It’s not often that a movie outrages an entire demographic of people, long before it’s released. Such is the case of Music, a February-release directed by singer-songwriter Sia and starring Maddie Ziegler, Kate Hudson, and Leslie Odom Jr. The musical drama recounts the tale of Music, a nonverbal autistic girl, and her newly sober, older half-sister, Kazu, who abruptly becomes Music’s sole guardian.
Widespread criticism, however, from the disabled community and its allies ensued almost instantaneously after Sia announced the film with its trailer in the late fall of 2020. The criticism surrounded the decision to cast Maddie Ziegler as Music rather than someone who is actually autistic.
From the trailer alone, people took to social media, criticizing Sia’s casting choice of an able-bodied actor––which is not necessarily surprising to Sia fans, as Maddie Ziegler has been her “face” since 2014. Sia launched into a “fiery debate,” as several news outlets called it, on Twitter. She explained that she cast Zeigler in the role as casting someone at “that level of functioning” would be “cruel not kind.” In response to backlash about not having input from actual people with autism in the production process, Sia noted that they had been working with Autism Speaks––an organization that in recent years has become known as a hate organization.
Within the very first seconds of the film, I could see what the concerns were about: Ziegler immediately begins overdramatizing facial expressions and grunts and cries… attempts to imitate the behavior of someone with a disability she does not have. With the context that generally I have respected Zeigler’s artistry growing up, I felt viscerally disturbed by her mimicking an autistic meltdown––something so unique to the individual, but also so painful and vulnerable, being used for general entertainment. Anytime we as a society use someone’s pain for another’s entertainment is a time we have strayed from loving our neighbor.
There are some valuable points interspersed throughout––a narrative of love and friendship develops between Zu and neighbor Ebo, as he teaches Zu how to love Music and care for her needs, like using deep-pressure therapy (DPT). My conclusion––exemplified by Music randomly being gifted a service dog like one would get a regular puppy––is that it’s a sweet story, but anyone who lives in the realm of disability knows that this is just not how it works. The film is oversimplifying and reinforcing stereotypes that are not helpful and sometimes harmful. For example, please don’t ever put your full body weight on someone having an autistic meltdown without consent and training.
The narrative of growth over the course of the film is important for Catholics to hear, but it is far from complete, and it is certainly from an imperfect source––but isn’t that the nature of our faith: learning lessons of growth from broken sources in a broken world?
Apart from the actual content of the film, the lessons for Catholics lie in the drama surrounding the film’s release. I am of the opinion that Zeigler is not at fault for her performance, as it all should have been discerned differently long before casting ever was questioned. Given that it did happen, it is an opportunity for Catholics to deeply realize the capability and value of disabled members of the Church.
Sia, in conversations around the film, said that she would never view Music as “disabled” but rather “specially-abled.” This insinuates that there’s something to be ashamed about being disabled.
Perhaps the first place for growth is to ask yourself, “am I uncomfortable with the use of the word ‘disabled’ through reading this article even?” Disabled is not a bad word. Rather, it is a descriptor, and for many disabled people, there is a level of pride attached to identified as such. It is countercultural to wear a badge of honor in the form of an identity that the world shoves aside. And, more importantly, it captures suffering, grit, and resilience. It describes that our lives are different, and things like showering, writing, speaking, seeing, and “simple” actions like walking up the church aisle to receive communion, are either complicated or downright impossible. We have different needs. And by no means does proudly wearing this descriptor translate to glamorizing or glorifying this immense suffering––see it as a Cross, and don’t diminish its weight by skipping over Good Friday to Easter Sunday. Let this film be a reminder to listen to input, voices, and stories of our disabled brothers and sisters in Christ.
Featured image of Maddie Ziegler in ‘Music’ from Vertical Entertainment
Previously the Campus News Editor and Catholicism 101 Editor, Olivia dabbles in The Torch’s writing and photography. She is a senior studying theology and applied psychology and human development with a minor in journalism. She is unashamedly passionate about youth ministry, Haiti, all things charismatic, the Oxford comma, and CatholicTV––where she can often be found as an on-camera news reporter or host of the To the Heights podcast.
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