At 23, a neurologist told me that I had a ticklish brain. Ticklish, in that the electronic currents running through my brain seemed to be extra-sensitive to external stressors, resulting in occasional seizures. This explanation came after two days in hospital where my brain’s electrical activity was scanned and mapped through an MRI (Magnetic resonance imagine) and an EEG (electroencephalogram). These showed no unusual activity but the three seizures I had between 18 and 23, one of which was witnessed by a flock of concerned nurses, was considered evidence that my brain was ticklish enough to indicate epilepsy. I was sent home with a prescription for medication to manage the condition and new diagnosis that would impact many things in my life, from work, my ability to drive and liability when diving.1
Welcome to AutCasts, a free bi-weeekly newsletter by writer, Aisling Walsh, exploring neurodivergence through cinema’s oddballs, misfits & rebels!
I resisted any association with this diagnosis for many years, even as I remained medicated, continued to have sporadic seizures and was repeatedly confronted with the limitations on my independence and professional discrimination.2 It was not until I was diagnosed with autism, 14 years later, that I began to consider that the neurologist’s characterisation of my brain as ‘ticklish’ might be far more accurate than either he or I had imagined.
There is little research on the connection between epilepsy and autism, beyond the curious fact that an estimated 20% to 30% of neurodivergent people are epileptic, compared to only 1% of the general population.3 As I learned about the sensory and emotional sensitivities, processing and disregulation that are common for neurodivergent people I realised that my brain was extra-ticklish in a myriad of ways. Many of these neurodivergences have, for much of human history, been considered signs of idiocy, abnormality and even monstrosity.
Epilepsy, in particular, has long been considered one of the most monstrous manifestations of the human body-mind. People suffering from epilepsy were presumed to be possessed by devils or demons until well into the 20th century and were routinely subject to institutionalisation, exorcism and other forms of violence.
If autism representation in media leaves a lot to be desired, then epilepsy representation is practically non-existent outside of the horror genre. And here, seizures often become a signifier of profound mental, physical or spiritual disorder and/or demonic possession.
The one exception, I would argue, is the Mel Brooks’ classic, Young Frankenstein. Though it does not address epilepsy per se, it focuses on the workings of an “abnormal brain” which has been reanimated using electricity and the struggle of The Monster to find love and acceptance in a world which is primed to hate and fear him. Young Frankenstein turned 50 last week and, as one of my all-time favourite movies, I have been saving this piece specially for this year’s spooky season!
Young Frankenstein is a 1974 American comedy-horror film directed by Mel Brooks and co-written by Brooks and Gene Wilder. Dr. Frederick Frankenstein (Gene Wilder) is a lecturing physician at an American medical school, where he calls himself “Fronkensteen” to distance his association with his quack grandfather Victor Frankenstein. When Frederick inherits the family estate in Transylvania, he travels to Europe assume possession of the property and becomes interested in his grandfather’s work. With the help Inga (Teri Garr) and Igor (Marty Feldman) he robs a recently deceased corpse and a brain from a lab with the aim of bringing the dead body back to life. His experiment is successful but his creation turns out to be a monster who wreaks havoc on the local townspeople.
Do not use this brain!
Young Frankenstein was a feature of my childhood and teens, watched countless times on a grainy VHS recorded off terrestrial television. It was so popular with my friends that language and gestures from the movie became a part of our everyday vocabulary, from “Taffeta darling” to the elbowed salute between Frederick and Elizabeth (Madeline Kahn) long before the pandemic ever made this essential.
The drama of Young Frankenstein hinges not so much on the successful reanimation of dead tissue but the nature of the brain inside The Monster (Peter Boyle). Igor is sent to the ‘Brain Depository’ to collect a fresh brain to insert inside the monster’s skull. He drops the ‘saintly and genius’ brain and swaps it for a brain labelled ‘Abnormal.’
Frederick proceeds with the operation, unaware of the mistake. When the corpse is brought back to life by channeling electricity through the body, The Monster displays significant difficulties in communication. His verbal expressions are limited to grunts and moans and he exhibits exaggerated and clunky movements which terrify Frederick and his aids, who decide to keep him hidden away.
The Monster escapes the castle with the help of Frau Blücher (Cloris Leachman) and we begin to see, not only signs of intelligence and comprehension, but that his first interactions with ordinary people are of a peaceful nature. He plays see-saw with a little girl, though misjudging his strength he sends her flying back to her own bed. He meets a blind man (a wonderful cameo from Gene Hackman) who offers him food and drink. He seems perfectly at ease in the stranger’s house until his thumb accidentally goes on fire.
After luring him back to the castle, Frederick begins to realise that The Monster is neither as scary nor as dangerous as he seems, despite his “rotten brain.” Frederick knows he must accept his creation, show him love and nurture The Monster’s better nature:
Listen to me, you are not evil. You... are... good.
This is a nice boy. This is a good boy. This is a mother's angel. And I want the world to know once and for all, and without any shame, that we love him.
Love is all we need!
Frederick also comes to realise that The Monster’s communication difficulties and sensory sensitivities can be accommodated. He sets out to share his discovery, this “greatest single contribution to science since the invention of fire”, with the world through the unconventional format of a cabaret tour. (Now, that’s one to save for the dissemination part of your next research grant application!)
All is well until a stage light goes on fire sparking a meltdown from The Monster. The Monster is arrested and imprisoned but manages to escape and captures Frederick’s fiancé Elizabeth. After some mild resistance to her captor, Elizabeth gives in to The Monster’s “charms” and their erotic encounter ends in physical bliss.4 Elizabeth is totally smitten.
