Unfortunately, you probably won’t be able to find this gem in your theater.  It’s playing on two screens in all of New York City, which means it’s probably on less than ten screens nation-wide.

I can’t say for sure, but I’d bet money that the film is autobiographical, as writer/director Elissa Down conveys such an intimate knowledge and understanding of living with autism that it can’t possibly be pure fiction.  Stories like this come from experience.

Rather than setting out to make a film about autism, The Black Balloon seeks only to document a month in the life of Thomas Mollison.  The presence of his autistic brother Charlie is just a part of the backdrop - another notch in what is daily reality for Thomas.  Also in this landscape are the “normal” things that make the film so brilliantly identifiable to audiences of all ages.  This teenage boy can’t swim, but has to for his gym class.  This boy is embarrassed by his brother’s condition, and having to ride the special-ed bus when his parents can’t bring him to school. 

That’s the beauty of The Black Balloon.  It doesn’t romanticize mental retardation in the spirit of an American film (see Forrest Gump).  Instead, it faces the daily challenges: cooking breakfast, going to the grocery store, the frustration of dealing with one who can’t communicate on the expected level.

I found laughter a strange element of the audience I saw this film with; people seemed reluctant to do so, even in moments clearly intended to be funny.  Cultural stigmas, of course, forbid laughing at the expense of the handicapped - and it took the audience some time to find its balance, to figure out when laughter was permitted.  Part of the  complex genius of The Black Balloon is its ability to give us permission to laugh - its gentle reminder that there is a time for laughter, and a time for tears.  And that the people who live with this are just people, flawed and frustrated and full of love, just like we are.

There isn’t a single weak link in the production.  The script is tight and unobtrusive.  Denson Baker’s cinematography is absolutely breathtaking - some of the best I’ve seen this year.  The cast plays out some incredibly difficult scenarios with complete commitment.  Toni Collette’s Maggie is so loving and stubborn; she’s sure to remind every viewer of someone they’ve known.  Erik Thomson’s Simon is so strong and resolute - the rock-hard father who plays out the hand the world dealt him with dignity and self respect.  Gemma Ward’s Jackie Masters is so likeable that one can’t help fall in love with her as Thomas does.  And Rhys Wakefield carries the film with finesse and realism, as tormented as a teenage dealing with these situations would be.

If you can find this one in your area, consider nothing else.  Any part of you that ever mocked or pitied the handicapped will melt away and be replaced by tears of beauty and respect.