Despite the moves our current President is making to demolish diversity programs, inclusion will always matter. I think that’s more true in the arts than anywhere else, since art is all about perspective and empathy. However, is there such a thing as the “wrong” perspective? Maybe, when dusty old tropes are embraced rather than discarded.

What kinds of tropes do I mean? In particular, I’m talking about tropes surrounding characters with disabilities in film. A few of them are:

• The person with disabilities is profoundly bitter.
• The person with disabilities is actually magical/superpowered.
• The person with disabilities is a pure innocent put on Earth by God to make everyone else feel better.
• The narrative around the person with disabilities is only about them overcoming their disability.
• And, my personal favorite, the person with disabilities is played by a non-disabled actor who tells everyone how inspirational the experience playing the character was.

That last trope is maddening to me. For example, the next time you watch Forrest Gump (a decision I don’t recommend), consider that a decision was made in casting the role of Lieutenant Dan. Option One was to cast Gary Sinise and spend enormous amounts of money on visual effects to make it look like he’s a double amputee. Option Two was to cast an actor who already had an amputation. They went with Option One, which is not awesome.*

It hasn’t been great, but it hasn’t always been lousy. The Best Years of Our Lives had genuine representation with actor Harold Russell, as did The Peanut Butter Falcon with Zack Gottsagen and A Quiet Place with Millicent Simmonds. Films that embrace real representation are more than just respectful. They create a genuine perspective shift for viewers. One of the best examples of this is Daruma, an indie drama that makes a real impact.

Patrick (Tobias Forrest) is not exactly living his best life. He’s a veteran using a wheelchair and his life is a stew of lousy choices. Drinks too much? Check. Spends time and money at the local strip club? Check. Thinks the stripper likes him? Check – but only briefly. Is a mean dick to his neighbor Robert (John W. Lawson)? Checkity check check check.

You’d think that Patrick would at least cut Robert some slack, considering Robert is also a vet, is a double amputee, and is nice enough to re-deliver Patrick’s mail. Not so much! He’s too busy stewing in regret, anger, and fear. As far as he can tell, things aren’t likely to change in any meaningful way.

Only they do. Patrick gets a visit from Kaitlyn (Kelli McNeil), a representative of Arizona’s Department of Children’s Services. She informs Patrick that after a long ago fling, he’s the father of four-year-old Camilla (Victoria Scott). However, Camilla’s mother has died due to an aggressive form of cancer, and as the other “parent,” Patrick is now obliged to raise her.

As you might imagine, Patrick is a) not thrilled about this development and b) wildly out of his depth. So much so that when Camilla arrives, Patrick makes a mess of things and torpedoes the possibility of a romance with Anna (Abigail Hawk). His only other option is for Camilla to live with her grandparents in Rhode Island. Getting there won’t be easy, since airlines have made trashing wheelchairs into a specialty. Instead, Patrick pays Robert to drive him and Camilla, and along the way he’ll have to figure out what kind of man he really wants to be.

Whenever she sees trailers for movies, a good friend of mine is fond of sneering, “Why does this need to exist?” She’s often right. In the case of Daruma, it needs to exist as a decency corrective. Director Alexander Yellen has made a bighearted film that never panders. Considering he’s also an experienced cinematographer, it’s not surprising that Yellen’s film looks as good as it does. It’s handsome without being needlessly flashy, which is the right approach for a film like this. He also cleverly shoots moments from Patrick’s POV, so we get a sense of how the world looks and feels to him.

A film like this could have an annoyingly treacly tone, and a few times it comes right up to the line. The screenplay by Kelli McNeil helps to temper that sentiment with some precision-engineered black humor. Patrick provides most of that with lines like, “I don’t have a disability, I’m vertically challenged.” More importantly, McNeil does strong work with characterization. Remember the trope I mentioned about the person with disabilities being super bitter? That’s Patrick, but the script gradually shows us that his bitterness is a reaction to events in his past, not his disability. The person he’s the most bitter toward is himself, and the script gives the characters space and time to change believably. Along similar lines, remember the old trope about the screw-up who is shocked to learn he’s a father and gradually accepts it, usually with the help of a good woman? McNeil’s script nods to that, then realistically tweaks it in a far more satisfying direction. This is a script powered by character rather than plot. 

According to the press notes about the film, it’s “the first authentically cast film in US film history to star two leads with disabilities in a narrative not about overcoming disability.” As you can understand, that’s a big deal. The film is well cast, and the leads in particular deliver. As Patrick, Tobias Forrest isn’t just playing a big old grumpasaurus with a hidden heart of gold. For large parts of the film, he’s legitimately a dick. Watch Forrest’s performance, and you’ll see how impressively subtle it is. Patrick acts selfishly, improves, backslides, and behaves true to his nature. He’s got a strong scene partner with John W. Lawson as Robert. He’s understandably hostile toward Patrick, but watch him when he immediately warms up to Camilla. More importantly, watch Patrick watch Robert. Lawson plays a guy who knows he hasn’t been at his best in the past, and he’s doing the work. You know what’s another phrase for toxic masculinity? It’s men who are incapable of dealing with their own bullshit. In the case of these two men, they can. 

A quick word about Abigail Hawk as Anna. Her character initially shows up for a few early sequences. We’re meant to think that she’ll become Patrick’s love interest, get pushed away by Patrick’s self-destructive behavior, and when all is lost, he’ll win her back. Not so much! In those early sequences, Hawk’s Anna is very, very forward. Later on, Anna makes a choice that feels correct for how she’s been introduced, how she’s behaved, and how she’s responded to other characters. It’s a smart performance, and Hawk takes a supporting character that would simply be a cliche in a lesser film and makes her more complicated and interesting.

Inclusion doesn’t just matter in film, it’s essential for the growth of the art form. The reason Daruma works as well as it does isn’t because it’s preachy, and thank God, it’s not. It’s because it effectively puts us in the headspace of a character and, within a story, allows us to see and feel the world the way they do. At the end of the day, isn’t that the whole point of movies?

*Don’t get me wrong, Gary Sinise is fantastic and I will not tolerate Sinise slander in this house.

Tim Brennan Movie Critic

Tim has been alarmingly enthusiastic about movies ever since childhood. He grew up in Boulder and, foolishly, left Colorado to study Communications in Washington State. Making matters worse, he moved to Connecticut after meeting his too-good-for-him wife. Drawn by the Rockies and a mild climate, he triumphantly returned and settled down back in Boulder County. He's written numerous screenplays, loves hiking, and embarrassed himself in front of Samuel L. Jackson. True story.