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Too Sane For This World
R1 - America - Cinema Libre Review written by and copyright: Ethan Stevenson (10th May 2014). |
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The Film
 “We are different. We are a subculture. We have our own culture. And we have the right to go out and to behave and to hold job and to dress and stim, or whatever we need to do. Whatever is organic to our nature. We have the right to be in the world.” In one of the first sequences of William Davenport’s documentary “Too Sane For This World”, the director takes to the streets to ask random people of San Francisco a seemingly simple question: “What is autism?” Their answers are varied, rarely wholly accurate, and some admit they don’t really know what autism is at all. One interviewee is “pretty sure” it’s some kind of socialization disorder, which might be partly true—if oversimplified. Another relates—and it turns out, is probably the most informed—a series of talking points based on what they’ve experienced in hanging around someone they know, who has Asperger’s syndrome, which the interviewee then notes is on the “high functioning” end of the autism spectrum. Although highly anecdotal, the final interviewee's story is correct in that, indeed, it’s a spectrum, with as much diversity as the various answers given in the segment. And with the 12 unique subjects who sit down in front of Davenport’s camera—each and every one placing somewhere on the autism spectrum—the filmmaker, professor (with degrees in both special education and film), and activist sets out to demythologize autism. Put actual faces to the name so to speak, in an attempt to educate the masses by merely showing each interviewee for who they are. It's the story of autism, or stories, told by the people who consider themselves (medically classified or not) part of spectrum. No more, no less. "Sane" is not always a pretty portrait, although it is often an enlightening piece that is innately human. The initial man on the street sequence quickly quells any question of whether or not a film like “Too Sane” is needed. Clearly it is, and more to the point, Davenports low-budget but well meaning and made effort is exactly the kind of film that can accomplish lofty but not impossible-to-achieve goal: to help people gain a better understanding of an incredibly complex—as the author of “Aspergirls: Empowering Females with Asperger's Syndrome”, Rudy Simone, labels it—subculture, with its own smaller world inside this larger one. Of course, one cannot really blame the general public for its ignorance on the subject of autism. What people do not experience firsthand is most often “learned”, or subconsciously gleaned, through media, and television and film are rarely the leader, but rather a follower of the mainstream. One can likely link the rise of autistic characters on television—still a minute amount, but growing—to the proliferation of awareness and outreach programs popping onto the cultural radar as they become more active. Information, if not exactly the right information, has begun to appear in the fictional media over the last ten or so years. On television, characters like Max Braverman on “Parenthood” (2010-present), and in film, fatherless Oskar in the 9/11 melodrama “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” (2011) have added to the archetype of the inquisitive autistic child; and for the better, I think, in that they’re positive but fairly grounded depictions. But it is a specific type, not necessarily negative but certainly not realistically grounded, that has taken hold in the rarely discussed autistic adult: the brilliant high functioning oddball. The "high functioning" character is usually someone with Aspergers, or at least, as Bryan Fuller has said of his Will Graham on “Hannibal” (2013-present), an individual on the spectrum, with inherent idiosyncrasies and sucky social skills. And one wonders if Graham—and “C.S.I’s” (2000-present) Gil Grissom, and Sonya Cross, the female lead on FX’s “The Bridge” (2013-present)—do more harm than good, if only for the fact that they perpetuate a particularly rare and not exactly universal type. Then again, as the depictions are largely in a positive light, who knows? There’s not one crime solving obsessive among the dozen individuals in Davenport’s documentary, although the real life Dr. Temple Grandin—author and orator (played by Claire Danes in an HBO biopic, which is, come to think of it, perhaps the most well known feature about an adult with autism)—does make an appearance in the film’s introduction. Rather than the larger-than-life figures of fiction, Davenport populates his production with just regular folk: a biophysicist (who’s also a handyman); and an illustrator (who’s also a pianist, clarinetist, and potter); a web developer; an engineer; two authors, one of whom is also a musician and motivational speaker; and many others. What the film accomplishes then, with an efficient economy in its scant 63-minute runtime, is a