My Left Foot (1989)

Put quite simply: Daniel Day Lewis is the God of Acting. His small but powerful body of work provides concrete evidence for the existence of the Greek Muses. He so completely embodies the roles he takes that Lewis’ talent seems otherworldly. On anyone else, the term method acting will most likely invoke groans and visions of arrogant on-set demands and bizarre behavior. But Day’s obsession with his craft and insistence on remaining in character during shooting comes off as endearing and important, and you can’t argue with the results. His role in My Left Foot catapulted him to elite acting status, and it’s easy to see why. Lewis’ performance never feels forced, it is as naturalistic as possible for an able-bodied actor playing a disabled character.

The film is an adaptation of Irish author Christy Brown’s 1954 autobiography of the same title; the book and movie roughly cover the first twenty-two years of his life. Brown was born with a rather severe case of cerebral palsy, identified when he is an infant, and his parents make the key decision of keeping him home rather than sending him to an institution (the more commonly taken route at the time). Growing up poor and one of a large number of children, everyone but his mother assumes he is mentally handicapped as well as physically because he is unable to communicate beyond a series of grunts; that is, until around the age of ten when he learns to write with the only fully-functioning body part — his left foot. Over the course of his teen years, Christy develops a love and affinity for painting and writing, and is treated as an equal by his family. He eventually attracts the attention of a palsy specialist who improves both his speech and movement capabilities, and encourages his artistic talents.

Unlike some of the current round of biopics (The Theory of Everything, The Imitation Game, Steve Jobs, etc.), My Left Foot never feels like Oscar bait. This is the kind of filmmaking in which the Irish excel: telling tales of hardship plainly and honestly. The direction itself is without flair, but that’s partly the point. They don’t need emotionally charged montages with perfectly timed musical swells to deliver the story, just put the camera in front of the actors and let them go. The other performers in the film deserve as much credit as Lewis (especially Brenda Fricker, who plays his mother), because none of the characters devolve into caricatures or tropes, even though the potential is there (tortured genius, long suffering mother, alcoholic father, pregnant teen sister, etc.).

One of the best things about this film is its representation of someone who is handicapped as a person, not some saintly figure to initially feel sorry for and then proud of his accomplishments. Disabled people can be assholes too. Typically filmmakers, producers, and studios are so worried about offending someone or contributing to an existing stereotype that they sanitize any character traits that may not present someone in the best light. While My Left Foot is not completely accurate in its depiction of Christy Brown’s life, its main character is still one of the most well-rounded disabled characters to grace the silver screen. The physical affliction may explain some of the man’s determination and fierceness but it does not define him, as his intellect and his work do.

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