With this latest escape, the villagers form a mob and chase The Monster down to the castle, with pitchforks and torches, determined to destroy him. Instead of giving The Monster up to the villagers baiting for blood, Frederick decides to exchange neurological functions with The Monster in order to save his creation from destruction. This not a sacrifice, but Frederick’s first act of love towards his creation that is not motivated by self-interest or scientific ego. They both come out as winners, perhaps even more balanced individuals, and go on to live happily ever after with their beloveds.
The Monster gains the ability to communicate with words, while Frederick, as we see in the final scene, gains other, ehem, attributes. Now that he can address the townspeople in a language they understand The Monster is allowed a rare moment to share his experience of the world before he could talk, when everyone believed him to be a monstrosity:
For as long as I can remember people have hated me. They looked at my face and my body and they ran away in horror. In my loneliness I decided that if I could not inspire love, which is my deepest hope, I would instead cause fear. I live because this poor half-crazed genius, has given me life. He alone held an image of me as something beautiful and then, when it would have been easy enough to stay out of danger, he used his own body as a guinea pig to give me a calmer brain and a somewhat more sophisticated way of expressing myself.
Rather than the rotten, monstrous creature everyone believed him to be, we see that The Monster was always a sensitive soul. He just lacked the means of communicating his needs and sensitivities in ways that the people around him were willing and able to understand. In a world that places a premium on speech and limited forms of non-verbal expression that come within acceptable parameters, The Monster’s monologue is a revelation. All those who judged him are left feeling shame for reacting with fear and rage to his difference.
The Monster’s journey is resonant of the kinds of social exclusion, violence and institutionalisation neurodivergent people can face in a world where neurological difference and disability continues to provoke misunderstanding, distrust, stigma and fear. Brooks’ spoofy take on the Mary Shelley classic is a rare example of how comedy is often the best medicine for those of whose brains have been pathologized or stigmatised by both the real and the pseudo-sciences.
Rather than using The Monster as the butt of all jokes Brooks, as always, punches up. Like other classics such as Blazing Saddles, Brooks pokes fun at the small mindedness of rural villagers and the voyeuristic cruelty of circus acts built around so-called “freaks” and “weirdos.” In marrying the comedic with the absurd, Brooks allows us to question supposed infallibility of the scientific method and socially accepted notions of intelligence, while creating compassion and acceptance for The Monster and his unusual neurology.
Young Frankenstein stands out in its own sub-genre as a film which manages to create a space for The Monster, rather than destroying him. It is also one of the few movies that addresses divergent neurology through comedy, rather than a poignant ‘overcoming’ story or drama where neurodivergent people provide life-lessons to neurotypical people. Young Frankenstein shows us that the best “cure” for those of us with unusual neurology, be they Abby-Normal, rotten or ticklish brains, is a heavy dose of love, kindness and acceptance of difference from the world around us.
Things I’ve been reading this week!
It’s been so good to see so many neurodivergent writers populating this space and writing about all aspects of the neurodivergent experience. Some of my favourite piece from the last few weeks include:
I’ve been thinking a lot about rest, burn-out and how to ask for support when I need it and Charlie Rewilding’s post about how support needs don’t disappear with age on her REWILD newsletter struck all the right notes.
Hanna Keiner (she/her)’s post on 16 Things I Want My Fellow ADHD People To Know, from her newsletter Purposeful Connection dropped into my inbox at one of the lowest points of the last few days. I was feeling terrible about all the tasks I wasn’t managing to get through and it was exactly what I needed to read!
Speaking of love, Laurie Green of Eustasian Resonances is organising an online Gathering of Neuroqueering Love featuring writers and artists from across genres tomorrow, November 1st!
Mindbodies Decolonised by AJ Singh is another must-read newsletter for me and I loved today’s reflection on Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights, which just so happens to coincide with Samhain, and Aj’s reflections on language and naming!
Thank you for reading AutCasts!
If you liked what you read, please tap the heart 💕 below and consider subscribing (for free) or sharing this essay. As an independent writer it’s the best way to support my work!
Ghouls and gals, spirits and sprites, thank you for coming with me on this monstrous journey and I hope you are all enjoying a deliciously spooky Halloween! Oíche Shamhna shona daoibh!
Tune in next time for a cosy night around the fireside with Little Women. In the mean time I just have one final question: what’s your favourite scary movie?
Actually I’ve never gone diving, precisely because most companies won’t even consider taking you if you have a history of seizures. I have, however, enjoyed snorkelling many times.
My experience working with the UN, as a recently graduated and very naive junior staffer, was a harsh lesson in disclosure and the lingering stigma attached to neurological difference. I probably had the grounds for a harassment complaint.
I suspect I may have non-epileptic dissociative seizures, rather than epileptic seizures, but have neither the time or resources to pursue an accurate diagnosis in a medical system where dissociative seizures are not even considered a medical condition. I found some basic information from on non-epileptic dissociative seizures the UK’s Epilepsy society. There is, unsurprisingly, minimal research on the connection between autism and epilepsy but you can read some basic info here. I also discuss more about my experience and the potential relationships between Autism and epilepsy on this episode of the SquarePeg Podcast (apologies for the terrible audio and nervous laughter on my end!).
This is, perhaps, the sequence of the movie which ages least well and never fails to make me uncomfortable, but for the standards of the time it is rather mild so we’ll let Mel Brooks off the hook this time.
Thank you for the shout out, Aisling!
You've convinced me - it's time to re-watch Young Frankenstein!