To understand Jon Gunn’s The Unbreakable Boy (2025), it’s important to know its history. Filmed during the COVID-19 pandemic, the biographical drama was originally set for release in early 2022. However, the film was delayed several times until finally releasing this past Friday.
No one knows why The Unbreakable Boy was delayed for so long but potentially being released in the wake of Sia’s disastrous Music (2021), the universally lambasted, autism-centered musical drama, likely didn’t do the film any favors in making a fresh impression.
Even being provided a warning sign as disastrous as Music’s should have been a precursor of what The Unbreakable Boy was going to expect for treating its subject with such schmaltz.
While The Unbreakable Boy isn’t quite as inept as Music was in the disservice of its subject, the film fails in too many other ways to count. Based on the titular novel by father Scott LaRette and co-author Susy Flory, its adaptation leaves a lot to be desired between its saccharine tone, disconnected narratives, and religious overtones conveniently left out of all marketing.
The Unbreakable Boy follows Scott (Zachary Levi), an aloof 20-something with an imaginary friend Joe (Drew Powell). Joe manifests as a presence in his life, almost like a shoulder angel who accompanies him wherever he goes.
One day while shopping for clothes, Scott asks the woman behind the counter on a date. Little does he know, however, that his life is about to permanently change.
After their third date, Teresa (Meghann Fahy) reveals to Scott that she’s pregnant and the pair decide to move in together. Soon after, Teresa reveals to Scott that she has Osteogenesis Imperfecta, otherwise known as brittle bone disease–a genetic disorder that causes her fragile bones to break easily. Not only that, but their future child runs the risk of having the same condition.
After having their first son, Austin (Jacob Laval), their life turns upside down as his bones break regularly the first occurring during childbirth unbeknownst to the parents. Austin begins the film by narrating his many breaks during his first 13 years of life, totaling upwards of 30.
As the years pass, Scott and Teresa welcome a healthy second son, Logan (Gavin Warren), as well as discover that Austin is on the autism spectrum, bringing a new set of challenges into their family’s life.
While it’s understandable that adapting a book word-for-word is never the outcome, nor ideal, with some liberties needed to be taken by its screenwriter (also Gunn), The Unbreakable Boy’s greatest problem is the lack of connective tissue when crafting its narrative. Glaring red flags that normally wouldn’t make it past the first draft in your average major studio biopic are on full display.
All of this stems from the relationship between Scott and Teresa and how every conflict in this film could be solved with an ounce of communication, yet they never seem to grasp that and it’s incredibly frustrating to root for them.
It takes Scott nearly three months into Teresa’s pregnancy to find out that she is twice divorced. Scott’s alcohol dependency is rarely discussed on-screen until Teresa begins dumping bottles of wine down the drain after Thanksgiving. Scott and Teresa rack up $70,000 in credit card and medical debt, yet Teresa doesn’t reveal this to Scott until it’s too late to find other options.
Furthermore, it’s never really explained why Scott and Teresa are at such a loss for resources when navigating Austin’s diagnosis. Teresa seems to only have one friend, Lori (Amy Acker), who Scott doesn’t meet until they’re in the hospital at Austin’s delivery. Meanwhile, Scott doesn’t seem to have any real friends or confidants outside of his parents, who only seem to show up on holidays or when it’s convenient for the film to include them.
The same goes for the pair’s navigation through the school system. I saw the film with my girlfriend, a fifth-grade teacher who works with cognitively impaired students and those with autism, and she was fuming at the film’s showcase of Austin’s experience in public school. On our car ride after the movie, she found herself perplexed at how Austin’s introduction into public school comes without any discussion of placing him in a Resources class or any involvement within special education.
As Austin struggles to concentrate, easily led astray by bullies, it’s recommended to switch medications, which resultantly causes Austin to lash out, leading him to psychiatric evaluation. To my girlfriend, the details never added up and the film’s simplistic approach leads to a damaging oversimplification.
The film’s religious shoe-horning is a source of frustration as well, left almost entirely out of advertising (a mention of “from the studio of Jesus Revolution (2023)” is briefly flashed). On the surface, the film markets itself as an inspirational coming-of-age story in the vein of Wonder (2017), swapping out Treacher-Collins Syndrome for autism.
However, the film almost feels like it’s tricking the audience into religious conversion by being so hands-off about its Christian overtones. Whether it makes the film less marketable to general audiences to be upfront about its faith-centered approach is up to the producers, but to leave out that aspect of the film entirely is a massive disservice to what this film wants to accomplish.
While I commend the script’s ambition to tell this story in an unorthodox method, as it navigates the many ins and outs of the LaRette’s struggles, it plays into the same predictable, maudlin movie of the week sentiments that plague this subgenre far too often.
The Unbreakable Boy masquerades as Austin’s story first and foremost, with Austin actually coming in as the second or third priority of the script. Instead, the film centers on Scott’s alcoholism, marriage, and familial strife more than The Unbreakable Boy himself.
Austin is rarely given agency as a character to express himself and is simply reduced to catchphrases and a sitcom aesthetic. The film is less focused on an autistic perspective and more inclined to show how Austin impacts everyone else around him. For a film wanting to do right by its subject, it does everything in its power to disservice him entirely.
All of this packaged together with the film’s Hallmark card sentiments, insipid moralism, and formulaic beats, The Unbreakable Boy is another brick in the wall of autistic representation deserving of much better care.
Review Courtesy of Landon Defever
Feature Image Credit to Lionsgate via The Seattle Times