Mark Ruffalo has spent a good part of his career turning green, smashing things up and saving the world as the Hulk. With Avengers: Doomsday on the horizon, the actor is set to return to the Marvel universe next month.
But before that, in Being Heumann, his latest project for Apple TV+ directed by Sian Heder, the stakes are rather different. There are no superpowers or world-ending battles here, just a group of determined activists who took on the establishment and changed the course of disability rights history. As Ruffalo sees it, that's a pretty extraordinary story in its own right.
The actor, who plays former US Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare Joseph A. Califano Jr., was first drawn to the project through Crip Camp, the acclaimed documentary about a group of disabled young people whose experiences at a summer camp helped inspire a movement for disability rights.
"I was drawn to the project, really, through Sian and what I'd seen in Crip Camp. It was such an incredible documentary, and so surprising. To see all these disabled people who, for the first time in their lives, were out of their homes, away from their parents' overbearing protection, and free — being told that they were capable and that they should live their lives to the fullest — was incredibly moving to me. And they got to experience that with a group of people who were just like them."
The story also resonated with him personally. "My best friend is a paraplegic, too. He became paraplegic over the course of our friendship, so it's something I've experienced personally. This was a story I wanted to be part of."
Ruffalo was familiar with Crip Camp but hadn't known about the 504 sit-in until he read Sian Heder's script. The 1977 protest, during which activists occupied a government building in San Francisco to demand the implementation of Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act, offered an opportunity to explore a pivotal moment in the fight for disability rights. "When I realised this was about the same community coming together in an occupied government building, fighting for disability rights and accessibility in public spaces, I thought, 'It doesn't get better than that.' It's going to be funny, it's going to be moving, and Sian is making it. She has such a wonderful touch with these kinds of stories, obviously, as we saw with CODA. So I was in."
The film's commitment to authenticity extends beyond the story itself to the people bringing it to life. Ruffalo is particularly appreciative of Ruth Madeley, who plays disability rights activist Judith Heumann, and believes her own experience as a disabled actor and activist brings a depth to the performance that would be difficult to replicate otherwise.
"She captures Judy's humanity, and these movies can be very idol-worshipping. I mean, it'd be easy to make a very inspiring movie about Judy. Ruth is disabled. She is a disabled activist, and she's playing one here. And there's a nuance that you just can't get any other way than by really understanding what that struggle is, and taking it seriously, and having someone like Judy be your sort of hero."
For Ruffalo, there are multiple layers of responsibility involved in telling this story. "There's a responsibility to Judy. There's a responsibility to Ruth's own experience and to her own activism, and then a bigger story of how this group of people, these vulnerable people, these outsiders, changed the world."
It is a sentiment that also resonates with Madeley, who sees the film as part of a larger conversation about how disabled performers are represented and, more importantly, the opportunities they are given. While Hollywood has made some progress in casting disabled actors to play disabled characters, she believes the next step is to ensure that they are considered for roles in stories that have nothing to do with disability.
"I do think real change will come when Hollywood starts casting disabled actors in films that aren't even about disability. That's where the change happens. Otherwise, you risk falling into the trap of treating representation as a tick-box exercise: 'Well, we've done the disabled story this year. We've done that. We've shown that.'"
Madeley points to her recent psychological thriller TV series The Rapture, which she filmed just two weeks after wrapping Being Heumann, as an example of the kind of opportunities she hopes to see more of. Although her character's disability is touched upon, the story itself isn't about disability. "So, in a way, I've proved in a single year that I can do both, which is great," she says.
She also believes that Being Heumann has been valuable in bringing together a large number of disabled performers, many of whom haven't previously had the opportunity to work on a production of this scale or network with influential people across the industry. "I will not stop talking about this until I'm dragged off every single set for the rest of my career!" she laughs.
For director Heder, making a film about an important social issue doesn't necessarily mean making it feel like a lesson. In an earlier interview, the filmmaker behind the Oscar-winning CODA had described her intention to avoid making an "eat your spinach" film, an analogy she returns to when discussing her approach to telling Heumann's story.
"I happen to like spinach, so I'm happy to eat mine! But I'm also a mom, and I've had to trick my kids into eating spinach by grinding it up and putting it into mac and cheese," Heder smiles.
Her approach to both CODA and Being Heumann was rooted in a similar philosophy: rather than foregrounding the message, she wanted audiences to first fall in love with the people at the centre of the story. "When you don't lead with the message you're trying to hit people over the head with, and instead allow an audience to fall in love with the characters and identify with a particular family or group of people, you create empathy."
She points to Hale Zukas, one of the activists featured in the film, as an example. "You might look at Hale Zukas in real life and think, here's a guy who communicates using a letterboard and a pointer on his head. How would I ever talk to him? But then you watch Andrew Pilkington as Hale in the film, and he's funny and weird, and you want to hang out with Hale!”
That humanising impulse also shaped her conversations with Heumann, who was keen to ensure that the film communicated the larger political and social significance of the movement. Heder, however, was just as interested in the less public-facing aspects of her life. "Every time I spoke to her, she'd say, 'Make sure you put this in the film. Make sure you include this message. I want people to know this.' And I'd always say, 'Judy, I want to know about the first time you got high in the building. I want to know who you were having sex with. I want to know who you got into a fight with. When were the moments when you doubted yourself and wanted to leave, but couldn't, or felt trapped?'"
Heumann would often ask who wanted to know those details. Heder's response was simple: everybody. "Everybody wants to see themselves in you. Nobody can relate to an icon. But people can relate to the woman who's trying to seduce a guy in an elevator and isn't quite sure how to go about it."
Ruffalo's own character, Califano, presents a different kind of challenge. A man who considers himself a champion of civil rights but is also deeply invested in maintaining his proximity to political power, he is far from a straightforward antagonist.
"He's a very complex guy. He loves being close to power, while simultaneously believing that he's a good man who has always fought for the right things.That set up a really interesting conflict and dynamic within him, which was fascinating to explore as an actor," Ruffalo says.
He describes Califano as a bureaucrat whose instinct is to follow the executive's lead, even when that means avoiding difficult decisions. "A lot of politicians are like this. For many of them, the easiest route is to make the least amount of noise and simply get by. The whole reason you have activists is to create space for politicians to do the right thing. That's how it works."
Ultimately, Califano has to confront the contradiction between the man he believes himself to be and the power he is unwilling to relinquish. "He wants to please the President. He wants to sit next to the President. He wants photographs with the President. So the moment eventually comes when he has to make a decision: Is he really a good man, or is he just a lickspittle to power? That conflict is interesting to me, and it's something bureaucrats need to see. There are bureaucrats in administrations right now who know what the right thing to do is, and they could do it."