New Disability Documentaries

By Barbara Duncan
 

"King Gimp" wins Oscar for short documentary

During the Academy Awards special on March 26 on live TV, in front of a worldwide audience, a young man at the back of the room fell out of his wheelchair and the camera quickly panned away. Not until much later in the broadcast did viewers learn that the tumble had been an ebullient response by Dan Keplinger, overjoyed that the documentary about his life, "King Gimp" had won an Oscar.

Peggy Oliveri, a disability journalist reacting in The Los Angeles Times on April 3, describes her initial embarrassment that a fellow "gimp" was shaming her in front of millions. But, then, she considers the situation further and writes: "Wait a minute...how is this any different from what Roberto Benigni did last year when he won? ...Benigni jumps over people's heads, this guy falls on the floor." They were both excited at winning Oscars-"That's something to get excited about." Oliveri continues, "Thank God the camera panned back to...Keplinger in his chair...his eyes were glowing...I was proud of my "gimp" brother."

Keplinger, a 27 year old communications and arts graduate of Towson University in Maryland, was not just the subject of the documentary, but also wrote the script. According to Beth A. Haller, Ph.D., one of his professors and a disability media researcher, "Dan and the filmmakers were committed to having his way of communicating recreated in the film. He has a severe speech disability, and he types on a computer with this headstick and this was recreated very effectively in the film."

The 39 minute film, "King Gimp," was assembled from 80 hours of footage shot over the last 14 years. A slightly longer cut will be shown on HBO on June 5. Details about purchase of the film are available via email: gbillups@umaryland.edu or via fax 410 706 8471.

Enable: People with Disabilities and Computers (with the Flying Karamazov Brothers)

A British television documentary producer once advised me to be properly suspicious of a disability film that had won too many awards. The new Microsoft video, Enable, has managed to win six awards since its widely-reported release in late 1999 and after viewing it twice, I was reminded of that cynical comment.

Essentially, there are three films here playing against each other for 45 minutes: a  classic, biographical presentation demonstrating how 10 people with a variety of disabilities are benefiting from the new information technologies; a roundtable discussion among  media-savvy advocates on how to change attitudes; and some jarring intervals by the Flying Karamazov Brothers, "who introduce accessibility concepts through juggling, music and shtick."

Usually when a documentary is this clumsy and breaks basic rules of filmmaking, the primary reasons are budget or lack of one, and the resulting production crew composed of friends and volunteers. But, Microsoft? It's difficult to tell what actually happened here, (did they finish editing the 10 stories and a manager trained by Dilbert's boss said, "Uh, oh, it's not funny!?) but following are what I found to be the strong and weak points.

Strong points: The producers did a great job finding some young people with disabilities to include as featured presenters-it's still unusual to hear deaf and deaf-blind high school and college students speaking for themselves.

Similarly, the advocates sitting around a table are compelling as they explain in a non-dogmatic vernacular how technology is great, but public attitude change is still first and foremost on their wish list. The advocates, a standup comic, radio show host and theater student, are well-spoken and to the point.

Weak points: The Brothers don't fly, but they do start a lot of fires and drop a lot of eggs in the name of accessibility. (I didn't get it either.) Most distracting, the Brothers huff, puff and shout their way through lessons for the "temporarily able-bodied," while juggling and torching all the props. Some professional voice-over narration might have helped.

Even though it rarely works, some directors still try for a certain ambiance by shooting around and through meal or meeting tables littered with glasses, bottles and plates. It doesn't work here either for the roundtable discussion segments. However, it is amusing to watch the one Brother twirl his moustache endlessly and how, through a number of courses, the full plate is always the one in front of the sign language interpreter.

And finally, there should be at least two firm rules for disability documentaries: No more inspiring quotes by Mother Theresa (the Helen Keller quotes are getting pretty old too) and no more playing violins while people are talking about their disabilities.

"Right Here, Right Now," series of video diaries

In April the Public Broadcasting System (PBS) in the U.S. launched "Right Here, Right Now," a new series of video diaries directed by the subjects themselves. The premiere in the series was "Jeanne," a 39 year old deaf woman, who is in the midst of a decision of whether or not to have a cochlear implant.

As this is a controversial topic in the deaf community, it was fascinating to watch how evenly Jeanne handled her own consideration of the pros and cons, while receiving both invited and uninvited advice from all sources in her life: family, friends, co-workers and professionals in the CI business.

Jeanne takes the viewer through her life---driving, working, hanging out with friends, having meetings with CI staff at the hospital, visiting with family. Gradually, as we are introduced to all of the main actors in Jeanne's life, we begin to see that the implant dilemma is a powerful "provocation," inducing  all to clarify their relationships with Jeanne and their expectations of how the operation might change these relationships.

Perhaps the most poignant moment of the 50 minute video is when Jeanne casually but nervously brings up to her mother that if she had the operation, her mother won't have to worry any more about learning sign language. The mother, embarrassed, reassures Jeanne that taking sign language lessons is something she plans to do as a retirement project. Jeanne gently reminds her mother that she has been retired for seven years-exposing what has probably been their most painful divide--no one in Jeanne's family could ever find the time to learn sign language.

Jeanne has a wry, reflective sense of humor that threads throughout the piece-she engages you in her quest to examine this individualized dilemma from all angles. She deeply cares for her best friend who defines having the operation as essentially a political act against the deaf community. At the same time Jeanne remembers listening to music as a child before her hearing deteriorated, and wonders if would be able to put up with traffic and construction noises to be able to hear jazz again.

The producers of the series say the objective is to show "people on the brink of change" and by this criteria alone it is understandable why they chose this entertaining but thought-provoking piece as the launch.