I have a nephew who is profoundly autistic. He's not some secret math whiz or a guy who can't communicate but who can play the piano at a master level. He's a three-year-old trapped in a man's body. He's never going to have the life my brother and his wife wanted for him. He's never going to fall in love or get a job or even live on his own.
It's impossible to know what that life means for him, but for those who love him it's a like you're dying inside a bit each day. The pain of seeing someone you care about trapped in some world you can't reach and can't imagine is a pain that doesn't ever completely go away.
My brother has spent a lot of years living for those moments where his son would show a bit of clarity or have an afternoon where he didn't spend hours sitting on his bed wrapped up in a blanket. You want to think that things will get better. That there's some reason why this is your son's life. You desperately want your child to reach out and touch you. To connect in some way that lets you know that it's not all some cruel joke of fate.
I suppose that desire is part of the reason why so many TV and movie characters who are autistic are also some sort of amazing savant. It's easier to live with the thought that someone has some secret gift you can't see than it is to reconcile yourself to the fact that your son's life is not going to be lived to its fullest potential.
Fox's new drama "Touch" stars Kiefer Sutherland as Martin Bohm, the father of son who doesn't speak. Jake also doesn't like to be touched, he's withdrawn and focuses intently on numbers and patterns that seem random to everyone else in the world. He is autistic, and even though that was apparently mentioned in an earlier version of the episode, this version simply defines him as suffering from some mysterious non-neurotypical symptoms.
Martin Bohm has had a tough ten years. He lost his wife in 9/11 and he's moved from working as a high-powered reporter to a series of dead-end jobs. He's trapped in a life where he spends all of his time caring for a son who might as well be living across the country. He can't touch his son or spend time playing catch. He's never heard his son say "I love you," and yet he's given up everything to take care of him.
That premise would make for an amazing (albeit tough to watch) drama, but since this is a show from "Heroes" creator Tim Kring, Jake turns out to be a boy who isn't impaired. No, he's a kid who sees the hidden connections between people and can help them find their proper destiny.
I won't recap the pilot episode, other than to say that Martin Bohm eventually realizes his son has a gift and that it's his destiny to help make those connections work in real life. And when he does that towards the end of the episode, he's rewarded with a hug from his son. Before he's sent off on his next task.
I don't mind the mystical undertones of "Touch" and the fact that, like "Heroes," the plot often seems cobbled together more by the needs of the script than the desires of the characters.
What I can't get past is that at the end of the day "Touch" is a bit of talented wish fulfillment. We all want those children who seem lost to the world to have some purpose. To have some hidden heroic reason for their pain and their handicap. I understand the need to have at least the hint of a happy ending.
But while that's a fine ambition in real life, it's a cheap dramatic plot point in a television show. In the same way that "killed on 9/11" is used as short hand for grief instead of actually writing it into the character, "autistic savant" lessens the pain and hopelessness of autism.
I want to like "Touch" and I'm sure Tim Kring means well. But at the end of the day, pretend hope is no hope at all. Either on the screen or in real life.
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