I didn’t set out to make a ‘diverse’ film. I wanted to create a hero

There’s a particular kind of magic that happens when you see yourself on screen. Not just someone who looks like you, but someone who feels like you. Someone whose story rings familiar – not because it’s perfect, but because it’s true.

That magic is still far too rare.

Gerard O’Dwyer in a scene from What About Sal.

For decades, the stories we’ve consumed on screen have followed a narrow path: familiar faces, familiar arcs, familiar settings. We were taught to believe that these stories were universal. That if they resonated with the mainstream, they must be enough. But enough for whom?

As a filmmaker, I’ve seen first-hand how the industry is slowly, sometimes painfully, waking up to the power of diversity – not just as a checkbox, not just as a quota, but as the lifeblood of meaningful storytelling.

When I made What About Sal, I didn’t set out to make a “diverse” film. I set out to tell the story of one man – Sal, a young adult with Down syndrome on a mission to find the father he’s never known. But in doing so, I quickly realised just how few films had ever placed someone like Sal at the centre. Not as comic relief. Not as a side character. As the hero.

That shouldn’t be rare. But it is.

And that’s why it matters.

Diversity in film isn’t about ticking representation boxes. It’s about widening the lens – both literally and metaphorically – so that the world we see on screen starts to look a little more like the world we actually live in. It’s about nuance, depth, and honesty. It’s about telling the stories that have been sitting quietly on the sidelines, waiting to be heard.

I’m often asked why diversity feels so urgent right now. Why the push? Why the focus? The answer is simple: because storytelling shapes perception. Film teaches us how to see one another. It teaches us who gets to be the hero, who gets to be complex, who gets to be loved, forgiven, redeemed. When we limit the stories, we limit the humanity.

What About Sal director John Jarratt.Credit: Mick Richards

But here’s the good news – and I promise, there is good news.

We’re moving. Slowly, yes. But forward. I see it in the writers’ rooms that are becoming more inclusive. I see it in casting calls that are finally seeking authenticity over assumption. I see it in audiences – hungry, open, and ready to embrace stories that reflect real life in all its messy, beautiful variety.

And I see it in the response to What About Sal.

We premiered the film in community cinemas where people sat quietly through the credits. We were picked up for national distribution, and now, we’re heading to Netflix. Along the way, we’ve heard from parents, siblings, friends – people who said they saw someone like their Sal for the first time. People who felt a little more visible because of one small film.

That’s the power of representation. That’s the ripple effect of inclusive storytelling. It’s easy to get disheartened when we talk about diversity in the entertainment industry. The statistics, the funding gaps, the limited access – it’s all real. But today, I want to focus on what’s growing. On the new voices entering the room. On the stories being told from the inside out. On the filmmakers, the performers, the producers, the crew – all pushing gently, but insistently, toward a broader definition of what “universal” really means.

Because when we open the door to more voices, more stories, and more perspectives, we don’t just create better films – we create a better culture. One that sees difference not as a hurdle, but as a strength.

The future of film is not one story told louder. It’s all of our stories, told honestly. And I, for one, am here for it.

What About Sal is available on Netflix.

John Jarratt is an actor, writer and director.

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