By Jill Escher
For two seasons the hit reality TV show “Love on the Spectrum” featured the trials and tribulations of Sydney, Australia area adults on the autism spectrum as they look for love … or at least a successful date or two … or at least companionship. Now the Netflix series has come to the U.S., featuring a cast of six lovable adults, three men and three women, with a wide variety of quirks, charms, and yes, some quite glaring, if endearing, impairments.
Some people might think a review of this docuseries doesn’t belong on NCSA since it does not feature what we would call severe autism. It’s true that the protagonists are high-functioning compared to the population we represent — this cast is verbal, indeed some are extremely articulate, and they lack the severe cognitive deficits and challenging and behaviors that, let’s be honest, the producers would never dream of committing to the screen. But even within the narrow universe of “Love on the Spectrum” type autism, the series is unflinching in revealing striking difficulties faced by pretty much all of the characters, including social naivete, vulnerability, age-inappropriate conversation and interests, and confusion about common rituals. As a viewer you feel an impulse to help and protect the cast members. You feel their heartache and isolation, and you root for their happiness.
Among the women, the most cognitively capable and socially adept is 24 year-old Kaelynn from South Carolina. Photogenic and sweet, she lives a semi-independent life with her best friend, but wants to find a boyfriend despite her difficulty negotiating relationships. Super spunky Dani, who is 26 and lives in the Los Angeles area with her aunt and uncle, is obsessed with animation. She has a ready smile, clipped manner of speaking, and, academically gifted, has obtained BA and MBA degrees. It’s been years since her last date, and she’s ready for love, but her autism puts her in a bit of a no-mans-land. As she explains, neurotypical men think she’s too strange, and guys with ASD think she’s too smart.
Abby, 23, who lives in the San Diego area with her mom, is the most obviously autistic of the three. She was diagnosed at age two, and her mother recalls her early days of constantly chewing on objects. But thankfully her trajectory exceeded early mother’s expectations, and now Abby is a sparkling young woman with flowing blonde hair and abundant interests, including her collection of stuffed animals and princess dolls.
Among the men, the most quasi-typical is Steve, a 62 year-old San Franciscan possessed of an infectiously cheerful disposition, a penchant for punny jokes, and an FM radio announcer voice. Clearly in this iteration the producers made an effort to extend the age range beyond their usual twenty-something boundaries. Despite many obvious autism features Steve had only recently been diagnosed (one can only surmise that he had been given other diagnoses starting in childhood, he mentions his father’s acceptance of his differences with gratitude and affection). Socially naive, and incapable of managing some basic tasks, he has help from a part-time personal aide. He has been single his whole life. “I get really lonely,” he says, “to have a lovely lady, that would be an absolute dream come true.”
James, 34, lives with his elderly parents in Massachusetts. Seemingly diagnosed with Asperger’s in his youth, James was mocked and bullied as a child, and has never had a romantic relationship. His bedroom is full of artifacts reflecting his enthusiasms, including rocks, stamps, and walking canes. When asked by the interviewer about a “conversation piece,” James admits no one had been in his room to converse with — one of many mini-heartbreak moments scattered throughout the six episodes. James had tried online dating, but none of the women agreed to meet him. But he still has hope. “I would not expect to find a radiant unearthly beauty,” he remarks, “but obviously I want a woman who is still fairly attractive to the point that when I see her I do not feel a desire to avert my gaze.” When he lunches with his neurotypical brother, one cannot help but be struck by the wide chasm between his brother’s easygoing, effortlessly social and conversational fluidity, and James’ stilted, formal and awkward approach to conversation.
Subodh, 33, who lives in California with his parents and sister, was perhaps the most classically autistic of the six. He has savant math skills and speaks in a robotic manner. He has never dated—he hardly understands what a date entails—but he and his family are thrilled at the prospect of finding a girlfriend. But it needs to be someone with some overlapping interests: “I like to study world cities and airports!”
So, how do these Super Six fare in their (highly contrived) blind dates? I guess it’s time for a semi-spoiler alert. I’ll share some of the outcomes, or at least outcomes that lasted through the close of filming.
The viewer can see that a fundamental requirement for matchmaking success is the bridge that’s formed when the pair functions at a similar cognitive and social level — diversity may be a beautiful thing but when it comes to love nearly everyone desires their intellectual equal. With that immutable law hovering in the background, the most successful match was with Abby, who was set up with a charismatic young autistic man named David, 26, who oozed child-like sweetness with a bit of chivalry. They express unbridled glee about animals at a local zoo in a way no neurotypical couple ever could. And who would have guessed that Subodh would click with his date? But a young woman with Down syndrome named Rachel was a lovely match, making for an uplifting outcome for a man who had exclaimed, “I haven’t dated a girl in 33 years!” James and Steve have dates that fizzled — partly, I think, because the ladies had somewhat superior social skills — while Kaelynn’s date with a non-autistic young man ended up being a dead end, probably for a similar reason. Dani, however, gives a poetic spectrum bachelor who swoons for her “beautiful essence” a second chance.
For many of us in the autism community, Love on the Spectrum might feel like a goofball charade that too conveniently sidesteps the trauma and poverty pervasive among autism families, but for the majority of viewers I do think they will walk away more curious, patient, and caring about autism — which is definitely a gift from Netflix to the autism community. And it’s not dumdum reality TV fabrication. Netflix labels the series in the “heartwarming” genre not because of the happy endings — it’s pretty clear these people will always face challenges finding love, or even living independently — but because of the inherent unpretentiousness, disarming genuineness, and raw vulnerability of the protagonists. I commend all of them, and their families, for putting their lives and hearts out there for all to see.
Jill Escher is the President of NCSA.
Keywords: “Love on the Spectrum,” Review, Netflix
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