A vision of the common good emerges from this story with quiet strength: the vision of those who refuse to let vulnerable people slip through the cracks of society and the state. Directors Eric Toledano and Olivier Nakache—known for the success of Untouchables, which turns ten this year—bring this vision to the screen in Hors Norme (The Specials. Fuori dal comune, 2019, now available to rent on Prime Video). Inspired by real people and real events, the film follows two Paris organizations that serve young people with autism in its most complex forms. These are minors with severe communication difficulties and dangerous self-harming behaviors—young people who rarely fit into standard facilities because they are hard to manage and contain. They risk instead being institutionalized, medicated heavily, or physically restrained.
Bruno runs one of these organizations. An observant Jewish man, he has the weakness (or courage?) to say yes to anyone who asks for help. His day center and shelter soon holds far more residents than his official permits allow. Families and health services have nowhere else to turn for an alternative that is both humane and respectful of their children's dignity. Supporting Bruno in this work outside the rules is Malik, who directs a partner organization that recruits and trains young people—themselves struggling in the Paris suburbs—to work one-on-one with these difficult cases. Malik is Muslim. Between his organization, Le Voix des Justes, and Bruno's, a powerful collaboration has taken shape: a method that rests on personal relationships and genuine care.
The film unfolds over roughly a week. We watch the intricate, demanding daily life of both organizations as a state health agency sends inspectors to investigate whether Bruno's work is sound and legal. The inspectors observe, question, interview—Joseph's mother, Malik, the psychiatric emergency doctor, Bruno himself. But no one has anything to argue against them except the obvious truth: what is happening here prevents tragic institutionalization and offers an educational alternative that gives these young people a dignified, livable life.
Like Untouchables, this film shows the directors' gift for treating a potentially tragic subject with the lightness of comedy. But here, Toledano and Nakache were determined to match their method to their message. They wanted to make a film about inclusion without excluding the very people whose lives they were portraying. So they cast carefully: alongside strong performances from Vincent Cassel as Bruno and Reda Kateb as Malik, they cast actual educators and young people with autism from the two real organizations that inspired the story.
Benjamin Lesier, who has autism less complex than the others, plays Joseph, a man in his thirties living with his mother. Marco Locatelli, brother of a boy with autism, plays Valentino, a young man whose severe self-harm makes him nearly impossible to support. Valentino's difficult story drives us through the extraordinary world of these organizations. Joseph's lighter, more ironic presence provides contrast while still capturing real traits of autism—his obsession with train alarms that constantly lands him in danger, his struggle to find work, his battles with aggression.
In this shifting emotional tone, the film invites us to think about things we ought to know better: families left alone to bear the weight of a child's severe disability; the patient work of supporting someone toward independence and protected employment after they age out of day programs—and the role society must play. The film shows us that medical protocols don't always work, and that in those cases, the difference comes down to "faith or heart," as the psychiatrist tells the inspectors, speaking of men like Bruno.
In directing such a varied cast, Toledano and Nakache captured something true and beautiful about people with disabilities—never betraying their trust or dignity. They were moved by their first meetings with Stéphane Benhamou and Daoud Tatou, the real Bruno and Malik. They learned of these men's radical intuition: place young people with autism alongside young people the social services had written off as unreliable. The result? The struggling young people find inner peace and a sense of responsibility—and the mystery of what it means to be human deepens. Two tenacious, gentle men, Bruno and Malik, who believe absolutely in the common good. Both grounded in faiths that, though different, spring from concern for the vulnerable. Both building the bonds without which no society truly becomes a community.