"My Left Foot" (1989)

(Brenda Fricker and Daniel Day-Lewis)

     (The real Christy Brown with his mother)

“…Like everyone else, I am acutely conscious sometimes of my own isolation, even in the midst of people.  And I often give up hope of ever being able to really communicate with them…It’s like a black cloud sweeping down on me unexpectedly, cutting me off from others.”  Christy Brown, from his autobiography

Christy Brown was a well-known Irish writer and artist.  He excelled as a painter, a novelist and a poet.  His best-known work remains his autobiography, “My Left Foot”, which was published in 1954 when he was 22.  His work is highly regarded in literary and artistic circles:  his novel, ”Down All the Days” has been compared to the writing of James Joyce.  Despite his cerebral palsy, which limited his ability to speak and move, Brown was prolific, creating his art on a typewriter  or with a pencil or paintbrush, by using the toes of his left foot, the only appendage which he could control. 

Christy was born in Dublin in 1932 to a working-class Catholic family.  He was one of 22 children, 13 of whom survived (nine died in infancy). His disability was so severe that most of his family gave up on him.  His mother, however, never wavered in her support nor doubted his ability.  As he grew up, he demonstrated keen intelligence and artistic talent. 

The film version of “My Left Foot” is a complete, exuberant movie experience. It has an old-fashioned sensibility with a contemporary spirit.  It was made with great care and respect for its subject, and lots of creative energy; this movie is ALIVE.  I can’t recommend it more highly. “My Left Foot” blends the comfort and warmth of a domestic narrative with the intensity of serious drama.   

The central character, Christy Brown, has enormous challenges, but we identify with him as a human being, not a specimen. Brown’s disability is matter-of-fact, and not artificially dramatized like a disease-of-the-week.  The film is often funny, and occasionally very witty. It surprises us at times,  and contains a couple of scenes that are sure to produce a few tears; and you’ll likely be smiling when it’s over.

The movie is structured as a series of flashbacks.  The adult Christie Brown is waiting backstage during a benefit to honor him and his work.  His clever caretaker, Mary, engages in sly repartee with Christie, and as she reads his book, Brown’s story unfolds according to each chapter.

The film proceeds swiftly through Brown’s childhood in his crowded household, enduring the noise and bustle of his many brothers, and the raging of his strict, strong-willed father. His mother, a sensible and devoted woman who is  strong enough to understand her difficult husband and still love him, sticks up for Christie, and speaks to him like a human being.  

We move ahead to Brown’s adolescence, his formal education, the humiliations of being treated as a helpless, repellant child in a man’s body, and his first, powerful crush on his social worker and teacher.

Shane Connaughton’s intricate screenplay tells the story in a straightforward way, using references to Christie’s autobiography to shape the sequences and the chronology of the flashbacks. Director Jim Sheridan wisely lets Christie Brown occupy center stage, staying out of the way, and skillfully places and moves his camera and his many actors, filming within confined sets that are authentic and feel lived in.

Christie Brown is portrayed by Daniel Day-Lewis, who was relatively new to American audiences at that time.  I can say with confidence that his is one of the greatest feats of screen acting ever put on film.  

Day-Lewis accomplished this by paying attention to the most minute detail, understanding how every part of Christie’s body functioned, and staying in character throughout the shoot.  He spent time with Christie Brown’s  family, and with other adults with cerebral palsy, for guidance to ensure that his acting was accurate and honest.

Unlike so many other films in which able-bodied actors play characters with physical limitations, Day-Lewis’ performance is not a gimmick.  A good test of this is to ask whether we are always aware of an actor acting, and being more impressed by the performance than involved with the character.  Right from the start, in a distorted closeup on Christy's labored expression, we are transfixed by the character, not just the actor.  

It is true that Day-Lewis inspires awe as we watch the film; but very soon we forget that we are watching an actor.  The pleasing irony is that Day-Lewis is SO convincing, that we are able to pay attention to Christy Brown; his performance is the nicest tribute an actor could have paid to his real-life subject.

Notice how Day-Lewis uses his eyes (especially in the amusing way he gives Mary the once-over in an early scene).  See how well he constricts his body and tries so hard to control what is impossible to hold still.  Watch how he shapes his mouth into the words he wants to use, and hear how he forces his breath to make the sounds come out of his throat.  Notice how he contorts his face into expressions of raw emotion, and moves his head for emphasis.

Apart from the imitation of a disabled man, Day-Lewis gives a performance, one of graceful humor and intense drama.  He highlights Christy's playful, profane, and passionate qualities.

When Daniel Day-Lewis accepted his Oscar for this movie, he rightly and graciously called out another actor, Hugh O’Connor, who played Christy Brown as a child, and whose performance in the film’s first thirty minutes is just as stunning.  O’Connor matched Day-Lewis’ body postures, facial expressions, and head movements perfectly; I can imagine the two actors bonding, as the younger actor observed the older actor and worked hard to honor the character.   

The most important role in the movie apart from Christy is that of Christy’s mother, played here by Brenda Fricker.  Even more unknown outside of Ireland, (until she was later cast as the pigeon lady in “Home Alone 2”), Fricker is the film’s conscience.  She gives us a way to identify with her son, and read his heart.  Fricker’s performance is very natural, and also one of the more physically demanding roles I have seen by an actress.  

The role is written as almost saintly, but Fricker brings an earthiness to it, an aura of having experienced life and a confidence that all will be well.  Without raising her voice, we know that Fricker’s character is not to be trifled with.  Fricker, deservedly, won the film’s second Oscar.

Were it not for its Oscar wins, I fear “My Left Foot” might tragically be forgotten by contemporary viewers.  If you’ve never seen it, do yourself a favor, and check it out.   If you have seen the film, this is a good time to revisit it.   

There is nothing about it directly related to our pandemic.  Yet in connecting with a real-life character, whose life presented few options and was so constricted, we may find encouragement in our ability to prevail during a time in which many of our lives have become depressingly limited. 

Not only that, but we take away the straightforward, refreshing pleasure of an honest, well-made work of cinema, in a film that honors our emotions and our intelligence.