Content Warning: trauma, bullying, violence, death, micro-aggressions, spoilers

I think i’ll take this week to switch things up with a film analysis.

While i’ve previously discussed autism in contemporary media twice — the film Mary and Max, here, and the U.S. TV series The Office, here — i’ve not done so in a while, nor at such length.

Today i want to explore The Accountant‘s portrayals of autism, disability, and pencak silat (abbr., silat)

I saw it in theaters with my mom in 2016 and loved it. I watched it several months ago for the first time since becoming a self-discovered autist (though not since i had first seen it in theaters) and still loved it.

So i re-watched it this week to write this analysis.

For those unfamiliar, The Accountant is a 2016 movie starring Ben Affleck (portraying our autistic accountant, alias “Christian”) and Anna Kendrick (portraying our allistic accountant, Dana), among other greats, which features multiple disabled protagonists; pencak silat; jiu-jitsu (not mentioned here); Anna Kendrick (did i say that already?); and your cliche, garden-variety montage.

*And without further ado, there be spoilers ahead (i also recently watched The Lighthouse)*

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Let’s begin with the film’s title: The Accountant. Mental calculators in fiction are a long-established trope most-often associated with “savant syndrome“, an inherently (read: historically) ableist and discriminatory concept.

It’s also a real-life stereotype of autists.

That our accountant is autistic, then, is no accident. It’s the direct result (in my opinion) of a socially engrained stereotype combined with one allistic man’s thoughtlessness.

The writer of the film is quoted in an interview, here, speaking to his decision to make the accountant character autistic:

“I’ve always been interested in how the mind works…”

Both the fact that (1) autism (specifically) came to the writer’s mind after learning the character was an accountant, and (2) that his principle reasoning for writing an autistic character was borne solely out of his selfish and privileged “interests” in studying autistic people, speaks volumes (to me) about his decisions.

While he may have consulted with some (how many?) actually autistic individuals during this process — as cited in the above interview — his research also relied on much allist-authored (read: non-autist) research, in addition to guidance from allist-led and ableist organizations such as Autism Speaks.

Yes — there are many autistic people that are accountants/numbers-people. Read, here, a review of this same film by an autistic accountant.

But that’s one reason stereotypes exist in the first place!

Many autists are accountants and mathematicians and numbers-people, and that is awesome. It is also not my experience as an autist who is passionate about people and who abhors numbers.

Because the portrayal of autistic mental calculators is so ubiquitous in contemporary media, it is essential that autism begins to be portrayed properly — i.e., by an array of autistic experiences — if more autists (imo) are to be and feel represented.

More to that point, the film’s only two disabled characters — Christian and Justine — are both White, Western, cis-gender characters portrayed by White, Western, cis-gender, non-disabled actors, when actually autistic/neuro-diverse/disabled Actors of Color are looking for work yet are under- and mis-represented in contemporary media (also cited in the above review by our actually autistic accountant).

Additionally, Justine is barely even on-screen throughout the film!

Just… no.

(To clarify, Justine is a neuro-diverse [diagnosis undeclared] woman Christian befriended as a kid at the neurological institute Christian was first diagnosed. She does not speak with her mouth but with an advanced text-to-speech program on her super-computer. Her character is portrayed off-screen the majority of the film, being featured as a computerized British voice on various telephones and cell phones.)

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The opening: an autistic boy stims as he works on a puzzle upside-down (again, the savant trope).

No wonder Autism Speaks endorsed this movie!

I have nothing wrong with the puzzle simile (i.e., people are like puzzles) when it applies to all people (because i believe that we, and life, are all like puzzles), but this film only applies it to disabled people.

What i do love about this movie, however, is its recognition of stimming behavior across neurology types.

And like Christian, i had (worse) and have (better) sensory sensitivities to clothing and human touch.

But this is not the case for all autists, and these stereotypes of stimming and sensory sensitivity (among others) are portrayed negatively in this film much of the time.

For one thing, not all autists avoid eye-contact (eh-hem, over here…); further, “norm-al” behavior doesn’t really exist, as i’ve stated here.

It irks me when (this) society insists we must make eye-contact when communicating with someone. Like… why? Please; convince me.

And for another thing, the film endorses “autism functioning labels”, a concept i don’t believe in or agree with. You can read more about my thoughts on this here.

The writer also reinforces the “melt-down” stereotype ubiquitous among savant characters in contemporary media.

This negative scene is contrasted, however, by Justine and Christian’s first interaction, whereby Justine witnesses a distressed Christian looking for the one and final piece to his puzzle; finds it; and calmly and kindly offers it to him.

