You will never find a moment so tense and so mundane at the same time. Never. Not as long as you roam the planet. The scene is a handi-capable manchild placing groceries inside a bag and you’ll never believe how tense it can be. You will want to yell at the screen: “NO, NOT THE EGGS!”
Or at least I did.
This is the power of film. When done well, you will care about the placing of groceries in a bag the same way you care about the health status of your only child. Kudos, film. I think. I feel a little cheated that there isn’t more than grocery stacking at stake. Well, there is and there isn’t. I’m getting ahead of myself.
Oscar (Lance Kinsey) and his adult son Billy (Cole Massie) live alone in a modest urban dwelling. Billy is disabled. How disabled? Hard to say, but his mental -which isn’t quite adult- is probably better off than his body. Every day, his aging father has to bathe Billy, change his diaper, and dress him. The wheelchair-bound kid cannot do a whole lot of things for himself.
That has to change, for Oscar has advanced colon cancer and his days are numbered.
At this point, I was immediately reminded of RFK, Jr’s asshole position that kids with autism will “never hold a job,” “never fall in love,” and “never use a toilet unassisted.” The worst part of these remarks is not that they’re completely false, it’s that they represent a certain type of very common and conservative voting mindset that truly believes people incapable of working, loving, or using a toilet unassisted are neither human, nor worthy of our attention.
Counterpoint: The Paper Bag Plan.
The object is to get Billy to a point where he can take care of himself after Oscar is gone. And it’s not going to be easy; the film never tells us exactly how bad off Billy is (we have plenty of hints, and we can see how he responds in the adult world, but we still never get a big picture on the kid). We do know, however, that tasks we take for granted do not come easily for 
Billy. Oscar has decided to develop Billy’s skill as a supermarket bagger … and then we’ll work on Billy being able to feed, clean, dress, and generally take care of himself. It is a sad commentary on modern society that Oscar feels he needs to address Billy’s ability to command a paycheck long before we address Billy’s inability to feed himself.
The Paper Bag Plan is sad and sweet and depressing and uplifting all at once. The camera rarely takes its eye off either Oscar or Billy, which is beneficial because the emotion never seems cheap, and detrimental because we never quite see the big picture. Hence, we aren’t able to judge Billy’s progress properly: it’s like a joke where you know the set-up and the punchline, but the meat focuses entirely on the bartender and excludes the development of the premise. But the ability of the direction to get lost in the details makes the film what it is.
If nothing else, this is a great story for people who believe RFK, Jr’s assessment. Watch this film and tell me Billy’s life has no worth. I dare you. I freaking double dog dare you, asshole.
There once was a disabled kid, Billy
Without any adult skills, no really
An idea hit his pop
“Let’s set up a home shop
And teach you how to work yourself silly.”
Rated PG-13, 108 Minutes
Director: Anthony Lucero
Writer: Anthony Lucero
Genre: Lives you are going to care about more than you ever thought you could
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: The empathetic
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: The distant
