The fourth season of the American version of “Love on the Spectrum” premiered on April 1, receiving attention and praise from neurotypical audiences. Clips of cast members interacting and planning dates spread across social media like wildfire, with viewers enchanted at the prospect of autistic people finding love.
The acclaim was not limited to casual audiences: This year alone, the show won three Primetime Emmy Awards. Individuals featured on the show, including Tanner Smith, Abbey Romeo and Connor Tomlinson, have become celebrities in their own right, charming viewers through their social media platforms and other entertainment ventures.
Over the past four years, critics have applauded the show for diverging from typical reality shows, with a New York Times article saying it delivers what people expect from reality TV “without skewing saccharine or pandering.” Jill Escher, the president of the National Council on Severe Autism, wrote that although the show may feel goofy, neurotypical viewers will become “more curious, patient and caring about autism…” As the show has progressed, viewers have noted its increasingly complex relationship dynamics, including numerous breakups.
I will admit, “Love on the Spectrum” is a better representation of autistic people than is typical in popular culture. Rather than having a non-autistic actor play an autistic character, as has been common practice from “Rain Man” to “Music,” the show casts actually autistic people and captures their largely unscripted interactions.
However, as an autistic viewer, the show’s structure does little to actively resist infantilizing attitudes toward autistic and otherwise developmentally disabled people. Instead of truly viewing autistic people’s relationships as an element of the human experience, the show’s characterization of such relationships frames them as miraculous, practically unwaveringly wholesome moments that must be protected.
First, the show’s production style implies that the on-screen conversations are rare encounters to be gushed over and studied, distinguishing autistic dates from neurotypical ones. Notably, the background music is similar to that used in children’s media. With playful rhythms and plucky instrumentals, the show’s soundtrack supports the perception that the on-screen dates and conversations are childish.
The editing also goes out of its way to make the cast members seem as awkward as possible. Long pauses when they can’t think of a word and especially atypical comments are commonplace, making a caricature of how autistic people act in social situations. When a conversation reaches a somewhat awkward moment, the camera angles and background music intensify the discomfort, strengthening beliefs that autistic people are indeed socially awkward to be around, as shown in Dylan’s date with Melissa in Season 4, Episode 6. The narration also feels unnecessary, describing actions we already know in an upbeat voice as they happen, similar to how nature documentaries depict a zebra walking to a watering hole.
Furthermore, the common decision to focus on the youthful elements of cast members’ personalities, such as a shot displaying Logan’s Thomas the Tank Engine pillow in Season 4, Episode 1, reinforces neurotypical people’s belief that autism is a childlike disability. It is likely that many of the cast members genuinely enjoy these things, but the disproportionate presence of such characteristics supports an inherent divide between autistic and neurotypical populations. According to the show, all autistic people have nerdy interests, cartoon-like vocal inflections and an awkward demeanor.
Although I recognize that over-the-top narration, jarring music and typecasting are commonplace in reality TV, my issues with “Love on the Spectrum” lie in how these trends are used to align the autistic cast members with neurotypical people’s preexisting perceptions of autism. Instead of showing autistic people’s empathetic and human sides, the show focuses more on crafting stories that neurotypical people can easily recognize as “autistic.”
Obviously, the autistic cast members are not to blame. They are genuinely trying to show who they are, both to potential partners and viewers. However, the production team seems to be dead set on showing the ‘most autistic’ elements of the cast members’ personalities, doing little to show the complexities that autistic people bring to the table. The show’s choice to remove the diversity from autism, a spectrum-wide disability, limits its ability to advance its supposed mission of showing what autistic people are actually like.
Adding to my frustrations with the production, cast members are not paid for being on the show. Although cast members knew about this stipulation before filming, this does not negate the exploitative nature of filming autistic people for neurotypical people’s entertainment without properly compensating them for their work. Netflix declined to respond to the Guardian’s questions about nonpayment. However, Northern Pictures, the production company behind the Australian version, replied, “‘Love on the Spectrum’ is built on consent, collaboration and respect.”
If the show is truly about collaboration and respect, the least Netflix can do is pay the people who make the show what it is. An argument can be made that paying cast members could increase their family’s exploitation, especially since many of them have already pushed their children into other ventures, notably Abbey’s uncomfortable appearance on Logan Paul’s podcast “Impaulsive” and Connor and his mom’s memoir set to be published in March. However, autistic people have been systematically excluded from society, never mind the entertainment sphere, for centuries and changing policies to provide a sufficient share of the show’s profits to cast members can do wonders to improve autistic people’s leverage in the entertainment industry.
Even with my concerns about how “Love on the Spectrum” is produced and represents autism, I would be at ease if neurotypical people reacted to the show with genuine understanding and care.
However, much of the discourse I have seen about the show pertains to how ‘cute and innocent’ they think the cast members are. Many social media videos compile the show’s goofiest moments, labeling autistic people’s attempts to find love as funny, heartwarming, inspiring or all three at once. Rather than finding relatability in the cast members’ experiences with love, most neurotypical viewers are content to relish in infantilization-rooted joy.
Additionally, the parents’ ability to gain stardom for themselves through the show’s heavy focus on their caretaking duties has led to alarming defenses of ableist political acts. Critically, Tanner, Abbey and Connor’s mothers have defended Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s horrific comments about autistic people “never [being able to] use a toilet unassisted.” For instance, Abbey’s mom reposted a video on TikTok that promoted the idea that RFK Jr. spoke the “real truth for parents of autistic people.”
Thankfully, numerous cast members, including James B. Jones and Dani Bowman, have spoken out against the Trump administration’s disability policy. However, the point still stands that the infantilizing nature of “Love on the Spectrum,” alongside parents’ ability to gain stardom for themselves on the backs of their autistic children, facilitates the perpetuation of harmful and ableist rhetoric against autism.
All in all, the underlying idea of “Love on the Spectrum” can broaden neurotypical perceptions of autistic people. However, with childlike episode structures, excessive pigeonholing of cast members and the proliferation of ableist ideologies, the product we have received has done little but heighten infantilized perspectives of autism. While some of my critiques of the show could be said about many dating shows, the manipulation of these clichés when capturing autistic relationships is antithetical to ideas of disability inclusion and autism acceptance. There should always be a place for autistic love on our TV screens, but the vehicle through which such love is showcased must heighten raw autistic voices, not reinforce predisposed neurotypical ideologies.