What the writer did here was offer an alternative approach to perceiving a situation often made-out (by allists) to be problematic; auto-matic; and meaningless.

The scene is then (almost) perfectly capped (in my opinion) when Christian places that final piece in his upside-down puzzle, to me symbolizing his completeness purely upon discovering that he is autistic.

That is powerful to me: that once i know my-self, i am complete. My disability is not a missing piece; it is a piece — a peace.

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Fast-forward to present-day and Christian is all growed up, day-lighting as an above-board accountant while moon-lighting as a criminal one.

He displays altruistic and empathic behaviors right-off-the-bat, slyly hinting to his clients how they can save money on their taxes. As an autist, i appreciate here the nullification of the “non-empathic autist” trope.

But oops! Then they go and slip up, likening Christian to a puzzle again.

And to top it all off, they cap the initial accounting scene with a warm, “Thank you,” from the client and a cold, blank response from Christian.

That woman’s comment might not have made some autists smile, but it would certainly make me smile, as someone who loves helping others.

(As you may be beginning to see, the analysis of the portrayal of disabilities in this film will not be straight-forward or black-and-white.)

Case-in-point, the following scene is both (1) a series of “machine-like”; “isolationist”; “habitual/ritualistic” stereotypes with negative connotations and (2) a wonderful representation of my autism (and my other identities, e.g., Western; White; masc-passed; etc).

First, Christian drives his giant truck into his relatively small garage neatly and flawlessly. When i drive, i am also often (too much of) a perfectionist about it.

Then he shows off his cutlery: three utensils, one of each kind. I’ve never actually lived like this, but it’s always been a fantasy of mine.

He also can’t have his food touching. I’ve been this way since i was a child, though i don’t feel the need to do it as often as i used to.

He stims before he touches things. I’m the same way. I stim before i put bagels in and take them out of ovens; before i shmear them; before i pick them up.

He breaks his food into discrete parts, tallying them in his head and pre-meditating his method for eating everything (as efficiently as possible, i’m assuming). I also do this, as having rituals when eating relieves some of the anxiety i experience having to eat.

I hate food. (I’ll write more on this eventually, promise.)

(But when i don’t hate food, it’s breakfast food. So Christian’s all right in my book.)

I’m not sure exactly what character trait they were going for here — and maybe it’s because i personally feel this way — but to me it appears as if Christian prefers to watch him-self as he performs daily routines (i.e., eating), perhaps so he can study his own movements/behaviors, perhaps so he can feel real.

Either way, i resonate with both of those things, and i was affected by them during this movie. I often have trouble maintaining a solid conceptualization of my identity; i experience it as fluid. Like Christian, i look in the mirror regularly, to both (1) observe how i move and (2) feel grounded in my body.

If this is what they were going for: brava! That’s some intricate shit right there. No dialogue. Just Affleck. Acting.

Affleckting.

I digress.

The final scene of our initial introduction to adult Christian and his independent patterns of living is in his bed-room, where the magic happens.

Only the magic is him rolling and beating his shins in the dark with what looks like a thick wooden stick while blasting intense music and flashing a strobe light, all before taking his daily medication.

There’s a lot going on here, so i gotta break this scene down:
(1) i have been conditioning my shins with bamboo and rattan sticks since i was 14 (and my forearms since 22); it’s a martial arts thing; it’s awesome; and it’s not abuse (i have a low pain tolerance, and my bony arms/shins are a decent party trick);
(2) i do not expose my-self to senses that are deeply disturbing to me (i.e., strobes; excessively loud music) because that is abusive; i do, however, expose my-self to the ones i (masochistically) enjoy (i.e., pain; odors);
(3) i don’t engage in masochistic behaviors (i.e., bone conditioning) to repress trauma and abuse my-self but to make my body a weapon and accustom it to pain (i.e., prepare it for [self-]defensive combat); and
(4) i also, like Christian, take medication(s) to manage some of the symptoms of my disabilities/mental ill-health.

Over-all, i thoroughly related to Christian’s intro (as a White, Western, masc-passed person with similar behavioral traits), though i thought it was fairly evenly split between its use of stereotypic cliches and sophisticated nuance.

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But then they go and hit you again with one of those sweet, sweet savant stereotypes. (Though it’s admittedly fun to watch those melons explode.)

I mean, this Christian guy can do it all. He’s a real American hero. (Yes, that’s a critique on Westernism in contemporary media and G.I. Joe. Fight me.)

And… oh no… who’s that… John Lithgow (portraying Lamar) comes in, the most bigoted character of the movie, and immediately begins hurling micro-aggressions at Christian.

(I need to write about micro-aggressions soon, because that term just rubs me the wrong way; “micro” seems like such a minimizing term in the context of abuse.)

