When The Good Doctor premiered, it quickly became a television phenomenon. As a medical drama centered around Dr. Shaun Murphy, a young surgeon with autism, the show garnered significant attention, becoming the highest-rated new show of the 2017-2018 season. For seven seasons, viewers tuned in to witness Dr. Murphy’s journey, but as The Good Doctor season concluded, it’s crucial to reflect on its portrayal of autism and its impact on the autistic community.
From the outset, as an autistic culture writer, I approached The Good Doctor with a mix of hope and apprehension. While primetime dramas have the potential to reach vast audiences and foster understanding, they also carry the risk of perpetuating stereotypes. My initial assessment of The Good Doctor season and the series overall was that it was a competently made drama, yet ultimately fell short in its depiction of an autistic individual. Dr. Shaun Murphy, portrayed by Freddie Highmore, often felt like a character built upon non-autistic perceptions rather than a genuine representation of the autistic experience. This feeling was compounded by the fact that there were no openly autistic individuals in the writer’s room or among the main cast.
This disconnect became increasingly apparent as the series progressed. While many viewers praised The Good Doctor for raising autism awareness and fostering empathy, this supposed empathy often felt misdirected. It was disheartening to witness audiences readily embrace fictional autistic characters like Dr. Murphy or Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory, while real-life autistic individuals and their stories often received less attention and enthusiasm.
KAYLA CROMER, CHUKU MODU, FREDDIE HIGHMORE, CHRISTINA CHANG
The success of The Good Doctor season and the series as a whole highlights a concerning trend: the tendency to treat autistic characters as vehicles for non-autistic narratives, rather than complex individuals in their own right. The creative control rested primarily with non-autistic showrunners, writers, and even consultants, leaving the autistic perspective marginalized. This resulted in a portrayal of autism that often leaned into caricature, offering entertainment and a superficial sense of education for non-autistic viewers, who then sometimes felt empowered to lecture autistic individuals on their own experiences.
Even moments of supposed progress, such as the backlash against a particularly stereotypical meltdown scene, were largely driven by non-autistic voices. While some thoughtful critiques emerged, notably an article in the Washington Post featuring autistic experts, the overall discourse often missed the mark, blurring the lines between genuine critique and simply mocking autistic traits. Non-autistic individuals were quick to assure that their laughter was “with” autistic people, not “at” them, further highlighting the power imbalance in the conversation.
Throughout its initial six seasons, The Good Doctor struggled to move beyond stereotypical depictions. Dr. Murphy often came across as a collection of autistic tropes, lacking the depth and nuance of a fully realized character. His behaviors and reactions often deviated from authentic autistic experiences. A particularly jarring example was the episode where Shaun displayed transphobic ignorance towards a patient, a reaction that the show bizarrely attributed to his autism. This was especially problematic given the higher prevalence of autism within the transgender and nonbinary communities. An autistic individual in Dr. Murphy’s position would likely possess a greater understanding and awareness of trans issues.
However, The Good Doctor season 7 offered a glimmer of hope with the introduction of Kayla Cromer, an autistic actor, as Charlie Lukaitis, an autistic medical student inspired by Shaun. This casting decision was a positive step towards genuine inclusion and offered the potential to broaden the show’s exploration of autism. Having two autistic characters could have allowed for a deeper dive into the diversity of the autistic spectrum.
While the interactions between Shaun and Charlie did offer glimpses into the complexities of autistic relationships – showcasing both conflict and understanding – these moments were often overshadowed by persistent reliance on familiar tropes. For every scene that hinted at authentic autistic experiences, there were others that reinforced non-autistic biases and misconceptions.
One particularly baffling scene involved Charlie drawing a comparison between support for autistic children and gastric sleeve surgery, a comparison that lacked both logic and sensitivity. Similarly, a subplot concerning Shaun’s anxieties about his infant son potentially being autistic seemed to cater more to non-autistic parental fears than the nuanced emotions of autistic parents themselves. These instances represented missed opportunities to delve into the often-unseen perspectives of autistic individuals, particularly autistic parents. Shaun’s reaction to a mentor’s terminal illness in the finale also felt somewhat superficial. While his focus on work was understandable, the show missed a chance to explore the complexities of autistic grief, a deeply misunderstood aspect of autistic experience that could have been both educational and dramatically resonant.
By the time The Good Doctor series finale, aptly titled “Goodbye,” concluded with Dr. Murphy delivering a TED Talk about living and working with autism – met with an audience beaming with what felt like patronizing admiration – it was clear that the show’s legacy was complicated. While The Good Doctor season and the series as a whole achieved mainstream success, its portrayal of autism remained a point of contention for many within the autistic community. Its conclusion, coinciding with the end of Young Sheldon, marks a turning point – hopefully signaling the end of an era where popular TV shows treated autistic characters as simplistic objects for non-autistic consumption.
WILL YUN LEE, WAVYY JONEZ, FIONA GUBELMANN, CHRISTINA CHANG, ELFINA LUK, CHUKU MODU, BRIA SAMONÉ HENDERSON, ANTONIA THOMAS, PAIGE SPARA
Looking ahead, there is cautious optimism for the future of autistic representation in media. While no major autistic-centric network shows are immediately on the horizon in the U.S., streaming platforms are offering more promising alternatives. Shows like Heartbreak High, featuring autistic actor Chloé Hayden, A Kind of Spark, created by autistic author Elle McNicoll, and Dinosaur, co-created by and starring autistic comedian Ashley Storrie, offer more authentic and nuanced portrayals of autistic lives. These shows, while significant, are just the beginning.
Given that autistic individuals represent a substantial portion of the population, there is a vast, untapped audience eager for genuine representation. Moreover, the autistic community itself is a rich source of talent and diverse stories waiting to be told. Autistic individuals come from all walks of life, with varied interests and perspectives. This diversity presents a wealth of creative possibilities for future television and film projects.
The Good Doctor season may have ended, but the conversation around autism representation is far from over. For seven seasons, the show encouraged millions to consider the idea of an autistic doctor. Perhaps now, that openness can extend to embracing autistic writers, actors, consultants, and viewers, and allowing us to finally see ourselves authentically reflected on screen.
