When the marketing team behind Me Before You came up with the hashtag #LiveBoldly to promote this story of a young disabled man considering assisted dying, they could scarcely have predicted that it would be used to expose the movie’s problematic message. “Do you really want us to #LiveBoldly or do you just want us to #diequickly?” asked one commenter during a Twitter Q&A session last week with the film’s star, Sam Claflin. He plays Will, a wealthy former playboy who becomes involved with Lou (Emilia Clarke), a kooky misfit in thrift-shop chic. It’s rather as if Thomas Crown had fallen for Amélie.

The film, adapted by Jojo Moyes from her own best-selling novel, portrays the burgeoning romance between these two apparently mismatched souls. But their differences are not simply sartorial. Lou has full use of her body. Will has been quadriplegic since a road accident several years earlier. Before Lou became his carer, Will decided he wanted to kill himself. Now the Dignitas paperwork is in the post and it seems that Lou’s chipper disposition can do nothing to change his mind. A spoiler alert will be necessary for anyone who hasn’t read the book and so won’t know that he goes ahead with his plan.

The full meaning of the name “Will” becomes clear only after he dies and leaves Lou more money than she has ever seen. It will be enough cash, he says, for her to swap her timid life for adventure. The problem, according to activists who picketed the film’s premiere last week, is this motto applies in this context only to the able-bodied – and comes at the cost of a disabled man’s life. Many of those same activists also used Twitter to take issue with the film. The hashtag #MeBeforeEuthanasia was used by @grindmastrgrant, who tweeted: “I’m not your inspiration porn and I’m not a thing to be pitied or killed off to make the audience cry,” while @JohnBrianKelly wrote: “I have Will’s disability. Stop killing me on film! #liveboldly, fight cripple snuff films.”

The idea that it is better to be dead than disabled has been seen many times before. In Million Dollar Baby, it is expressed in a mercy killing. In Whose Life Is It Anyway? and The Sea Inside, it takes the form of a quadriplegic man fighting the medical establishment for his right to die. The familiar spectre of the worthless disabled body is hidden behind the apparently valiant struggle of an individual against the state.

The Sea Inside. Photograph: c.Fine Line/Everett / Rex Features

Of course, it would be wrong to pretend that suicide and disability are mutually exclusive. The Sea Inside is based on Ramón Sampedro’s life, while Me Before You is partly inspired by the 23-year-old rugby player Daniel James, who chose to kill himself after a severe spinal injury. (His parents said he was “not prepared to live what he felt was a second-class existence”.) But the screen-time granted to these stories, to the exclusion of more diverse representations of disability, has helped plant in the public consciousness the notion that life is worth less when it resides in a disabled body.

“We have so few opportunities in the media to explore disability,” says the actor and activist Liz Carr, who participated in the protest. “But there is a disproportionate number of stories which relate to the ‘problem’ of disability being solved by death. Television and film seem to love those individuals who want to die. They’re less keen to cover the rest of us who might want to live but are struggling to get the health and social care resources to do so.”

The screenplay offers one pre-emptive riposte to the charge that it is speaking for all disabled people. “I get that this could be a good life,” says Will. “But it’s not my life. I can’t be the sort of man who accepts this.” Since Will is shown to be strong, determined and uncompromising, it seems clear that the “sort of man” who would put up with a paralysed body and its demands could only be inferior to him. This problem could be tempered, if not solved, by the presence of just one disabled character to provide some contrast and show that suicide isn’t the only option. But there isn’t one. The film isolates Will entirely, stacking the odds so that the choice to take his own life is made to seem like the logical one.

Betty Blue. Photograph: Moviestore/Rex/Shutterstock

“When non-disabled people talk of suicide, they’re discouraged and offered prevention,” she says. “Even though it’s legal, it’s not seen as desirable. When a disabled person talks of it, though, suddenly the conversation is overtaken with words like ‘choice’ and ‘autonomy’ and people are rushing to uphold these prized principles whilst talk of prevention and mental health support are rare. Will is not offered any psychiatric support. What kind of message is this that we’re giving disabled people and the non-disabled audiences?”

Only in its acknowledgement of economic disparity does Me Before You come close to being honest. Accompanying Will to a glitzy wedding, Lou puts it to him that he would not even be talking to her were she not his carer. In fact, she would most likely be serving the drinks at such a function. A working-class woman like her would be as invisible socially to him and his friends as the disabled are to the rest of society.

Disability in popular culture often exists to allow the able-bodied to unlock their potential. Lou is a beneficiary of Will’s death, not unlike the struggling novelist in Betty Blue, who is inspired to write his next book only once he has smothered his hospitalised girlfriend. But Lou’s story also plays like a chaste, romantic ideal dreamed up by the abstinence lobby. Will won’t be making any sexual demands on Lou. And, like the perfect terminally ill boyfriend in The Fault in Our Stars, he won’t stick around to get old and wrinkly: Lou can treasure the image of her handsome billionaire forever. As love stories go, it’s every bit as creepy as Ghost, which suggested that the perfect relationship was exclusively spiritual, or Pretty Woman, which proposed the idea of prostitution as a short-cut to true love.

The Fault in Our Stars. Photograph: Allstar/20th Century Fox/Sportsphoto Ltd.

One of the improvements that Will makes in Lou’s life is to open her eyes to foreign-language films. This he does by showing her Of Gods and Men, Xavier Beauvois’s 2010 drama inspired by the French Cistercian monks in Tibhirine, Algeria, who refused to flee in 1996 despite violence from Islamic extremists. The monks made themselves martyrs rather than forsake the area and its people. Will’s choice is entirely symbolic: it prepares Lou, and the audience, for the idea of self-sacrifice. Somehow this manages to feel like an insult both to disabled people in general and those monks in particular. If their murder is analogous to Will’s choice to kill himself so that Lou can have a buffer of wealth, then the stock-price of martyrdom has plummeted since the days of Joan of Arc.

It’s typical of the soft-pedalling tendency found in Me Before You that it borrows the most evasive element of Beauvois’s film. When the monks trudge off to meet their terrible fate, it is in a blizzard; they fade from view prettily, in contrast to other characters seen having their throats slit. They get a send-off every bit as euphemistic as Thelma and Louise, or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Me Before You does the same for Will. One minute he’s lying fetchingly in his bed at Dignitas, the next we dissolve to Lou receiving news of her windfall in a Parisian cafe. This movie which has stood proudly behind Will’s decision to die seems in an awful hurry to conceal what that might entail. Death, like disabled people who choose to live boldly, is nowhere to be seen.

In the UK, the Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123. In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is on 13 11 14.