BLIND: Nothing To See Here, Folks

No one producing a film want it to court controversy before it’s released, and I can imagine the producers of Michael Mailer’s debut film Blind were none too pleased when a respected organization that advocates for people with disabilities, the Ruderman Family Foundation, came out against the film by criticizing a particular casting decision. Namely: that Alec Baldwin, an actor who can see perfectly well in real life, was playing a character who couldn’t.

The foundation’s president, Jay Ruderman, accused the film of participating in “crip-face,” a term that describes the casting of able-bodied actors for characters that live with a disability. Ruderman was not afraid to equate it with blackface, a practice that anyone will agree is offensive by today’s standards. Unfortunately, masquerading as disabled—heck, one can also include masquerading as a different sexual orientation—does not seem to be much of an issue for some working in the film industry, and so able-bodied and straight actors are shuffled into the realm of make-believe, usually with only a cursory idea of the people and groups they’re trying to represent by proxy.

Yet when this ends up disenfranchising those who are disabled, and those who are a part of the LGBTQ community, it becomes an issue that shouldn’t be ignored any longer. Because there are many talented people out there with real-life experience to bring to these roles. There are people with an ingrained, intuitive understanding of exclusion, prejudice, and self-doubt that cannot be simulated with as much success by those who’ve lived otherwise privileged and normal lives.

This is why I was so pleased that Edgar Wright’s Baby Driver had an actual deaf actor, CJ Jones, portray a deaf character—a role that he understood to the bone, which allowed him to turn in a fantastic performance that never hit a false note. This is in contrast to Blind in its entirety, which is so full of false notes that it’s hard to believe it even exists. Let’s do a rundown of them, shall we?

The Blind Man and the Socialite

The plot of this film is supremely thin, but in a nutshell: Alec Baldwin plays a writer and literature professor named Bill Oakland who was blinded in a car accident that killed his wife some time before the film begins. The tragedy leaves him perpetually moody and cynical.

Enter Suzanne Dutchman (Demi Moore), a wealthy socialite whose husband Mark (Dylan McDermott) is arrested for illegal business dealings. Because there’s not enough evidence to convict her, Suzanne is sentenced to 100 hours of community service, which she must fulfill at the local institute for the blind. She is assigned to help Bill read his students’ papers, and though she takes a strong dislike to him at first, her feelings soften when she gets to know him.

As soon as their relationship blossoms, Mark is released from prison after the key witness in his case is mysteriously killed (a coincidence that the film never bothers to resolve). Like any husband in a tale of adulterous love, he is almost insanely jealous of Bill from the get-go, and tries to force him to stop seeing Suzanne. Bill ignores his threats, but Suzanne decides to honor her marital vows and put an end to her affair. Are we in for an unhappy ending? If you’re unfortunate enough to watch this film, you’ll find out.

Effortless… But Not in a Good Way

The first thing one notices about Blind is how devoid it is of any sort of liveliness. I’m not exaggerating when I say that practically everything about this production is flat and dull. The color grading is perpetually washed out, the jazz-based soundtrack operates on autopilot (except for one bizarre segment that is tracked to a cheesy number sung by Robert Redford, of all people), both the directing and editing are incredibly average, and none of the performances feel particularly authentic. McDermott plays Mark like your run-of-the-mill villain, replete with ominous line readings, hammy meltdowns, and smarmy smiles. There’s nothing new to what he brings to the table, and it badly shows.

Moore, meanwhile, is a quieter presence, and manages to shine in a few select moments. On the whole, though, her character is a one-note creature whose tribulations are hard to care about (she’s a rich, entitled woman being taken down a peg, after all), and Moore does nothing to elevate the proceedings to an acceptable level. Indeed, it’s very hard to understand why Bill falls for Suzanne in the first place when she’s so bland and nondescript. We’re just forced to accept that that’s what happens, which, for me, is not good enough.

As for Baldwin, he’s probably the best in show here, but only because he has a knack for playing charming jerks. It’s familiar territory for him, and the only difference here is that this particular jerk is a blind one. In that area, he’s only half-convincing. Brandishing a cane and purposely looking away from the people you’re speaking to can only take you so far. Had a truly visually-impaired actor been able to play this role, I’m sure he would’ve dug into Bill’s prickly personality with greater insight and emotion than Baldwin does. It certainly would’ve made this endeavor worthwhile.

What’s Sex Got to Do with It?

…Or maybe not. For, you see, there’s another aspect of Blind that bugs the crap out of me that has nothing to do with Alec Baldwin’s casting. It’s the fact that this film has nothing meaningful to say about blind lifestyles. In effect, it’s more interested in fetishizing disability than contending with its nuances, glories and hardships.

I should have clocked in to this as soon as I saw the scene in which the director of the blind institute, Ella (Eden Epstein), first rattles off her list of dos and don’ts to a fellow named Gavin (Steven Prescod) when he volunteers to read to Bill before Suzanne takes over. She’s telling him how to treat Bill with dignity, but her intonation never veers from a bored cursoriness, as though none of that stuff is in the least bit interesting. The film seems to agree with her on that front.

Instead, the film is more interested in viewing Bill’s blindness as the kinky spark that ignites Suzanne’s love for him. In one sexually-charged scene, Suzanne slowly unbuttons her blouse while she reads to Bill, knowing that he cannot see her but still enacting the role of seductive temptress. Her excuse is that the room is too hot—but when someone catches her in the act, down to her translucent lace bra, the point of the scene is not lost on the viewer: Bill’s blindness is something of a turn-on to her.

Then, in perhaps the most cringeworthy scene of the film, Bill caresses Suzanne’s face while they’re at his place, and she confesses her wish to experience the world as he does—see the way that he sees. And how does she propose to do that, you ask? In her hand she grasps a blindfold. Yes, a blindfold. Maybe she was watching Fifty Shades of Grey the night before, but the whole thing is as subtle as putting earplugs in to simulate deafness. There’s no two ways about it—disability is nothing more than a fetish here, and it ends up making the film an outright embarrassment to watch.

Conclusion

Devoid of any subtlety, bereft of a strong plot, and being embarrassingly misguided toward its disability narrative (which includes casting the able-bodied Alec Baldwin instead of a legitimately visually-impaired actor), Blind really has nothing to recommend it. We might have been more forgiving had it been made in, say, the 1980s; the fact that something so torpid and reductive was made only recently is, frankly, quite shocking. We are much, much better than this.

The only upside of this is the fact that Blind is likely going to come and go without any fanfare, as easily forgotten as it is forgettable. After having seen it, I cannot see anything different happening. It’s the only fate it deserves.

What are some other films with disability narratives that you think do a disservice to their subjects? Let us know in the comments below!

Blind will be released in the U.S. on July 14^th, both in theaters and on video on demand.