A few years ago, I was asked by a friend of a friend for my opinion on The Good Doctor. As an autistic culture writer, I had become accustomed to fielding questions about the ABC medical drama and its depiction of Dr. Shaun Murphy (Freddie Highmore), a young surgeon who is on the spectrum.
My response had become fairly routine: While competently produced as a primetime drama, The Good Doctor fell short as a representation of an autistic individual. The show, lacking openly autistic voices in its writing or cast, presented Dr. Murphy as a collection of stereotypes and misconceptions about autism rather than a genuine exploration of the autistic experience. It was disheartening to witness widespread admiration for characters like Dr. Murphy and Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory (often seen as autistic-coded), while real-life autistic individuals and our narratives received considerably less attention and enthusiasm.
This acquaintance then declared that The Good Doctor was, in fact, a valuable show. He argued it had educated him about autism and fostered greater empathy for autistic individuals and their challenges.
As The Good Doctor, which became the highest-rated new show of the 2017-2018 season and consistently remained a top performer throughout its seven seasons, concludes its run, this interaction perfectly exemplifies how a series supposedly dedicated to exploring the complex humanity of its main character often reduced actual autistic people to mere props. The creative team, including writers, showrunners David Shore and Liz Friedman, and actor Freddie Highmore, had complete freedom to develop a character vastly different from themselves, without facing the realities of autistic life or demonstrating significant concern for how their portrayal would be received by the autistic community. Notably, even their autism consultant was not autistic. This allowed non-autistic viewers to consume these caricatured representations for entertainment and supposed education, congratulating themselves on their supposed open-mindedness and, at times, lecturing autistic individuals about their newfound “awareness.”
Even the brief wave of criticism that arose last year after a problematic clip of Shaun experiencing an autistic meltdown went viral was predominantly driven by non-autistic individuals. A notable exception was a thoughtful article in the Washington Post that included insights from autistic experts in medicine, advocacy, and culture. The line between those mocking The Good Doctor‘s portrayal and those simply ridiculing autistic traits became blurred, yet non-autistic individuals were quick to assure me they were “laughing with me, not at me.”
The Problem with ‘The Good Doctor’’s Autism Representation
Over its initial six seasons, The Good Doctor ultimately failed autistic viewers by presenting Shaun not as a fully developed character, but rather as a collection of autistic stereotypes – what activist Lydia Brown described as “a cardboard cutout of what people believe an autistic person should be like” in the aforementioned Washington Post article. Dr. Murphy’s behaviors often misrepresented autistic individuals and our interactions with the world. A particularly jarring example occurred when Shaun displayed ignorance and transphobia toward a patient, which the show seemed to attribute to his autism. This was especially illogical given that trans and nonbinary individuals are up to six times more likely to be autistic. An autistic person in his position would likely possess at least some awareness of trans issues.
Cast of The Good Doctor featuring Kayla Cromer, Chuku Modu, Freddie Highmore, and Christina Chang, highlighting representation.
Glimmers of Hope and Unfulfilled Potential
In its final season, the series offered a glimmer of progress by introducing Kayla Cromer, an autistic actor, as Charlie Lukaitis, an autistic medical student inspired by Shaun. This was a positive step toward genuine inclusion and an opportunity to broaden the show’s exploration of autism. The addition of a second regular autistic character theoretically could have allowed for a deeper dive into the diverse spectrum of autistic experiences. However, this potential largely went unrealized.
Shaun and Charlie frequently clashed in early episodes, yet there were moments where Charlie demonstrated understanding and support for Shaun. This mix of conflict and camaraderie offered a glimpse into the reality that autistic individuals are diverse, capable of both disagreement and unique connection. However, these glimpses of complex humanity were often overshadowed by scenes rooted in non-autistic misconceptions and biases.
For instance, the purpose of a scene where Charlie favorably compared support for autistic children in schools to gastric sleeve surgery for teenagers remains baffling. Similarly, a subplot concerning Shaun’s anxiety about getting his infant son tested for autism in an episode titled “The Overview Effect” resonated more with common fears among non-autistic parents than with the nuanced emotions experienced by autistic parents. Autistic parents often have complex histories with evaluations and interventions and struggle to determine what will truly benefit their children. Given the scarcity of autistic parents represented on screen, the superficial treatment of this topic was deeply disappointing. Shaun’s reaction to his mentor and father figure’s terminal cancer diagnosis in the finale was similarly underwhelming. While his attempt to channel grief into work was realistic, the show missed an opportunity to explore the often misunderstood experience of autistic grief in a way that would be both educational and emotionally resonant.
The Finale and the End of an Era
By the time the finale, “Goodbye,” concluded with a TED Talk by Shaun about living and working as a doctor with autism, while audience members beamed at him with expressions typically reserved for a dog performing a clever trick, the most positive thing to say about The Good Doctor was that it had finally ended. Its conclusion, along with Young Sheldon, The Big Bang Theory‘s spinoff which attracted nearly 9 million viewers for its finale, marks the conclusion of an era where popular television shows treated autistic or autistic-coded characters primarily as objects for non-autistic consumption.
Enthusiastic audience reacting to Dr. Shaun Murphy's TED Talk in The Good Doctor series finale, illustrating the show's conclusion.
A Look to the Future: Better Autism Representation on TV
I hold cautious optimism for the future of autism representation on television. While no major autistic-centric network shows are immediately on the horizon in the U.S., several streaming options offer hope. Heartbreak High, an Australian series on Netflix featuring autistic actor Chloé Hayden portraying a queer autistic student, is considered by many autistic writers to be one of the best portrayals of an autistic character to date. A Kind of Spark, a British/Irish/Canadian/American family drama based on Elle McNicoll’s book, provides insight into autistic lives and the perspective of its autistic creator. Dinosaur, a Scottish dramedy starring autistic co-creator Ashley Storrie, available on Hulu, is both heartwarming and demonstrates that autistic individuals can appreciate humor about themselves when done well. While these shows are commendable, they represent only the beginning of the autistic stories that deserve to be told on screen.
Given that 1 in 36 people are currently diagnosed as autistic, autistic individuals constitute a large, largely untapped audience – and a potentially significant talent pool, given access to appropriate resources and opportunities. Furthermore, the autistic population is far more diverse than mainstream media has depicted. Autistic individuals exist across all races, genders, sexualities, and socioeconomic backgrounds, with varied interests, subcultures, and artistic inclinations. This diversity of perspectives and experiences offers a wealth of potential for compelling and enriching television in the years to come.
For seven seasons, millions of viewers were willing to embrace the idea that an autistic man could be a good doctor. Perhaps some of that openness can now extend to accepting autistic individuals as writers, actors, consultants, and viewers who deserve to see authentic representations of themselves reflected on television.
