Monday, January 1, 2024

Neurodivergent (Headcanon) Alley: Matilda Wormwood (Matilda)

*Spoilers.*

We stan a neurodivergent-coded icon in kids’ media. Due to her genius, Matilda hits more stereotypical traits than a character like Ariel, who a lot of people might not read as autistic, but that doesn’t change the fact that her representation is pretty lovely. And come on, what autistic kid wouldn’t want to be able to get even with bullies using the power of their mind? The musical is my go-to for Matilda and I’ll draw on a few examples specifically from that, but much of this applies to the book and the 1996 film as well.

To begin, yes, Matilda is brilliant. She’s a prodigy, and she teaches herself to read before she ever gets to school. When Miss Honey asks her what books she’s read that week, she rattles off a list of classics so long that it makes the astounded teacher’s head spin. She has a well-developed vocabulary and often speaks in a precise way, and she can do math in her head that Miss Honey needs a calculator to do. In some ways, Matilda would fall in line with “savant” archetypes.

To me, though, Matilda’s characterization is imbued with a lot more life and honesty than many similar portrayals. Even though she’s incredible at math, she’s nonchalant about her skill, preferring reading—“It’s like taking a holiday in your head,” she explains to Miss Honey. And she doesn’t lord her intelligence over her classmates, shrugging it off when they wonder how she fits such an enormous brain in a comparatively small head.

Matilda generally gets along with most people, even if social skills aren’t her forte. Her occasional awkwardness can actually be her benefit at times, since she doesn’t always recognize when she’s “supposed” to hang back. She’s often polite and friendly, and she avoids getting on Hortense’s bad side by simply ignoring the threatening vibe the girl puts off, disarming her. However, she’s certainly helped along by the people who know she’s weird and aren’t put off by it, like her friends at school or the librarian, Mrs. Phelps. They let Matilda be fully herself and still accept her.

While Matilda’s intellect might be pointed to as the strongest evidence of her autistic coding, I see it in other ways as well. Her sense of justice is finely tuned, on behalf of both herself and others. In the musical, “Naughty” is all about how misbehavior can be right and necessary to combat unfair treatment. Looking at stories with “gory” endings like Romeo and Juliet, she muses, “I wonder why they didn't just change their story. / We're told we have to do what we're told, but surely / Sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty.” This is punctuated by her adding peroxide to her dad’s hair tonic when he’s cruel to her. To Matilda, putting things right is more important than following arbitrary rules.

Naturally, when she realizes how awful Miss Trunchbull is, Matilda’s justice sensitivity extends to trying to help and protect others against the vile headmistress. She uses her knowledge and quick thinking skill to save a friend from being thrown into Chokey, and although Miss Trunchbull cows everyone around her, Matilda isn’t afraid to speak up and challenge her.

Matilda is particularly incensed after the incident with Bruce and the cake, where Miss Trunchbull says she won’t punish him for nicking a piece if he finishes the whole cake in one setting. Bruce does, an unthinkable task, and Miss Trunchbull decides to throw him in Chokey anyway. “You can’t just change the rules!” Matilda cries, furious that Miss Trunchbull is changing the terms that she set. “That’s not right! It’s cheating!” As someone who is always authentically herself, I get why this would make Matilda so angry, especially when the end result hurts one of her friends.

Ultimately, of course, Matilda discovers her telepathic powers and devises a careful plan to get back at Miss Trunchbull, avenging her classmates, Miss Honey, and herself. But I particularly love the scene in the musical where she learns this, in the song “Quiet.” She’s just stood up to Miss Trunchbull and is now being shouted down by her, and inside Matilda, everything she’s experienced is all piling up. She sings:

“When everyone shouts—they seem to like shouting-- / The noise in my head is incredibly loud, / And I just wish they’d stop, my dad and my mum, / And the telly and stories would stop for just once.

I’m sorry—I’m not quite explaining it right, / But this noise becomes anger, and the anger is light, / And its burning inside me would usually fade, / But it isn't today, and the heat and the shouting, / And my heart is pounding, and my eyes are burning, / And suddenly everything, everything is...

Quiet…”

I love this. It resonates so strongly with feelings of meltdown or shutdown, with sensory overload washing over Matilda along with all the frustrations and humiliations that have been building to this moment. But right as it overwhelms her, she finds a quiet refuge in her head, and there, in “the eye of the storm,” she’s able to use her powers.

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