In which I wonder about Wonder

Hollywood is hoping that many of us will see Wonder this weekend, its adaptation of a YA novel about a kid with a severe cranofacial anomaly. R.J. Palacio has said that her inspiration for the novel was her own clumsy response to a child with a craniofacial anomaly, and in the novel her main character, Auggie, seems to have something like a severe form of Treacher Collins syndrome. (Go look. Scroll down. I'll wait.)

Predictably but also vexingly, the makers of the movie version of Wonder have buffed up their hero, choosing to use an actor wearing a mask that creates the appearance of mild facial differences. Be kind, they exhort us. And hey, I'm all for kindness. I was just blogging about how kindness would be front and center in my life motto if I had one. But this, my friends, strikes me as cheap kindness.

Hollywood has long made movies that reflect distorted ideas about the range of normal in the human form. Remember The Truth About Cats and Dogs, in which Janeane Garofalo was the plain one? Remember Frankie and Johnny, in which the woman who defined herself by her unattractiveness was played by...Michelle Freaking Pfeiffer? The Hollywood range of normal bottoms out at approximately the 90th percentile for attractiveness. This means that 90 percent of the women in America are carrying around baggage about having sub-normal looks, because women who look them don't appear on the big screen. But oooooh, it makes me sad that the people behind this movie had the opportunity to allow kids with facial disfigurements to see themselves represented, and they opted not to do so.

Humans are wired to notice subtle differences in facial structure. When you first learn about the features that define dysmorphia, you feel a little skeptical-- like, come on, is it a big deal to have the spacing between your eyes be outside the normal range by an eighth of an inch? And yet even minor differences leave kids more vulnerable to bullying. Earlier this week I was reminded of how forceful an instinctive response can be when a child with a particularly severe facial disfigurement popped up in my Twitter feed. I've served on a cleft lip and palate team; I've taught units on craniofacial anomalies ten times now. I know better than to flinch and look away, and still I flinched and looked away. If Auggie's problems were mild, we could chalk up his difficulties to the mean people around him. Isn't it awesome that we in the audience are better than that? Hurray for kindness! Kindness all around! The decision to feature a child actor who can remove his mask at will obscures the enduring complexity of the issues faced by people with severe disfigurements. I would like to register my objections.

It shouldn't surprise me that they went this route, I suppose. Movies are notorious for slapping quick and easy solutions on top of complex and enduring problems. Substance abuse? Have yourself a quick epiphany and visit a few AA meetings. Past trauma? Good thing your new love interest is such a good listener -- you'll be fixed by the time the credits roll. Reality is inevitably more difficult and complicated.

My biggest criticism of Hollywood is not that all of the women my age have preternaturally smooth foreheads, while mine carries the marks of 47 years' worth of worry and surprise. My biggest criticism is that Hollywood does goodness badly. Remember the creepiness of movie-Galadriel contemplating Frodo's offer of the ring? Or movie-Prince Caspian's willingness to contemplate a deal with the villains? True goodness is thin on the ground in Hollywood movies, as if might be too sappy or predictable. In reality, true goodness is an unexpected and hopeful beacon. Every flavor of true goodness arises from God who is truth and goodness, who looks at us with tender love despite our flaws.

--Oh, man, it's after 11, and I have so many things to cook tomorrow, and this post could use some editing but NaBloPoMo stands nearby tapping its watch. Here's what it boils down to. A buffed and polished movie-Auggie undercuts the gravity of the difficulties faced by kids like novel-Auggie. In doing so it denies us an opportunity to see the truth that matters most: love is still bigger than those difficulties.

Comments

[Celeste]

I couldn't agree more. I also think that it's very hard for people to feel they've seen themselves represented in film, only to see an interview with the actors later. They talk about what it was like to wear a fat suit or a mask, or how they gained to play a fat person and but here's how they worked to lose that weight. "Look what I did for my craft." Fine, I suppose...but do they ever consider what it's like to be the person who can't just step out of costumes and masks? Never do the makers seem to consider that they can find actors who already look the way the character does. I'm sure they have a lot of reasons why they think it's best for business. ((Sigh))

[Emily J]

I had the same thoughts when I saw the trailer. I thought I remembered reading somewhere that the author didn't describe Augie very distinctly because she wanted readers to have to freedom to imagine - or identify - with him.

You articulated another peeve of mine in your comment about beautiful actresses portraying "plain" women - one reason I usually prefer BBC productions. I've always disliked Keira Knightly as Elizabeth Bennett - and even less as Anna Karenina.