Deaf Culture in Hollywood:
American Sign Language on Screen

(excerpt)

Prior to 1965, the elusive term “Deaf culture” was primarily recognized within Deaf communities.

The hearing world viewed deafness simply as the condition of hearing loss, and wondered how a group who did not claim any particular geographical space, religion, literature, or cuisine could be called “cultural.”

Carol Padden and Tom Humphries sought to define Deaf culture in Deaf in America: Voices from a Culture (1988). They used the lowercase “deaf” for the audiological condition of hearing loss and the capital “Deaf” when referring to a particular group who claim a shared history, set of practices, and most importantly, a common language: American Sign Language (ASL).

Although they have appeared on screen since the silent film era, Deaf characters have also routinely been subject to misrepresentation. Historically, hearing actors were regularly cast in Deaf roles, with the assumption that learning rudimentary signs would suffice to convey the Deaf experience.

This recurring practice can be seen as recently as 2017, with Julianne Moore’s portrayal of a Deaf character in Todd Haynes’s Wonderstruck. Randa Haines’s film adaptation of the Broadway play, Children of a Lesser God (1986) achieved wide critical acclaim after featuring Deaf actor Marlee Matlin in the leading role, for which she went on to win an Academy Award. But while ASL features prominently in the film, its presence is significantly diminished by the fact that a hearing character is responsible for the telling of a Deaf protagonist’s story.

FILMING ASL

One of the very first films made in the United States featured a Deaf woman reciting the “Star Spangled Banner” in sign language. Dated 1902, the project was among a collection of segments made by Thomas Edison to demonstrate the “potential for moving picture films.” Nearly ten years later, the National Association for the Deaf (NAD) endeavored to produce their own films in hopes of advancing sign language and promoting Deaf people’s experiences throughout the United States. They wanted to show not only that Deaf people had something to say, but that they could say it in their own language. What remains is a remarkable set of images that preserves what sign language looked like at the turn of century.

The silent film era was a moment in time when hearing and Deaf audiences could enjoy the cinema on a comparatively equal basis, with the exception of the live orchestra. Deaf actors were also fortunate to be able to find work in Hollywood, including Charlie Chaplin’s long-time Deaf friend and actor, Granville Redmond. Deaf performers regularly played hearing characters on screen, and when they were cast in Deaf roles, they were often reduced to playing victims alienated from society or entirely dependent upon others. As Hollywood transitioned to talking pictures, Deaf actors who had previously worked in the industry discovered they were no longer wanted, and hearing actors began to play Deaf characters in stereotyped forms.

This practice continued for decades in Hollywood. In 1969, Alan Arkin secured an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of John Singer in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (Miller 1969). The New York Times praised his performance as “extraordinary, deep and sound; his use of his hands seems quite normal and personal, and when he walks in the night, talking, with his hands to himself, it seems a perfect dramatic expression of what the thinking is.”

John Schuchman argues that this review provides a perfect example for “the abysmal lack of understanding of deafness and the power and beauty of sign language.” Hearing actors’ signing was awkward at best, with words often misspelled or signs done incorrectly.

After playing Deaf Smith in Deaf Smith and Johnny Ears (Cavara 1973), Anthony Quinn observed that “if every actor could play a deafmute once, it would be the best thing that could happen to him. I had to react to everything and everyone around me. It was a terrific experience for an actor.” Similarly, Alan Arkin recounted his experience while working on the set of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, recognizing that Deaf people are “as multicolored and varied emotionally as they can be,” but the “one thing that the affliction does seem to cause is a great sense of isolation.”

In a direct response to the Deaf community's complaints regarding Hollywood’s failure to hire Deaf talent, Paramount cast newcomer Marlee Matlin in the critically acclaimed Children of a Lesser God (1986). It was the first time in nearly sixty years that a Deaf person had been cast in a major Hollywood role. In fact, Deaf actors were cast in all of the film’s Deaf roles.

First written as a stage play by Mark Medoff, the film received enthusiastic support before and after its release. Matlin went on to win the Academy Award in the leading actress category, and William Hurt received a nomination. Hurt plays James Leeds, a speech pathology teacher hired to teach Deaf students to speak with their voices, and Matlin plays Sarah, a school custodian vehemently opposed to speaking. After mutual disdain for one another, the pair eventually fall in love and move in together. The ensuing narrative follows their tumultuous relationship as they try to cope with competing worldviews.

For the duration of the film, James interprets all of Sarah’s ASL dialogue out loud, presumably to himself, but clearly for the benefit of a hearing audience. There are no subtitles.

Our first introduction to Sarah is from James's point of view in the school cafeteria. He hears a crash from the kitchen and peers in to see Sarah angrily signing to the cook. Looking on in amusement, he interprets her dialogue out loud to himself: “Take your pots…and your lousy food, and shove them…doesn’t mince words does she?” Sarah emerges from the kitchen and catches him eavesdropping before marching off.

During more intimate scenes, this technique becomes especially jarring; James’s interpreting out loud only in Sarah’s presence would be ridiculous in the film’s reality. After a heated argument at home, he speaks for her once again as they attempt to resolve their differences (Sarah’s ASL lines are in italics, although James is the one speaking):

JAMES: Yeah? What have you just decided? No one’s ever gonna speak for you again? Come on. How are you gonna manage?
SARAH: Everyone’s always told me who I am, and I let them—she wants, she thinks—and most of the time they were wrong. They had no idea what I said, wanted, thought. And now they won’t.
JAMES: Well that’s alright, I’ll buy that. No I won’t, how could I? Because I love you! Love has nothing to do with it? That’s wonderful. Then what the hell have we been doing? Watch your hands? It’s hard to avoid them.

Sarah goes on to explain the important distinction between the sign for “to connect” and “relationship,” which look similar but have completely different connotations when done in a certain way. She longs to be in a relationship where two people can have separate identities, but also be one: “But you think for me, think for Sarah, as though there were no “I.” She will be with me. Quit her job, learn how to play poker, leave Orin’s party, learn how to speak. That’s all you, not me. Until you let me be an “I,” the way you are, you can never come inside my silence and know me.”

James proceeds to simultaneously yell and sign to her:

“Well, that’s all very moving. But how are you going to manage? I don’t think that you think being Deaf is so wonderful...You want to be on your own, you don’t want to be pitied? Then you learn to read my lips…You wanna talk to me? Then you learn my language. Did you understand that?”

James’s insistence that Sarah read lips perpetuates the most powerful public perception about Deaf people, which attributes to them almost magical skills to read lips. In this way, Sarah is an outlier among her peers—every other Deaf character with whom James interacts can understand him perfectly whenever he neglects to use ASL.