When my daughter was diagnosed with autism, I started to see many of my favorite horror movies differently. Those that used the anxieties of motherhood to deepen a story of possession or madness took on new meaning for me, becoming movies about special needs mothers and their children. I see so many now gut-punching details in these films I hadn’t really understood before. A few, like If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You, intentionally drew from that caregiving world, but of course, most were accidental.
Take our beloved The Exorcist. It’s worshipped for many reasons, but the thing I keep coming back to is Chris’ (Ellen Burstyn) weary dedication to her daughter, Regan (Linda Blair). Chris is so persistent, taking Regan to test after test, enduring watching her daughter get a brutal spinal tap, until she finally goes way beyond her comfort zone and recruits, ya know, an exorcist. The film takes a long time with this sequence, showing what’s wrong with Regan, taking you through the grueling process to ground the story, so you believe the possession in a way you might not have if you were just thrust into her spewing pea soup. It all feels like an operatic version of what I like to jokingly call my Honorary Degree in Autism. Pretty wild that one of the best representations of the process of getting help for your special needs child is a possession story.
In Insidious, Renai (Rose Byrne) is faced with her little boy, Dalton (Ty Simpkins), falling into a sudden, indefinite coma-like state, which means she has to learn how to maintain feeding tubes and other medical equipment. The first time I watched the nurse show Renai how to use this equipment, the impact sailed over my head. I had a newborn and mostly related to the movie’s depiction of baby monitor scares. But when I watched it again after Bethany had been in therapies for years, it hit me so hard. It’s the moment when you realize you’ve suddenly been called up to the medical majors and it’s up to you to keep your child alive and safe. It’s all way more than you imagined.
Renai’s husband, Josh (Patrick Wilson), falls into the too-common habit of avoiding this caregiving by pretending to work long hours. Renai has to beg him to join her in this struggle and then to utilize the help of an expert psychic, Elise (the great Lin Shaye). So many mothers are the ones trying to get their children the therapy and support they need, while their male partners block them out of shame or an unwillingness to do the daily grind work needed.
In the unflinching If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You, writer-director Mary Bronstein’s focus is so much on mom Linda (Rose Byrne), that her daughter is both unnamed and only fully appears in frame once. Her daughter has an unnamed condition related to keeping weight on, so once again, poor Rose Byrne is in the land of feeding tubes. But unlike Renai in Insidious, Linda crumbles under the weight of this intense caregiving: drinking, drugging, lashing out at everyone around her, even leaving her child alone every night, but telling herself it’s fine, because she takes the baby monitor with her. I have literal nightmares like this, where I leave my daughter alone and can’t get back to her, that I lash out at her therapy providers, that I have nothing left to give. We’re expected to hold up so much of this system of care, it’s a wonder more of us don’t pull a Linda.
Wendy Torrance (Shelley Duvall) in The Shining has to rescue herself and her psychic kid, Danny, from her abusive husband, Jack, even before they get to that damn hotel (that’s right – I’m Team #HeWasLikeThisBeforeTheOverlook). She doesn’t understand her son’s “shine” yet, referring to Tony as just an imaginary friend. Her acceptance of her son is so pure. As Wendy sheepishly admits Jack’s abusive behavior to a doctor, the long ash on Wendy’s cigarette warns us they’re screwed. The hotel only pushes Jack further into insanity. Father and son are “special,” and Wendy is caught trying to take care of both of them. She’s the one who ends up doing Jack’s job, attending to the boilers so the place doesn’t blow up. The Overlook takes advantage of Jack’s entitlement to try to kill them all. Notice it didn’t try to take over Wendy. But in the end, she must leave her husband to succumb to it in order to save her son. Since most scientists believe many disabilities, including autism, are hereditary, that leaves many mothers of special needs children contending with more than just their child’s special needs.
Jennifer Kent isn’t a mother, but with The Babadook, she was clearly so good at learning from her friends who are mothers, that she got the world of pre-interventions so right, when it feels like both you and your child are out of control and too exhausted to even know how to get help. Amelia (Essie Davis) is still in deep grief after the loss of her husband, who died when she was on the way to the hospital to give birth. Now, years later, her little boy, Samuel (Noah Wiseman), is in acute need. I always call this movie a Rorschach test. Some people see it as being about grief; others, as a straight monster tale or even the depiction of a mental breakdown. But I saw myself and my daughter in that story: the sleep deprivation, the brutal tantrums, the glacial process of getting help, the clingy child you adore but desperately need a break from, and the people who will not be “inconvenienced” by your child. It hurts my feelings when people say Samuel is annoying, because he reminds me so much of my girl before she got help. The ending especially hit me hard. Rather than having a more traditional supernatural ending of dying or defeating the evil, Amelia has to learn to live with it. I, too, had to learn to just feed the Babadook in the basement.
For fun, I also have to throw in an uncle character I delight in. I recently rewatched Silver Bullet, with the delightful uncle-nephew relationship of Uncle Red (Gary Busey) and his wheelchair-using, werewolf-fightin’ nephew, Marty (Corey Haim). Uncle Red outfits a fast and furious electric wheelchair-motorcycle hybrid for his beloved nephew. He doesn’t coddle or overprotect him, but he does look out for his feelings. Obviously, Silver Bullet is a sillier flick than the others, but I love the reminder to always treat our kids like the strong people they are. My daughter has had to be more resilient than most kids. But we still have an absolute blast together. Gotta have some fun projects with the special needs kids in your life, too! And if those projects help them evade werewolves, all the better! But to be fair, maybe Uncle Red can afford to be more fun because he doesn’t also have to take Marty to doctor’s appointment and cook all those meals.
Inspired by these stories and my rad kid, I’m on a mission as a horror filmmaker to represent these stories in my own voice, leaning even more heavily on these themes in the films I’m currently developing. My feature film The Apology was a metaphor for advocating for a child with special needs. In my most recent short film, Pick Up Time, I experimented with tone to talk about how high the stakes feel with maintaining my daughter’s routines and therapies. Tracey is dropping off her groceries quickly before picking up her daughter, when Tracey is brutally attacked. She emerges from her home, bloody but alive, and calls 911. Despite the operator’s protests, Tracey cannot stay on the scene. It’s pick-up time. She doesn’t even have time to clean off the blood.
Having a child with a disability is not the hopeless nightmare movies too often depict it as. My daughter is loving, hilarious, imaginative and obsessive. She’s an athlete, a singer, a surfer, a swimmer, a counselor and a friend. And it’s rarely the disability that’s the real nightmare, but rather the bureaucracy, ableism and lack of community support. But it is a real, lifelong challenge. You battle resentment and loneliness. Creating and engaging with art that talks about that duality is crucial for the health of both disabled people and their caregivers. No mother ever wants their child to feel like a burden, but pretending motherhood is all picnics and bedtime stories is dangerous for both children and mothers. Thank goodness for horror movies, where filmmakers can channel our fears and frustrations in a safe space for all to “enjoy.”
Featured image shows Rose Byrne in If I Had Legs, I'd Kick You.
