Poignant "Autism" has joyful message

The format is as old as show business: Hey, kids, let's put on a show. Watch behind-the-scenes drama and the tedium and hard work of rehearsals as a theatrical production takes shape.

This time, however, let's do it with children who can't stand still or make eye contact.

"Autism: The Musical," a moving and uplifting documentary that's as surprising as its title, chronicles the making of that show.

The wonderfully inspiring film premieres Tuesday on HBO, having already won a slew of film-festival awards. Record it. Find it on demand. Rent it or borrow it. The story testifies to the power of the human spirit, to the fact that one individual can make a difference and, most of all, to the idea that the act of creating theater can be a transcendent experience for those performing, as well as for those witnessing, the act.

The powerful yearnings of autistic children as they endeavor to connect — with an audience, with each other and, most important, with themselves, on stage, are captured on film. Best of all, the documentary fully engages the viewer and observes the kids' accomplishments without a saccharine moment.

No narrator stomps on the camera's poignant storytelling as we meet the kids with a range of perplexing, all-consuming disorders.

They slowly forge emotional bonds with each other and with the viewer and reveal uncanny abilities.

The parents of five autistic children in Los Angeles contributed home movies and divulged their feelings upon discovering their children's brain disorders, social difficulties and behavioral challenges. Filmmaker Tricia Reagan is inconspicuous, maintaining a hands-off style as the individual stories unfold en route to putting on a show.

Reagan follows the families for six months as they create, practice and perform a short musical. The theater is therapy; the therapy works to heal the parents as much as the children.

As the story progresses from first meetings to rehearsals and the production, each child's personality and interests are fleshed out. Each highly individual character earns first our sympathy, then our admiration.

Henry has an encyclopedic knowledge of all things dinosaur; Lexi only repeats what is said to her but sings beautifully; Wyatt is obsessed with the idea of bullies and is on the cusp of understanding how his mind works differently.

The joyful tears of onlookers in the theater audience will be matched by those on the couch.

Autism is explained as a catchall term that applies to a wide range of symptoms. The varied personalities and disabilities of the kids emerge, the impact on families and marriages is explored and the array of what counts as "autistic" comes into focus through the drama on- and offstage.

Well into the film, we learn that one of the kids is the son of musician Stephen Stills, but that realization doesn't affect the story one way or the other. Celebrity means nothing here (his rock-star father's shows are too loud for the son to tolerate). The act of connecting with other children diagnosed as autistic is what's worth celebrating.

The adult hero of the story is Elaine Hall, an educator and children's acting coach whose adopted son was diagnosed as autistic. Hall's journey from the realization of her son's disorder to her use of theater as a way to reach him, and her own journey toward a fully rewarding life never distracts from the kids.

The child heroes are more obvious, but their profound pride at fully participating in the world and their compassion for one another sneaks up on you. Their exuberance is contagious.