You’ve probably seen that image before—Marlee Matlin, on set for Children of a Lesser God, seemingly distant, described as “off in her own silent world.” It’s the kind of poetic caption that makes hearing people feel wise and reflective, as though they’ve unlocked some deep truth about Deafness. But Matlin herself? She scoffs at that phrasing. Her world has never been silent—not in thought, not in feeling, and definitely not in impact.
And that scoff? That eye-roll-inducing moment? That’s exactly where Shoshannah Stern kicks off her intimate, layered, and incredibly moving documentary, Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore. With that title, Stern isn’t just offering a warm embrace to a beloved icon—she’s posing a question: In what ways has Marlee Matlin stopped being alone?
The obvious answer might seem to be her CODA co-star Troy Kotsur’s historic Oscar win in 2022. After all, he became only the second Deaf actor to win an Academy Award, after Matlin herself broke that barrier back in 1986. But Stern, who is also Deaf and a storyteller in her own right, refuses to let the narrative be that simple. Not Alone Anymore is about far more than awards and headlines. It’s a celebration of resilience, a confrontation with the culture of exclusion, and, ultimately, a love letter to the Deaf community’s ongoing fight for recognition—not just in Hollywood, but in society at large.
Breaking Through the Frame
Let’s rewind to 1986. Marlee Matlin, then only 21, stunned audiences with her breakthrough performance in Children of a Lesser God. The film itself, centered around the romance between a hearing speech teacher and a fiercely independent Deaf woman, was unlike anything mainstream American cinema had dared to tackle. And Matlin? She wasn’t just good—she was revelatory. She brought rawness, complexity, and charm to the screen in a way that couldn’t be ignored.
And Hollywood did notice. She won the Academy Award for Best Actress, becoming the youngest winner in that category and, notably, the first (and still only) Deaf performer to take home an Oscar. But with the acclaim came a wave of voyeuristic curiosity. The media wasn’t just celebrating her; they were dissecting her. Her Deafness became a spectacle, her personal life tabloid fodder.
That included her high-profile—and eventually painful—relationship with co-star William Hurt. While public narratives painted their romance as just another on-set love affair, the truth was far darker. As Stern’s documentary carefully reveals, Matlin was dealing with abuse behind the scenes, a story that adds emotional weight to the glitz of her early fame. It’s a reminder: even when someone looks like they’re winning, they might still be fighting to survive.
“A Fluke” or A Force?
Following her Oscar win, instead of opening doors, Hollywood began closing them. Many viewed her success as a “fluke”—a kind of one-time exception to the unspoken rule that Deaf actors couldn’t lead films. Executives saw her Deafness not as an asset but as an inconvenience. Scripts would need to be altered. Communication on set would need accommodations. And so the casting offers dwindled—not because she lacked talent, but because the industry lacked imagination.
But Matlin? She’s never been one to sit quietly and take no for an answer.
With Not Alone Anymore, we see how she transformed that rejection into purpose. She threw herself into advocacy. She became a face of the Deaf President Now movement, pushing for the appointment of a Deaf president at Gallaudet University, the world’s only university designed for Deaf and hard-of-hearing students. And when she wasn’t marching or speaking at rallies, she was testifying before Congress, fighting for closed captioning and pushing for accessibility in television and film.
It wasn’t just about her career anymore—it was about an entire community being seen, heard (in their own language), and included.
Rewriting the Rules of Storytelling
Shoshannah Stern’s direction isn’t just respectful of Matlin’s story—it’s revolutionary in its own right. Most documentaries featuring Deaf subjects treat ASL (American Sign Language) as a secondary language—something to be translated for hearing audiences. Here, the opposite happens. This is a documentary told primarily in ASL, with spoken English coming second. Interviews with hearing individuals are translated from ASL, not the other way around.
It’s a subtle shift, but one that signals a major narrative reorientation: this isn’t a story about Deafness told for the hearing. It’s a story for, by, and from the Deaf perspective. That, in itself, is part of the liberation Matlin has been fighting for all along.
Many of the film’s most tender and powerful moments take place on a comfy couch, where Stern and Matlin sit side by side, signing back and forth with an intimacy that feels almost like watching two old friends flip through a shared photo album. Their conversation ranges from personal regrets to triumphant moments, from the cultural shifts Matlin has witnessed to the dreams she still holds dear.
And thanks to the use of color-coded captions, the film welcomes all audiences while ensuring that it doesn’t default to centering hearing viewers. Accessibility, here, isn’t a feature—it’s the foundation.
More Than a Biography
At face value, this is Matlin’s story. Her journey. Her impact. Her laughter, her scars, her perseverance. But dig deeper, and you’ll see that Stern is crafting something bigger—a social history, a cultural critique, and a call to arms.
We’re taken back to Matlin’s childhood, a time marked by low expectations. Educators and doctors too often assumed that Deafness equaled inability. And sadly, this was common. The documentary paints a bleak but honest picture of how Deaf children were historically sidelined in schools, isolated even in spaces meant to nurture them. Their potential, their creativity, and their personhood were all too often dismissed or “managed.”
Hollywood didn’t do much better. Over the decades, Deaf characters—when they appeared at all—were played by hearing actors, stripped of authenticity and depth. And when Deaf actors did land roles, those parts were often written as token gestures or inspirational footnotes. Matlin, of course, exploded that mold—but the documentary makes clear that her success didn’t erase the barriers for others.
This is why Stern’s choice to center the Deaf experience so unapologetically matters. It’s not just about representation—it’s about re-educating a culture that still treats Deafness as a defect rather than a different way of being.
The Power of Presence
Perhaps the most moving thread in Not Alone Anymore is the way it redefines power. Marlee Matlin didn’t charge into rooms with bravado. She didn’t shout (literally or metaphorically) to be heard. Her power lies in presence—in showing up, in standing firm, in signing her truth even when no one wanted to listen.
In one stirring moment, we see her delivering a commencement address. “The handicap of Deafness does not lie in the ear,” she says, “but in the mind of those who wish to handicap me.” That quote could hang on the walls of any museum—it’s not just a mic-drop moment, it’s the very thesis of the film.
Matlin’s legacy, then, isn’t just in her awards or her résumé. It’s in the hearts she’s moved, the doors she’s cracked open, and the cultural landscape she’s helped redraw. She’s lived a life on her own terms, signed her own narrative, and invited others to do the same.
A Legacy Signed in Light
By the end of the documentary, you may find yourself scrambling to rewatch Children of a Lesser God, or diving into CODA, or even looking up Matlin’s old interviews and speeches. That’s not by accident.
Not Alone Anymore doesn’t require you to come in with knowledge of Matlin’s work. It welcomes the uninitiated with warmth and clarity. But when it’s done with you? You’ll walk away not only with respect for Matlin but with a better understanding of the richness, resilience, and brilliance of Deaf culture.
It’s a tribute. It’s a mirror. It’s a blueprint for change.
And above all else, it’s a reminder that Marlee Matlin was never truly alone—she’s just finally being joined by the rest of us who are learning to see, and listen, differently.
