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Flicks - The Black Balloon The Black Balloon depicts, without a trace of sentimentality, a family struggling with autism. by Chris Dashiell - The Film Snob Skillfully navigating the risks involved in movies about disabled or challenged people, the new Australian film The Black Balloon depicts, without a trace of sentimentality, a family struggling with autism. Ellisa Down, the director and co-writer making her feature debut, knows something about the subject, having grown up with two autistic brothers. Within its mainstream approach, the film doesn't hesitate to show us how difficult it can be to care for an autistic family member.
As the picture opens, it's the 1980s, and the Mollison family has recently moved into a suburb of Sydney. Shy teenager Tom, played by Rhys Wakefield, has trouble adjusting in his new school, and he's self-conscious about his older brother Charlie, played by Luke Ford, who communicates in sign language and alternates between hyperactive giggling and rash, unpredictable behavior, including tantrums that can quickly get out of control. Taking care of Charlie requires constant patience, attention, and love, provided in a big way by his mother Maggie, played by the wonderful actress Toni Collette. Pregnant with a third child, Maggie is forced to take it easy, which leaves her genial husband Simon and son Tom in charge. Charlie promptly starts to wreak havoc.
Tom is our point-of-view character here, and the movie wisely explores the conflicting feelings of a normal kid who has to deal with a special needs sibling. He loves Charlie, but he can't help but be ashamed of him sometimes too, as his schoolmates mercilessly tease him for having what they call a "spaz" as a brother. His own feelings shift constantly between love and hate, and Ford's utterly convincing portrayal of Charlie allows us to understand this completely. Charlie's behavior is exhausting, and often irritating or disturbing, and although he's sometimes adorable as well, Down never uses this character for inspiration or uplift. He is what he is, and that's the most compassionate treatment you could ask for from a film.
A budding romance between Tom and a comely fellow student played by newcomer Gemma Ward provides some relief from the narrative tension, and there's a good feeling for the humor needed in a family like this in order to get by. Toni Collette, whose lack of star ego allows her to take on just about any role out there, is the movie's anchor, the epitome of tough, loving motherhood.
The title image is a symbol for a childhood different from what we've been taught to expect. Yet the pain and joy is no less real.