A few years prior to the finale of The Good Doctor, an acquaintance expressed his desire to discuss the show with me. Knowing I was an autistic culture writer, he was eager to understand my perspective on the ABC medical drama’s depiction of a young surgeon who is on the spectrum. This inquiry wasn’t unique; it echoed many conversations I’d had since the show gained prominence.
My response had become somewhat routine: While acknowledging its competence as a primetime drama, I found The Good Doctor’s portrayal of autism deeply flawed. Lacking openly autistic voices in its writing and casting good doctor roles, the show, particularly through Dr. Shaun Murphy (Freddie Highmore), felt like a collection of stereotypes and misconceptions rather than an authentic exploration of the autistic experience. It was disheartening to witness widespread admiration for characters like Dr. Murphy or Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory, while real-life autistic individuals and our narratives often received significantly less attention or enthusiasm.
He countered, asserting the show’s value in educating him about autism and fostering empathy towards autistic individuals and our challenges. This sentiment, while seemingly positive, encapsulates a core issue with The Good Doctor’s legacy.
As The Good Doctor, once the highest-rated new show of the 2017-2018 season and a consistent top performer, concluded its seven-season run, it highlighted how a show aiming to explore the humanity of its central character often reduced autistic individuals to mere plot devices. The creative team, including writers, showrunners David Shore and Liz Friedman, and lead actor Highmore, had considerable creative license to shape a character vastly different from themselves. This was done without the lived experience of autism or apparent concern for how their portrayal would resonate with the autistic community. Even the show’s autism consultant lacked lived experience of autism. Non-autistic audiences consumed these portrayals for entertainment and purported learning, congratulating themselves on their supposed open-mindedness, sometimes even lecturing autistic people on autism awareness supposedly gained from the show.
The social media backlash following a particularly problematic scene of Shaun experiencing an autistic meltdown further illustrated this disconnect. The outrage, largely driven by non-autistic individuals, overshadowed the voices of autistic experts in medicine, advocacy, and culture, though a notable Washington Post article did feature some of these perspectives. The line blurred between those critiquing the show’s depiction and those simply mocking autistic traits, yet non-autistic voices were quick to assure autistic people that the laughter was with us, not at us.
Over its initial six seasons, The Good Doctor failed in authentically representing autistic people. Shaun Murphy was more a compilation of autistic stereotypes – a “cardboard cutout,” as Lydia Brown described in the Washington Post – than a fully developed character. Dr. Murphy’s behaviors often misrepresented autistic individuals and their interactions with the world. A particularly jarring instance involved Shaun displaying ignorance and transphobia towards a patient, attributes seemingly attributed to his autism by the show. Given the disproportionately high rate of autism among transgender and nonbinary individuals, such a reaction was illogical and perpetuated harmful stereotypes.
KAYLA CROMER, CHUKU MODU, FREDDIE HIGHMORE, CHRISTINA CHANG
The cast of The Good Doctor, including Freddie Highmore, Chuku Modu, Kayla Cromer, and Christina Chang, in a promotional image.
The final season offered a glimmer of hope by casting good doctor Kayla Cromer, an autistic actor, as Charlie Lukaitis, an autistic medical student inspired by Shaun. This decision was a positive step towards genuine inclusion and offered an opportunity to broaden the show’s exploration of autism. Introducing a second regular autistic character theoretically allowed for a deeper dive into the diversity within the autistic spectrum. However, this potential largely remained untapped.
While Shaun and Charlie initially clashed, moments emerged where Charlie’s autistic perspective allowed her to understand and support Shaun. This dynamic hinted at the complex relationships within the autistic community, showcasing both conflict and connection. Yet, these nuanced moments were often overshadowed by scenes rooted in non-autistic misconceptions.
The purpose behind a scene where Charlie favorably compared support for autistic children to gastric sleeve surgery remains unclear and concerning. Similarly, a subplot about Shaun’s anxiety regarding autism testing for his infant son, featured in an episode titled “The Overview Effect,” resonated more with common fears among non-autistic parents than the complex emotions experienced by autistic parents. The rarity of autistic parents depicted on screen made this superficial portrayal particularly disappointing. Shaun’s reaction to his mentor’s terminal cancer diagnosis in the finale was equally underwhelming. While his attempt to channel grief into work was realistic, the show missed an opportunity to delve into the often misunderstood experience of autistic grief.
The series finale, “Goodbye,” culminated in a TED Talk by Shaun, where he discussed living and working as a doctor with autism. The audience’s adoring reaction mirrored the patronizing praise often directed at autistic individuals for mundane accomplishments. Ultimately, the most positive aspect of The Good Doctor‘s conclusion was simply that it had ended. Its finale, coinciding with Young Sheldon’s conclusion – which drew nearly 9 million viewers – marks a turning point. This era, where successful TV shows treated autistic-coded characters as objects for non-autistic consumption, is hopefully drawing to a close.
WILL YUN LEE, WAVYY JONEZ, FIONA GUBELMANN, CHRISTINA CHANG, ELFINA LUK, CHUKU MODU, BRIA SAMONÉ HENDERSON, ANTONIA THOMAS, PAIGE SPARA
Enthusiastic audience reacting to Dr. Shaun Murphy’s TED Talk in The Good Doctor finale, highlighting the show’s impact and reception.
Looking forward, there is cautious optimism for improved autism representation. While no major autistic-centric network shows are immediately on the horizon in the U.S., streaming platforms offer promising alternatives. Chloé Hayden’s portrayal of an autistic student in the Australian series Heartbreak High on Netflix has been lauded as one of the best autistic characters to date by autistic writers. A Kind of Spark, a family drama based on Elle McNicoll’s book, provides insight into autistic lives and the perspective of an autistic creator. Dinosaur, a Scottish dramedy starring autistic co-creator Ashley Storrie, available on Hulu, offers both heart and humor, demonstrating autistic self-awareness and comedic talent. These shows, however commendable, are just the beginning.
Given the current prevalence of 1 in 36, autistic individuals constitute a substantial, largely untapped audience and a significant talent pool. Autistic people are diverse across race, gender, sexuality, and class, with varied interests and perspectives. This diversity offers a wealth of stories waiting to be told.
For seven seasons, The Good Doctor encouraged millions to consider the possibility of an autistic doctor. Perhaps audiences can now extend that openness to embrace autistic writers, actors, consultants, and viewers, allowing us to see authentic reflections of ourselves on television, moving beyond stereotypical casting good doctor narratives.
