The Disappearance Of Disability: Why Do We Lose Representation From Book To Film?

by Allison D'Arienzo

Photo by Eric TERRADE on Unsplash

​​We’ve all heard the phrase “the book was better than the movie,” and in many cases that rings true. Numerous book-to-film adaptations seem to fall short of the expectations of readers who have diligently followed a series from paper to the screen. Countless times I have found myself watching the credits roll after a movie, still fuming because my favorite scene from the book was cut, or the main character’s hair was longer than I had imagined. But what happens when a film adaptation’s cuts and changes become harmful to the communities the book is representing?

Representation of people with disabilities in literature has grown to encompass many groups and has sparked a sense of connection between readers and characters, with whom they may share traits. Oftentimes, however, this representation of disabled characters is watered down or taken out completely when a film adaptation is made. One of the biggest recent examples is Suzanne Collins’s series The Hunger Games. I remember falling in love with the books and anxiously awaiting the release of the movies. I knew that there would be some differences between the books and the movies, and so I braced myself. Yet, I found a concerning pattern in the specific elements that were cut from the movie.

Photo by Olga Tutunaru on Unsplash

​​In the first novel, Peeta Mellark gets attacked by creatures in the arena and ends up severely injuring his leg, which later leads to amputation. From that point on, he is shown in the book with a prosthetic and initially needs a cane to relearn to walk. Along with this, Katniss gets too close to an explosion and goes deaf in one ear for the entirety of the Games. But in the movie, Katniss is only momentarily deaf, and Peeta’s leg injury heals without issue.

Disregarding Katniss’s deafness and Peeta’s prosthetic leg in the movie not only shifts the layout of the plot, but also takes away an integral humanity to the series. Collins does not shy away from giving her characters struggles and because of this the books felt more believable to me. By erasing physical disabilities, the suspension of disbelief weakens because characters can rapidly heal from serious injury. Erasure also lowers the stakes, and therefore leads the audience to believe that nothing permanently harmful could happen to the characters. Furthermore, the books give audience members disability representation, while the movies’ plot point exclusions strip it away. ​

The Hunger Games movies also neglect Collins’s portrayal of neurodivergence and invisible disabilities like PTSD. All the characters process trauma differently, and the books discuss individual experiences. In the books, Peeta and Katniss discuss their shared fears brought on by their experiences in the Games, and there are numerous scenes in which Katniss has flashbacks and nightmares. But there are only a few scenes in the movie where we see the characters mentally struggling. In the books, mental health is a running underlying influence on characters’ actions. I will admit that it is hard to translate an internal monologue into visual scenes in a movie. However, if there were more scenes like the ones of Katniss's panic attack in Mockingjay - Part 1 or her nightmares in Catching Fire, opportunities to discuss characters’ struggles could expand, furthering the representation of mental health issues.

Another book-to-film adaptation that falls short of disability representation is Wonder by R.J. Palacio. The main character, August Pullman, has Treacher Collins Syndrome, which causes facial differences and the need for assistive medical procedures and tools to aid his health. The novel revolves around August’s navigation of life with Treacher Collins and how he fits into spaces with his peers and family.

Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

Because the book centers around August as a character, I had assumed that the movie would do its best to accurately portray him. But again, the disabilities explored in the book were watered down for their on-screen depictions. In Chapter 35 of Wonder, August’s sister Via gives a physical description of August. She mentions things such as,  “his eyes are about an inch below where they should be”; “his nose is disproportionately big for his face”; and “he has a severe overbite and an extremely undersized jawbone.” Only a few descriptors that Via provides are actually shown in the movie with the use of special effects for actor Jacob Tremblay, who plays August.

It would be hard for the movie to encompass all the book’s detailed references, especially with makeup and prosthetics. However, there could’ve been more done to accurately show the character’s facial features. The significance of how August looked was somewhat lost, along with his representation of someone with Treacher Collins Syndrome. Aside from adding more makeup to Tremblay, the movie could’ve avoided the issue altogether by casting an actor that has Treacher Collins Syndrome to play August. By having an actor with the same syndrome as the character, audiences can see a real person successfully depicting and representing their community.

Photo by Diego González on Unsplash

Employing those with disabilities adds a level of accuracy and nuance to the portrayals. An example of this is RJ Mitte playing Walter Jr. in the show Breaking Bad. Because the actor and character has cerebral palsy, the risk of depicting a stereotypical caricature lessens. Even if a book-to-film adaptation is seemingly accurate, there is an underlying dilemma. Able-bodied actors playing characters with disabilities take space and opportunity from actors with relatable life experiences. Examples include the adaptations: Me Before You and The Fundamentals of Caring in which able-bodied actors play characters who need assistive care and use electric wheelchairs. 

Although some may argue that roles for disabled characters are being filled by able-bodied actors simply due to the actors’ extensive experience, there can still be more precedence placed on hiring actors who share their characters’ (dis)abilities. The movie CODA is an example of this. Actor Troy Kotsur, who is deaf, plays the character Frank Rossi, who is also deaf. In this role, Kotsur accrued numerous awards including an Oscar, making him the first deaf man to win an Oscar for acting. Although Kotsur may not have been as well known prior to this role, the choice to cast him for the part created a deeper portrayal of the character, allowing audiences to witness more accuracy in Frank Rossi’s life, the use of American Sign Language, and the dynamic between a deaf parent with a hearing child.

Movie franchises like Wonder and The Hunger Games scratch the surface of disability erasure. As readers, we visualize characters and events in specific ways, and it is important to look for patterns in the ways that movie adaptations take creative liberties with works. Adaptations frequently fall short of representing disabled characters but also many other marginalized communities. By resisting the erasure of these integral character traits, we could aim to change the ways in which franchises decide on what is and what is not important to portray in films.