They’re often called “children of the stars,” and as this documentary’s Chinese title suggests, they tend to feel lost trying to navigate this earth. But in Among Us (地球迷航) the children are adults, who have been diagnosed with autism since they were young.
All four of them face different challenges, have varying degrees of independence and can appear quite neurotypical on the surface — the autism spectrum is broad, something often misunderstood by the public. Among US does a good job of portraying this range, from Ting-wei (廷瑋), who has difficulties speaking and controlling his body but is a brilliant, expressive poet, to the highly imaginative Hui-lun (惠綸), who holds several part-time jobs and at one point leaves home for a week after arguing with his mother.
Despite this, the demographic range is limited: all four subjects are males, with three of them in their 20s. While autism is generally three to four times as prevalent in boys, it would have been worthwhile to see things from a female perspective.
Photo courtesy of Among Us
This film is a sequel to acclaimed director Lin Cheng-sheng’s (林正盛) 2010 documentary Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars (一閃一閃亮晶晶), which portrayed four autistic children and teens. It’s a familiar topic to Lin, as his wife Han Shu-hua (韓淑華) is an art therapist who has worked with people of all ages on the autism spectrum for nearly two decades. Each film took four years to make, and the comfort level and intimacy shown in Among Us is apparent.
The impetus behind the film is DB Art Collective (多寶藝術學堂) in Taipei’s Guandu (關渡) area, which Han launched in 2016 to help people on the autism spectrum express themselves artistically, gain life skills and plan activities. To spread awareness about autism, Lin launched a crowdfunding project to get the film into theaters and also have it sent to elementary schools.
The art collective is a wonderful conduit to portray the creativity and rich inner worlds of the subjects. All of them have loving parents who encourage them to express themselves through poetry, art and music. A big part of the film revolves around this relationship, which is not always easy, and the parents worry about what will happen to their children after they’re gone.
Photo courtesy of Among Us
Lin portrays the subjects’ vibrant imaginations, and they feel quite comfortable sharing their inspiration with the camera, expressively drawing or playing music.
Despite their talents, Lin doesn’t sugarcoat their situation or hype up their abilities, as autistic people being geniuses is a common stereotype, although only 10 percent of those with autism are savants. It’s more of a matter-of-fact, direct portrayal that isn’t sensational or emotional; they’re just as human as everyone else, just a bit different.
Although the cutesy animations and bouncy electronic soundtrack implies these adults are childlike, it does reflect their whimsical and fantastic inner worlds and serves to lighten the mood. Despite their many interests and evident progress during the time Lin has known them, the hard truth is they aren’t able to live regular lives, something that they are acutely aware of and upset about.
Photo courtesy of Among Us
As Ting-wei types in one scene, “My teachers told me that I would never be able to learn; I was anguished, I was furious but I couldn’t speak and refute them.”
“I want to go somewhere in outer space,” he types in another scene.
As society increasingly embraces cultural diversity, one message that the film sends to the viewer is that people who are neurologically different have much to offer.
Photo courtesy of Among Us
The film doesn’t reach any conclusions about how the subjects can survive and even thrive after their parents pass away, or explore what happens to those with less supportive or resourceful families, but the first step is to promote understanding so that there is even the possibility of a friendly future where they can exist among us. This touching documentary does just that.
The Nuremberg trials have inspired filmmakers before, from Stanley Kramer’s 1961 drama to the 2000 television miniseries with Alec Baldwin and Brian Cox. But for the latest take, Nuremberg, writer-director James Vanderbilt focuses on a lesser-known figure: The US Army psychiatrist Douglas Kelley, who after the war was assigned to supervise and evaluate captured Nazi leaders to ensure they were fit for trial (and also keep them alive). But his is a name that had been largely forgotten: He wasn’t even a character in the miniseries. Kelley, portrayed in the film by Rami Malek, was an ambitious sort who saw in
It’s always a pleasure to see something one has long advocated slowly become reality. The late August visit of a delegation to the Philippines led by Deputy Minister of Agriculture Huang Chao-ching (黃昭欽), Chair of Chinese International Economic Cooperation Association Joseph Lyu (呂桔誠) and US-Taiwan Business Council vice president, Lotta Danielsson, was yet another example of how the two nations are drawing closer together. The security threat from the People’s Republic of China (PRC), along with their complementary economies, is finally fostering growth in ties. Interestingly, officials from both sides often refer to a shared Austronesian heritage when arguing for
Among the Nazis who were prosecuted during the Nuremberg trials in 1945 and 1946 was Hitler’s second-in-command, Hermann Goring. Less widely known, though, is the involvement of the US psychiatrist Douglas Kelley, who spent more than 80 hours interviewing and assessing Goring and 21 other Nazi officials prior to the trials. As described in Jack El-Hai’s 2013 book The Nazi and the Psychiatrist, Kelley was charmed by Goring but also haunted by his own conclusion that the Nazis’ atrocities were not specific to that time and place or to those people: they could in fact happen anywhere. He was ultimately
Nov. 17 to Nov. 23 When Kanori Ino surveyed Taipei’s Indigenous settlements in 1896, he found a culture that was fading. Although there was still a “clear line of distinction” between the Ketagalan people and the neighboring Han settlers that had been arriving over the previous 200 years, the former had largely adopted the customs and language of the latter. “Fortunately, some elders still remember their past customs and language. But if we do not hurry and record them now, future researchers will have nothing left but to weep amid the ruins of Indigenous settlements,” he wrote in the Journal of