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In the new hit movie The Soloist, Nathaniel Ayers, a homeless man making beautiful music on a downtown L.A. street, is asked by journalist Steve Lopez about his hopes and dreams.

"That's easy," Mr. Ayers says. "I just need another two strings for my violin."

Welcome to the world of schizophrenia, Hollywood-style. It's a true story, but sugar-coated.

To its credit, The Soloist is a far cry from the traditional movie portrayal of schizophrenics as murderous people with "split personalities."

Mr. Ayers (played by Jamie Foxx ) is a gifted music student at the Juilliard School when he falls ill.

Schizophrenia tends to strike in late adolescence or early adulthood and seems to target the brilliant.

The combustible mix of swirling voices from the past, waves of paranoia and strange obsessions that can mark untreated schizophrenia is portrayed relatively well in the movie.

But for a seriously ill man living on the streets for years, Mr. Ayers seems in awesome physical health.

For someone living with untreated schizophrenia - a disease marked by psychotic episodes and a loss of contact with reality - the movie version of Mr. Ayers is remarkably coherent. He takes masters-level cello lessons, can sit through a symphony, and his most "crazy" action seems to be wearing funny hats.

But The Soloist is Hollywood, and the story is intended to be a metaphor, not an entirely accurate portrayal of reality - a metaphor for the healing power of music and, more important, of friendship.

Mr. Lopez, a columnist at the Los Angeles Times, befriended Mr. Ayers in a park and wrote a series of columns about him that were the basis for a book and the movie.

The complexity of that friendship is not captured in the movie version of The Soloist, but the film does convey how empathy and understanding can make a real difference to those living with schizophrenia.

That point is driven home, too, in a fascinating new publication from the Schizophrenia Society of Canada.

The study, Schizophrenia in Canada, doesn't have a catchy title, a Hollywood pedigree or a multimillion-dollar budget, but it is chock full of information.

There were, at last count, 234,305 people living with diagnosed schizophrenia in Canada.

"People with schizophrenia are just like everyone else, with hopes and dreams to lead a meaningful life," the introduction reads. "But their illness may hamper this."

To fulfill those dreams, they need a lot more than a couple of violin strings.

They need treatment, recovery-oriented care, and they need the barriers of stigma, discrimination and prejudice to be broken down.

Of course, not all people with schizophrenia are like Nathaniel Ayers. On the contrary, most have jobs and families and a place in the community. Only a tiny percentage live on the streets, and their distinguishing characteristic is that they are untreated.

The maddening part of The Soloist is that it glosses over this crucial issue. People with untreated schizophrenia, for the most part, live horrible, horrible lives. They're consumed by addictions, jailed for their bizarre behaviours, and are about 50 times more likely to commit suicide than the average member of the public.

As part of its research, the Schizophrenia Society commissioned the largest-ever poll of people living with the disease.

A large majority, 70 per cent, identified medication as "extremely important" to their recovery and their lives.

"Comprehensive treatment and management of the illness can help a person with schizophrenia recover to become functional again and find life personally and socially satisfying," the report reads.

But treatment doesn't mean simply pumping someone full of drugs. It means supports such as affordable housing, community-based services, family education and social and recreational opportunities.

In the poll, affordable housing was rated a close second in importance, identified by 68 per cent. This is telling and insightful: Housing provides stability, and without a roof over one's head a severe mental illness can soon become debilitating.

The support of family was deemed "extremely important" by 59 per cent of those surveyed. Again, one cannot understate the value of connectedness, a point that is made eloquently in The Soloist.

But let's face it: What makes the story compelling, in large part, is its uniqueness. People don't go out of their way to befriend those with schizophrenia, least of all those with powerful pulpits like newspaper columnists.

In fact, the opposite is the norm. Loneliness kills people with severe mental illness. And people are alone and untreated because of stigma - because of the stereotypes and prejudices we harbour.

The Soloist, hopefully, will show the public that people with schizophrenia are real people who, no matter how sick, can recover and thrive. (Mr. Ayers has been in stable housing for several years and continues to pursue his music.)

But the last word goes to the authors of the Schizophrenia in Canada report: "Recovery from schizophrenia involves much more than recovery from the illness itself. For many of those who have experienced this serious illness, it also means 'recovery' from discrimination, missed opportunities and lost dreams."