"My life lets me hover between thoughts, yet I cannot speak," declares Fiacre Ryan at the start of Speechless (RTÉ One, 10.15pm). The 21-year-old writer and poet from Castlebar doesn't say these words aloud because, as a person with non-verbal autism, he cannot speak by conventional means. Instead he writes them using a groundbreaking form of communication called "rapid prompting method", which involves spelling words by pointing at letters on a sheet or screen.
But what this heartfelt and humane documentary conveys powerfully is that expressions of love and of resolve do not have to be spoken out loud. With RPM, Ryan has acquired the tools through which he can share his thoughts with the world. And what has come gushing forth is a fountain of hope and determination, expressed with a ferocious lyricism.
“The story of my life is a search for understanding and acceptance. Believe in minds that work differently,” explains Ryan. “We are better talkers and thinkers than people realise…be kind and respect our difference.”
Speechless allows Ryan communicate directly with the viewer by displaying his words on screen. They twinkle with a lyrical lustre and it comes as no surprise to discover publishers have approached him with a view to putting them into print. There are also interviews with his family, who speak about the joys and frustrations of living with autism.
There is tension, too, as, in 2019, Fiacre becomes the first non-verbal autistic person in Ireland to sit the Leaving Cert. We join his parents, Carmel and Pat, and sisters Rebekah and Alison as they wait to discover his grades one bright morning in Mayo.
“He’s nervous,” says Rebekah as they count down to the results. And when they do finally come through and it is revealed he has aced his exam,it’s impossible not to be moved.
Later, there is a wrenching moment where Alison wonders how different life might have been had Fiacre been born without autism. Might he have played football with the local team? Would he have been just like one of her friends’s brothers? “I know I shouldn’t say anything like that out loud,” she says, blinking away tears. “Most of the time that’s not what you think at all. It’s everyday life. If he didn’t have autism, he wouldn’t be himself.”
Having learned to communicate via RPM, Fiacre has, as pointed out, demonstrated a remarkable gift for language. His thoughts are eloquent and provocative. And he expresses the desire to one day have a job and his own house. And, above all, to “have people recognise me, human, calm and fulfilled”.
There is an indication how this might come about as the managing editor of Merrion Press suggests to the Ryan family that Fiacre consider writing a book. A face-to-face meeting follows, though Fiacre says he’d rather not work to deadline as he finds it difficult to deal with undue stress.
In an afterword we learn he’s still writing, still working towards publication. You hope he continues to chase his dream. Because if this hugely moving documentary, filmed over eight years, tells us anything it is that, having acquired a voice, he has a lot more to say.
