Jerry Rothwell (director)
(studio)
12A (certificate)
82 (length)
18 June 2021 (released)
12 June 2021
How do you communicate your thoughts and feelings when you cannot speak, but have a lot to say? The Reason I Jump is a documentary feature about non-verbal autism, and it explores this very question in vivid, tender detail.
The film is based on the bestselling book of the same title, written by a remarkably eloquent thirteen-year-old boy, Naoki Higashida, in which he shares his own experience of living with autism.
Director, Jerry Rothwell (How to Change the World, Heavy Load) weaves beautifully the boy’s insights with the stories of five non-speaking autistic young people from around the world: Joss, Amrit, Ben, Emma and Jestina.
The film’s central theme examines our pre-conceptions and notions about neurodiversity and what it means to communicate. We are invited to cogitate an alternative, sensory reality, one in which a vast array of emotions co-exist some are magical, others are disorientating and difficult to process.
The role of narrator (Jordan O’Donegan) works exceptionally well, not only as a conduit to express Higashida’s observations but as a bridge to the people we meet on this journey of discovery.
Choosing the perspective of a young person in this context is emotionally charged as it requires the audience to think about how a child might first come to understand that they may be different from others, and that difference is perceived by many to be a problem.
Novelist, David Mitchell, (Cloud Atlas), and his wife, Keiko Yoshida, translated the original book after it helped them better understand their own son’s autism and such was its impact, they felt moved to share it with others. Mitchell appears frequently and is almost a second narrator figure, as he describes the book, “it’s like cartography, he makes a map of his mind,” and offers-up personal testimony of his own struggles to learn more about his son’s condition.
Talking head experts are light on the ground and the film is all the more compelling for it, the decision by the filmmakers to feature people who have ‘skin in the game’ from autistic contributors to their carers and teachers, gives the documentary an authoritative stamp of authenticity.
Each person has a chunk of screen time to establish them fully, and each story is as different as the individuals themselves, but their collective experience manages to cover a wide range of issues from stereotypical labelling to the opportunities of letterboard learning (a method by which words are expressed by pointing to the alphabet) through to showing how autism still carries a harsh stigma in some parts of the world.
The production style is surprisingly playful at times and very intimate and personal throughout. It is packed with appealing highly stylised shots, detailed close-ups, wides and meandering walks which are all bolstered by a rich archive of family footage. One memorable sequence intercuts Joss taking a car journey now with one he took in the past as a young boy – the fast cuts between the past and present, create a hypnotic, nostalgic quality.
The sound and editing techniques used honour the importance auditory and visual elements play in the lives of people with autism, but it is sound artist Nick Ryan’s work that lingers in the mind the most. A potters’ wheel rotating, morphs into a soundscape of helicopter blades in full flight, loud slaps of clay, sound ultra wet and slippery and noisy flecks of rain tinkle like tiny shards of glass dancing against a window, all are gloriously intense, and feel simultaneously celebratory and imposing.
We are shown what sound means to some of the film’s contributors; Emma who lives in America, carries the game Simon with her, its 1980s electronic bleeps and light pulses are a source of comfort and interest. Joss in the UK is drawn to the low-level hum of green electricity boxes, and we watch him pressed up close against them – calm and engaged. The filmmakers ask us to imagine what it might be like to hear and see everything at once, without any filters.
There are many moments to savour but two, standout. The first is the story of Jestina from Sierre Leone and her parents battle to improve access to education and resources, not only for their daughter but for other families with autistic children living in Freetown. Another scene, which is more fleeting, shows the artist Amrit embracing her mother and caressing her face, this is one of the most tender portraits of love I have ever seen on screen.
The final sequence evokes the work of Edward Hopper and his painting Nighthawks, Rothwell’s shadowy figures in a dimly lit setting create an atmospheric ending which seems to invite us to be just a little bit more curious about the neuro-diverse world in which we all reside.
The Reason I Jump will open in cinemas across the UK on Friday 18th June.