dutiful exploration of the diversity in a group of those identified as autistic. The film explores their relationship—or lack thereof—with the neurotypical world. How the interact, or don’t interact, within normative society. Through careful juxtaposition, Davenport presents interviewees who are incredibly articulate, and others who struggle to put their thoughts together in coherent order. Some are married, or in committed relationships, and others have never had a serious commitment, or might not even want a significant other. Jim Ullrey, one of the film’s most tragic figures, is an eccentric collector, a hoarder, divorced from his wife, but still living with her in manically organized chaos—car parts of the overgrown front lawn—and he leans on her for support, even though obviously wishes he didn’t have to. A few consider themselves passing as typical in the world of outsiders, their autism only manifest in certain situations. Many more suggest that they don’t want to fit in anyway. A disturbing commonality between most of Davenport’s subjects is that they weren’t diagnosed until relatively late in life, and many almost discovered their autism by accident—or even self-diagnosis. Still, they relate tales of their childhood as outcasts, as they are easily picked on by bullies for little reason other than they were somehow different. Robyn Steward, an emigre from England recounts numerous verbal assaults from her younger days, yet remains undoubtedly the most upbeat person in the entire picture; she works as a motivational speaker, and in a clip from one of her sessions, seems a right stand up comic. If nothing else, “Too Sane For This World” proves true something handyman-physicist Greg Yates says early on in the film; that movies have the power to give a voice to those who can't or otherwise choose not to speak. As a boy, he made 8mm films with his brothers and friends, and in doing so was able to connect to them in ways previously thought not possible. Perhaps that is what Davenport has really set out to do with this documentary; give a voice to his 12 interviewees and countless others not on screen. Considering the director claims “Too Sane” is just part one of a trilogy of autistic-activist-centric features, it seems he’s only getting started.
Video
With the rise of cheap DSLRs, cost is low enough now that a halfway decent high def camera rig isn’t out of reach for even filmmakers working on a micro-budget feature. Thus, the HD-captured “Too Sane For This World” looks a lot of better than it would’ve if it had been made even a few years ago. (It was shot in 2011; but I mean a few years before that.) The 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer still has the burden of overcoming imbedded artifacts from the few archival clips it uses—including Yates’ tattered 8mm, black-and-white, 1.33:1 framed, home movies. And the interviews and other material presumably shot on the fly outdoors looks worse than the interviews done in more controlled interiors. Still, skin tones are natural and colors and contrast appear within normal range for modern digital video. The image is flat, and a little soft, but very few documentaries have vibrancy and depth. Most of the transfer’s weaknesses stem from the low def DVD format, which introduces minor compression artifacts, aliasing and banding, and of course the insurmountable resolution issue.
Audio
The English Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo track offers clear dialog and little else. The disc doesn't include any subtitles.
Extras
An animated music video for the film’s title track “Space Cadet” (1.78:1, enhanced widescreen; 3 minutes 20 seconds) as sung by Robyn Steward, with an appearance by Mark Finley (of Duran Duran), and directed by Davenport has been included. The video’s audio track has outrageously overproduced low end bass, which is not present in the song as heard in the proper film. A theatrical trailer for “Too Sane For This World” (1.78:1, enhanced widescreen; 40 seconds) has also been included. The disc quits playback after the trailer finishes. It’s an odd authoring quirk that I was able to replicate on 3 systems. Pre-menu bonus trailers are for: – "Loving Lamposts” (1.78:1, enhanced widescreen; 2 minutes 33 seconds). – "Make Me Young: Inside the Plastic Surgery Business" (1.33:1; 2 minutes 51 seconds). – "Bernadette" (1.78:1, enhanced widescreen; 4 minutes 37 seconds).
Packaging
Cinema Libre Studio bring “Too Sane For This World" to DVD packaged in a Viva eco-case. The disc is region free, although video content is encoded in NTSC format.
Overall
William Davenport’s activist-documentary “Too Sane For This World” covers surprising ground in a scant 63-minute runtime. Although obviously low budget, it largely achieves its lofty goal in showcasing the variety of those affected by adult autism in its many, many forms. The A/V qualities of the DVD release are secondary to the content of the film, which is often as enlightening as it is innately human.
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