Popcorn Disability: Does Anyone Even Like 'Scent of a Woman?'

Welcome to this installment of Popcorn Disability, the series looking at disability through the lens of pop culture leading to the release of my book Popcorn Disabilities. This is a series exclusive to Gold Film Mavens though this post is free.

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When I started writing Popcorn Disability, the book, people tended to give a lot of suggestions. Was I doing the “big Oscar movie” before rattling off a litany of titles. When most people think of disability in the movies they equate it with awards and, for a while, there was fuel behind that statement. It’s not so much the case now (and, really, it’s a bit of a false stat considering how few movies about disability actually get made, let alone nominated) but the early ‘90s was certainly the stereotype’s time to shine, and there is no movie more indicative of that fallacy than Al Pacino’s Oscar win for 1992’s Scent of a Woman.

Until this week, I’d never watched the Martin Brest-directed film that nabbed Pacino his first (and, to this date, only) Best Actor Oscar after four previous nominations; said previous nominations were for Serpico, Godfather 2, Dog Day Afternoon and And Justice for All. That’s important to remember later. Also, Pacino was nominated in Best Supporting Actor the same year as his Scent of a Woman nom, albeit for Best Supporting Actor for Glengarry Glen Ross. Also worth remembering for later. All I knew about it was he played a blind guy and that everyone in 1992 started saying “who-ah” because of him.

None of that prepared me for, though, for the 156 minutes which would unfold. The film follows mild-mannered prep school teen Charlie Simms (Chris O’Donnell) and the Thanksgiving weekend he spends attending to a blind veteran Lt. Col. Frank Slade (Pacino). Slade is a loudmouth, cringe-inducing ball of fire whose goal over the weekend is to cross off various things on his to-do list before killing himself. You know, as most of us disabled people tend to do (per the movies). Charlie and Frank drive around New York experiencing life, with Charlie committed to making Frank change his mind and Frank imparting words of wisdom that only a blind, vaguely racist/misogynist can.