The documentary provides a close look at both the group's theatrical production in 2004 and the day-to-day lives of the participants. We follow the group from casting to rehearsals to performance. We see them in their homes, neighborhoods, and on field trips. As one would expect with any behind-the-scenes look at a play, we watch the actors struggle with learning lines, following staging instructions, getting into character, and making it to rehearsals. But we also experience the joy they feel when the production comes together and they create something bigger and better than anything they would have created individually. As someone who has participated in small-scale dramatic productions, that is the part of the film I connected with the most.

During a post-screening Q&A, one attendee said of the film, "It shows you that they are real people." I never doubted that those with mental and physical handicaps were real people, but Yellow Brick Road did provide me with a deeper understanding of and connection to those dealing with handicaps; I saw their struggles with putting on a play as not that much different than my own. As someone who has not interacted much with those classified as "handicapped," this film helped me transform some of my preconceptions. Frankly, I was surprised not only at the ability of those participating in the play, but also at the passion they had for the art of drama.

I attended the film with my friend Paul Marchbanks, who also writes for Cinekklesia. Before I proceed, let's hear what he has to say about Yellow Brick Road.

Paul

I am not the ideal, target audience for this documentary. I think Ben articulates well the film's intended impact, Makar and Rondinelli's attempt to enlighten the viewer by walking him/her through the quotidian experience of a disabled population. Unfortunately, our society really needs this kind of thing. Most have no clue what it's like to live with or care for someone with a developmental disability. And no, most of Hollywood's intermittent efforts don't constitute very useful remedies for our ignorance.

So, I applaud the two directors' efforts, and in no way wish to diss similar projects. At the same time, I have to admit to being disconcerted by the movie's comedic tone, however apropos and timely its content. I have the same problem with the very funny Pumpkin and Being There. They also make light of a population unable to participate fully in its own self-mockery, unlike, say, the African-American creators of Undercover Brother (2002) or the white, affluent minds behind Clueless (1995). When a movie, T.V. show, or documentary makes me laugh at someone's uniqueness or difference, and I know that the object of fun has no real opportunity to comment, I get uncomfortable.

Ben

After I finished looking up the word "quotidian," I was free to think a little bit more about this issue of humor and "comedic tone." As I see it, there are a few different levels at which comedy operates in Yellow Brick Road. Personally, I admit that there were times my laughter was caused by my discomfort. I don't have much experience with the intellectually disabled, so I don't know the appropriate way to respond in certain situations. But while there was some "uncomfortable laughter" on my part, I felt like there was more shared laughter. Those in the stage production chose to participate because they like the world of dramatic reenactment. In my experience, most people who act in theatre have a good (often quirky) sense of humor. And the film showed me that particular side of such individuals, the side of them that enjoys having fun. This leads me to the final, and maybe highest type of humor I experienced watching the film: a transcendent laughter. As I laughed, I felt a stronger connection with and deeper understanding of the film's subjects. The film left me convinced that we all face the same kinds of struggles in life; we're all far from perfect.

Paul

Apparently, the filmmakers did show their final footage to the acting group, and they thoroughly enjoyed it. I imagine there was quite a bit of this shared laughter Ben's talking about, moments where able-minded and disabled alike recognized the same moments of physical buffoonery or unintentionally funny dialogue.

I can't help remembering, however, a few disconcerting elements in the film, including a score dependent on penny whistles, a xylophone, bells, and plucked strings--music which helped establish this documentary as more playful than serious. Then there was the play's director who, in an interview with the filmmakers, referred to the adult actors as "kids" she enjoyed playing the "mother" to for a few months every year. (At least two of the audience members--obviously lacking any personal connection at all to the depicted actors--also began using this expression, referring to the actors as "kids" when asking the film directors various questions.) The play director's warm and fuzzy, clichéd claim that "they represent the child in each of us," bemused more than it amused me, demonstrating a sort of dehumanizing condescension, a dismissive posture that considers the disabled person as more a symbol of something buried deep within the able-minded than as a fully human individual him/herself.

