higashida selected his words from the alphabet grid, his mother wrote down the sentences and edited the text, which Mitchell and Yoshida later translated.Depending on how you feel about translation, Mitchell’s involvement could very well be a reason to be doubly skeptical of the text’s authenticity! But the layers of mediation are also a decent reason not to write the text off based on style alone.
Where does Autism Speaks come into it? I can’t see it referenced at all, other than them interviewing the author at some point.
This is an amazing blog.In this blog, the information that has been given which is too much helpful for us. So, thanks for share this amazing blog.
I am very intrigued by this, but, per the other comments: 1) I won’t do anything with Autism Speaks, they are basically the “PETA secretly euthanizes millions of animals it doesn’t need to” of the autism world.2) It really sounds like there needs to be a literal translation of what the child actually wrote, not being “helped” out by literary types. I’m always happy when a Chekov or other translation says “adapted by X from a literal translation by Y” (and that’s why Pevear and Volokhonsky rock, because they do both together)…I don’t want to the The Onion’s Nation’s Poets version of this child’s experience. https://entertainment.theonion.com/shadows-meet-the-clouds-gray-on-gray-like-dusty-charc-18195735273) anything that is super positive and uplifting and makes it sounds like a superpower sounds suspicious to me. Not saying that totally encapsulates how the review makes this sound, but I have dealt with people on the spectrum quite a bit and it has been very rewarding but extremely difficult…they weren’t all seeing a world of stars and being bathed in light all the gd time like how Sia thinks, they were people.
It’s definitely a “one extreme or another” subject. Either it’s a superpower or it’s something so mortifying and terrible that some people refuse to vaccinate their children in order to avoid it.
But is it true?This movie might seem like it offers some kind of insight into the mind of an autistic child, but I tend to think the only minds it lets you into are the parents’.Are these kids secret, locked-in savants, wise beyond their years, or is this a story of forever grieving parents finding a comforting narrative? There is enough fuzz around the creation of the source text that I think it helps to enter into this movie with some skepticism. Unfortunately, it’s the kind of work that if true, is enlightening and inspiring – A testament to the universes hidden inside every grain of sand; If it’s false, then that makes it an exercise in watching the ghosts of these parents, stuck inside their own Bardo, and an ongoing series of acts of self-delusion that are something near manipulation, but without it being clear that there is actually someone doing the manipulation.After weighing some limited evidence, I tend to believe that the facilitated communication presented in the film is dubious, or at least worthy of some healthy skepticism. The book which is adapted seems to me a farfetched fantasy.With that said, the sound and visual design of the movie stands on its own as being very clever and interesting. Perhaps the problem is mine for being so reflexively defensive against the idea that I might be being manipulated that I can’t take this movie on its own terms; I feel like I landed on an island of Lotus Eaters. The parents have it tough – I have no idea about the kids.
In Arlington, Virginia, best friends Ben and Emma attend a progressive
special education school and communicate witty, often insightful ideas
to their teachers and loved ones by punching letters one-by-one on an
alphabet board.
Are Ben & Emma selecting the letters themselves, or does an assistant help them do so?