The first time I met Tanner Craft, his fine mind was buffeted by storms of frustration, anxiety, and confusion. His mom, Tanya Craft, rode out those storms with him, helping him find ways to navigate school, adjust medication, and cope with an autism spectrum disorder that made everything in life a lot harder.
The second time I met Tanner Craft, he was a smart, funny college student who thought I might like to see how he’d changed in eight years. He was interested in politics, Spider-Man, comedy, movies—and a young woman he’d just met.
Stay up-to-date with the local arts scene
Subscribe to the weekly St. Louis Arts+Culture newsletter to discover must-attend art exhibits, performances, festivals, and more.
Last week, I talked to Craft for the third time. He’s now studying film—and his narrative short, “Diagnosis,” will kick off the Drama 2 evening of the St. Louis Filmmakers Showcase. (Oh, and he’s engaged to that young woman.)
Had you always planned on making your first project autobiographical?
It’s actually not my first. My first was a silly little comedy I made in no time flat. My second was an unmitigated disaster. It was for a class, and I couldn’t come up with a script in time, so I used one a friend gave me. My head was 100 percent in it, but maybe not my heart. This one—when you’re a comedian, they say to tell jokes you think are funny, and when you’re an artist, to make what you know.
“Diagnosis” is from your mother’s point of view. Did she help shape the film?
I asked what her immediate feelings were when she was told my diagnosis. She said that at first, she felt scared, uncertain, sad. Then she wanted as much information as she could find.
Was it tough, casting your own mom?
We auditioned five people, including someone from Chicago. When I auditioned Rachel Ehret, I just thought, “Perfect. This is who I want.”
Was it just me, or was the neurologist who gives the diagnosis a little chilly? Especially when she tells Tanya, “It impairs his ability to communicate and interact with others.”
That was intentional. I was trying to isolate the character of Tanya and make her feel alone and “Oh, God, what do I do?”
How did you direct the 6-year-old who plays you as a young child?
I’d try to relate it to something he knew, or just give physical instructions about movement. The most difficult thing was keeping his energy up; he’s a little kid, and he’d expel it all at once. The scene where he’s having a meltdown over his train, I said, “Do you have a toy you care about?” He said, “Yeah, a robot.” I said, “Imagine it’s gone, and you know you dropped it outside, but you can’t talk.” Still, that long tracking shot during the meltdown was hard to do, almost 30 takes. Most scenes, we had five to eight.
Was there any significance to using a toy train?
My mom told me the reason she knew something was wrong was that when other kids played with trains, they would drag them along the track, and I would crash them into each other. That was painful for my audio guy in post [production] to try to clean up the dialogue, because [Manny Post, who played the young Tanner] kept banging trains. But I wanted the constant reminder.
The FAMILY RULES woodblock sign in the background is the perfect, bittersweet touch.
That was a happy accident. We shot mainly at my house. My mom and Rachel talked to each other a lot—my mom’s a great talker. Lord knows I needed that in a mom!
I thought it was interesting when Tanya saw an article about vaccines and smiled dismissively.
I wanted to bring a moment of levity. Vaccines don’t cause autism.
And I loved the way the older Tanner used a communication device.
I wanted to give him his voice, but I didn’t want it to come off as, oh, his disability is gone.
You named your company Bomb Squad Entertainment—why?
There’s this old Spider-Man video game where he says there’s no need to call the bomb squad: “I am the bomb squad.”
“Diagnosis” will screen in Washington University’s Brown Hall at 6:15 p.m. on July 14.