What really got me, though, were the directors' choices of what footage to include. Some of it was appropriately moving: an extended dialogue with a disabled man still living in the shadow of his father's emotional abuse, or a consideration of another male actor having difficulty balancing the commitments of play practice with those of his job at the local stadium. But what about all the stuff that made the audience erupt with laughter? Close-up shots of a guy with Down Syndrome sitting in the auditorium trying to catch some rest, repeatedly jerking his head back into an upright position as he dozed and woke, dozed and woke. Or the decision to include footage of a female actor becoming spastically happy when given the role of Miss Gulch (in Dorothy's dream, the Wicked Witch of the West). The directors' invasive treatment of this last participant presented a particularly troublesome spectacle. About a half-hour into the movie, there is a 3-4 minute shot of this woman frantically sharing recent events with her mom on the phone, breaking into tears as she repeats the good news over and over. How did they capture this intimate shot, I asked myself, and why did they include it?

After the documentary's screening, I spoke with one of the two creators who described this particular woman as becoming a "diva" soon after she got her role, beginning to regularly curse the camera crew and carry on. The director explained that her singular behavior began, inexplicably, a couple weeks into the shoot. Though this director didn't connect the dots himself, I think he unwittingly provided an explanation for her later conduct in his description of how this early scene was captured. When the actress received her part and started jumping up and down excitedly and gasping for breath, the theatre director suggested she call up her mom to share the news. One of the documentary directors noticed her departure and, anticipating something dramatic, sent a second unit cameraman in pursuit. The thing is, in her excitement the actress appeared not to notice the cameraman as she poured her heart out; though the camera was virtually in her face, she never looked in his direction. This does not mean, however, that she remained oblivious to the invasiveness of this shot, and I'm guessing she manifested her discontent accordingly in the weeks that followed.

To me, this was only the most memorable of a few instances where the directors took advantage of their subjects' distracted attention and compromised perceptions to generate comedy.

Ben

I don't want to get too bogged down debating specific examples, but maybe one will help illustrate a difference in perspective. Paul mentioned his concern over the scene with the guy with Down Syndrome trying to sleep and having his head jerk around as he fell in and out of sleep. That, for me, was a point of identification because I have done that (the catch-yourself-as-you're-nodding-off) in church or in classroom settings (ok, mostly church) more times than I care to remember. So I didn't see it as a moment of physical buffoonery. And I must also take issue with another of Paul's examples, the Miss Gulch scene he referred to was 20 minutes into the movie, not half an hour as claimed! (Just kidding, I have no concept of time).

Paul also disliked the play director's use of the term "kids" when referring to the participants. Outside the context of the film, I can see where using that term may be problematic. But inside the context of the film, it seemed an appropriate term that expressed the nature of the relationship between the play's director and participants. The director of the play said something in an onscreen interview that captured the essence of what the film showed me. She said (and I'm paraphrasing here) "The excitement about the play is not in its perfection, but in its possibilities." While she pushed the actors to work to a certain standard, she realized that it was the process of working towards a common goal that had the most value for the participants. Whether they recited all of their lines perfectly or remembered every staging direction was secondary.

I think that most of the differences between Paul's and my perception of this film is directly related to our level of engagement with the intellectually-disabled. I think the filmmakers' goals were to (1) do something special for the actors, a group which included one of the director's brother and several family friends, and (2) create a compelling narrative that shows the "real life" of those who live with intellectual disabilities. Reportedly, the members of the cast were pleased with the film, so I have no doubt that goal #1 was met. I think that the difference of opinion is with how the film goes about reaching goal #2. For someone like me, who is mostly uninitiated in the ways of the intellectually-disabled, the movie does a great job of showing various levels of emotion from the participants. It brings them to life. But that strength can also be its downfall, because the medium of film highlights extremes rather than subtle quotidian nuances (I have no idea whether I used that term correctly ... I'll have to ask Paul). As such, the actors can be seen more as caricatures than three-dimensional people. I think that Paul is looking for a film that can express that level of depth. I was looking for a good time.