Regardless of how much experiencing micro-aggressions sucks, i appreciate their inclusion in contemporary media as a representation of (some of) the abuse autists experience on a daily basis.

(Though i do appreciate people like Dan Levy who intentionally leave out phobias [e.g., homophobia] from their work.)

To relieve the pressure mounted by that sour scene, Christian subsequently has his first at-length (and rather humorous) interaction with Dana over lunch.

Christian even cracks a joke and a smirk toward the end of their conversation, farting in the general direction of both stereotypes that autists lack (1) sarcastic humor and (2) emotional expression.

I particularly resonate with Christian’s dry sarcasm, as an autist whose jokes are frequently (mis)taken for legitimate questions.

…and then, just as soon as i thought i couldn’t resonate with him more…

The montage scene!

Complete with cuff roll-ups; specialized implements (love) lined up neatly in rows (double-love); and a dramatic close-up (WITH STIMMING) (*swoon*), i knew from the get-go that this was gonna be an instant classic.

Queue:

Fading, over-lapping, nonsensical numerical mumblings.
Insignificant over-lays.
Spread-sheets.
Beautiful, dorky victory dances. (Yes to this. Always.)
And, lastly, the obligatory hommage to A Beautiful Mind’s needless window-writing scenes (a film which [in my opinion] pioneered the “savant montage” in contemporary media, as i’m now calling it).

But wait, it gets better! The montage is over, but it does get better!

We then flash back to Jakarta (Indonesia), where we see a young Christian (with his older brother, Braxton) practicing pencak silat for the first time. (Their father is in the army and travels around the world, bringing his sons with him.)

Upon my first viewing of The Accountant in 2016 i had known of and been practicing pencak silat for one year, and this was my first time seeing it represented in Western media. I was so excited!

Not only to be able to recognize some of the silat (e.g., flexible weapons [sarung]) but to be seeing it portrayed accurately (from my [little] understanding).

Flash-forward again to present-day and Christian is brawling with a hunk-of-a-mustachioed-man. The man flashes a knife (that’s not a knife!), and Christian — recalling his flexible weapons training — whips off his belt and straight-up kills this guy with it after collecting his intel (using a traditional silat technique from kuntau tekpi).

(He also kicks him correctly — leaning back slightly; thrusting his hips forward; and snapping his leg back.)

Now that’s some real silat. H/t to whom-ever choreographed the silat in this film. There are a couple more silat scenes toward the end that i’ll analyze later.

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After rescuing Dana (i hate the White-knight and damsel-in-distress tropes in this movie) and taking her to the fanciest hotel he can find (which he adorably admits was to impress her), we see some much-needed humanity in Christian.

There are many social autists out there. I am an autist that (largely) resonates with asocial autists — such as Christian — whose lack of communicative out-reach is not symbolic of his (or my) desires but the result of his (or my) disability.

I also doubly-appreciate the writer’s decision to avoid (physical) sexuality and instead highlight friendship/romance for its representation of (1) asexual autists; (2) asexual romantics; and (3) non-sexual relationships in Western media.

Though this does reinforce the stereotype of the asocial autist who is uncomfortable around sexuality and romance. (I’m married.)

Despite its pitfalls, this movie packs in many complex and important topics.

It goes on to address bullying in addition to death and grief (the death of Christian/Braxton’s mom and murder of their father, though i’ll save the conversation of death for an-other time).

I do, however, have some bones to pick with the representation of bullying here.

I think it’s great that they address bullying in the first place (particularly of both autistic children and adults), and i appreciate the significance in young-Christian’s ability to strike a balance between empathy toward his bullies and recognizing that their behaviors are wholly their responsibility.

I don’t think it’s great, however, the way they emphasize a fear toward bullies (a rhetoric i hear often, unfortunately), and i do not concur with the notion that a fear of difference is what makes bullies behave the way they do.

I was bullied greatly for being “different” (e.g., wearing colorful clothing; wearing makeup; having long hair; being a Jew; being thin; etc.), and i don’t believe my bullies were “scared” of that. I believe they were scared of being vulnerable, and that they were envious of my ability to be vulnerable.

But then i learned how to kick correctly, and i never got bullied again.

(To make a long story short: i met one of my best friends [bless you, Brian] in the final year of middle-school who introduced me to pradal serey — or kun khmer — and i became confident enough to defend my-self after three months of training; hence, the following anecdote.)

One cool and sunny morning in middle-school, while returning to class from the cafeteria in droves, a peer (bully) of mine flat-tired me (what the youths refer to as [disrespectfully] stepping on the back of one’s shoe as they walk, thus rendering them un-shoed).

