Written and directed by James J. Christy, Love and Communication explores the challenges a couple faces when their child is diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. As they struggle to navigate conflicting therapies and an inflexible school system, the film offers a grounded look at what it truly means to fight for your child’s future.
After Megan (Briana Evigan) and Rob (Ryan Kennedy) receive the news that their young son Sammy is on the autism spectrum, they are left reeling from the lack of support and hope from the school district. She struggles to connect with her son, who is often distracted by seemingly minor things, like a cookie. Rob, desperate for solutions, pushes for enrollment at Turning Point, a private autism-focused school led by Julia (Ellen Adair). At the same time, Megan explores an alternative approach known as Love and Communication (LAC), which emphasizes emotional bonding over behavioral correction.
The couple becomes increasingly divided over the best course of action for Sammy. Megan is drawn to the LAC philosophy and sees its potential to foster genuine connection. At the same time, Rob is skeptical about its touchy-feely methods and insists that the tried-and-true behavioral models are more effective. Meanwhile, getting Sammy into one of these schools proves fruitless. They decide to sue the school district to get Sammy placed. The fight exposes the bureaucratic hurdles, making the couple feel like their parenting skills are being judged.
As the court battle unfolds, Megan continues with the LAC method, reaching out to Dr. Silverman (Lev Gorn), who agrees to support her case. Through meditation, visualization, and emotional grounding, she begins to genuinely envision ways to engage with Sammy. LAC encourages parents to reconsider not only what kind of education Sammy needs but also how they themselves need to change the way they relate to and connect with him. By envisioning her son’s future—his growth, even his wedding—Megan begins to understand that the path forward may lie in redefining what love, learning, and communication truly mean for their family.
In the couple’s desperation to find solutions for their child, both begin to compromise their own moral code. But do the ends justify the means?
“By envisioning her son’s future—his growth, even his wedding—Megan begins to understand…”
Love and Communication is not the first film I’ve reviewed on Film Threat about autism. My first reaction to reading the synopsis of the film was “yep, another one.” To my delight, Love and Communication is not the film I thought it would be. If anything, it highlights just how different every case of autism is.
This is a story about two parents who would do anything to give their autistic child the best education they can. Focus on the phrase “would do anything”—because for both Megan and Rob, that includes morally questionable steps. Again, Love and Communication is not your typical autism movie.
I’m certainly no expert when it comes to autism. I’ve seen many controversial methods that claim to be the next breakthrough, such as guided communication. Here, the methods are both scrutinized and explored with a level of criticism and skepticism that applies to all methods examined and evaluated.
At its core, the story centers on Megan and Rob being on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to what kind of education and care Sammy will get. This is where Love and Communication’s unique storytelling earns my recommendation. Briana Evigan and Ryan Kennedy, as Sammy’s parents, get right to the film’s central conflict and take us on a ride that any married couple with diametrically opposed opinions would embark on. This is smart, authentic, and at times soap opera-stakes storytelling that I like seeing in indie films.
Love and Communication is not the film I expected—it’s better. It doesn’t attempt to simplify or solve autism but instead focuses on how far two parents will go, even crossing ethical lines, to give their son the best chance. Thanks to smart writing and compelling performances, the film offers a sincere, sometimes uncomfortable, and always honest portrait of what it takes to advocate for your child in a world full of uncertainty.
"…not your typical autism movie..."