Without a hesitation — without even knowing who it was (though i did know they were a bully) — i whipped around; pushed his head back by his neck from underneath his chin (to avoid damaging his throat); slammed him against the nearest wall i could find; and told him if he and his friends didn’t stop bullying me i would rip his cheeks out with my teeth (to avoid damaging his cheeks).

It was an empty threat (i would never actually have done that — although… who really knows), but i said it like i really, really fucking wanted to. Like it was my nature. Like a tiger.

As i watched his eyes shake in their sockets, i didn’t just see his fear; i felt it.

And then i heard it:

“Dude… take a chill!”

He was so afraid, he couldn’t decide between saying “take a chill pill” or “chill out”!

Like i said, after that, i was never bullied again. (Though this anecdote is not to say [1] that every-one needs to learn martial arts, [2] that martial arts will always solve the problem, or [3] that violence is the only solution.)

But while we’re on the topic of martial arts…

More silat! Yay!

Not only is there more silat, it’s the (final) show-down of the whole film: Christian versus Braxton; brother versus brother; autist versus allist.

Spoiler: Christian wins.

Obviously.

But let’s break down the silat here, because it’s the real deal. (Bear in mind, these sequences last only one-to-two seconds each, speed and reflex being key principles in silat.)

Sequence #1:
Braxton throws a punch to the face: defend and reset (remember, fights are high-adrenaline scenarios, and sometimes it’s necessary to reset and wait before responding if one is not prepared to respond quickly enough).

Sequence #2:
Braxton throws a hook to the face: defend and respond (here Christian demonstrates the latter technique out-lined above, efficiently defending the hook with the out-side of his forearm by stopping Braxton’s hook before the apex of its motion and simultaneously striking Braxton’s throat [or face, hard for me to tell] with his other hand).

Sequence #3:
Braxton responds with another (why?) punch to the face: defend/respond/take down (Christian uses a traditional silat take-down here, [sometimes] referred to as a biset).

Not only does Christian initiate the biset correctly — he even finishes it correctly, maintaining (1) an upright spinal position (or, alif) and (2) proper distance (i.e., not too close and not too far) between him-self and Braxton upon slamming him into the ground.

Additionally, that Christian successfully takes down and subdues Braxton within three sequences demonstrates silat’s aggressive and preventative approach to self-defense.

*applauds*

Well done Accountant. Well done.

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Sadly, that is the last of the silat in the film, but the ending contains (in my opinion) some of the best messages the film has to offer, so please bear with me a moment longer.

After their fight, Christian and Braxton have a beautiful conversation. Braxton lovingly jokes about Christian’s lack of conversational back-and-forths, and whereas this might be perceived as a micro-aggression in other contexts, it feels familial and compassionate in this one (to me).

And to round out the whole scene, Christian finally gets to complete something, while simultaneously making a double-entendre (i.e., that he knows how it feels [1] to be whole personally, as a diagnosed autist and a person that just completed something; as well as [2] to make others whole, being a savvy, empathic accountant).

At long last we have arrived at the end of the film. You’ve read about 3,000 words so far! High-five. Only 400 left. 🙂

Christian’s White; Western; cis-gender diagnostician, speaking to a White; Western; cis-gender/”straight” couple about their non-verbal son, rightly questions whether-or-not allists (such as him-self) have been using the proper methods for gauging intelligence among autists.

Beautiful. Just really nice. Allists are on to something here.

Then they throw in this little gem about the harms of the (very real) low expectations too often placed on autistic/neuro-diverse children.

So good! Keep ’em comin’, guy.

Dammit. :/ No! I mean, sure, i often have difficulty feeling/understanding/expressing my emotions/experiences, but this type of thinking, like low expectations, is a slippery slope.

…aaaaand there. Now they got it. I believe it is much more likely that it is allists who have trouble understanding autists (and gauging their intelligence).

Phew. A good save, that.

And to conclude on a (relatively) positive note — because over-all i enjoy this movie quite a lot — Justine’s abilities in this film (e.g., her ability to use that super-computer; her knowledge of [English] language; her powerful ability to empathize; etc.) are (to me) a moderately decent representation of neuro-diverse and disabled people’s strengths.

The film then closes gracefully as “Christian”, shedding his old identity (hereafter, “Boone”), smiles contently and drives off — alone — up in-to the mountains.

Like Boone’s culinary simplicity, it has always been a fantasy of mine to live alone amongst the trees. Not just by my-self but away from every-one else, too.

Alas, i fantasize.

‘Tis but a movie.

❁

Thoughts? Leave a comment; start a conversation! Thank you for reading.