“I’ve decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two
things aren’t paralyzed. My imagination and my memory. They’re the only two
ways I can escape from my diving bell.”
Imagine
being completely paralyzed aside from one eye, yet you’re completely aware,
your brain fully functional. Follow this imaginary tangent and imagine that a
form of communication has been developed for you using the alphabet and
specifically placed blinks in order to demarcate one letter at a time. This is the true story of Jean-Dominique
Bauby. He was able to communicate, one
blink at a time, in order to write his memoir, the very work upon which this
film is based.
After re-watching Julian Schnabel’s
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly in preparation for this piece I found
myself at a loss for words. Upon reflection I remembered feeling the exact same
way after my first viewing; it’s hard to imagine that such a seemly direct
story could hold such power. In this film, as well as the memoir of the same
name it’s based on, we get the chance to live Jean-Dominique Bauby’s life for a
spell. While the subject matter does surround a man who has gone through a
massive stroke and suffers from locked-in syndrome, the film is not an entirely
melancholic affair. Schnabel’s glorious visual realization of the memoir is
truly an imaginative journey into an intriguing life filled with moments of
wonder, frustration, melancholy (of course), tenderness, and a lively amount of
sarcastic wit. With the use of cinematic technique and imaginative style the
film sweeps the viewer through life in Bauby’s “diving bell.”
The reason
it’s difficult to find the words to describe this film is its visual nature;
words just can’t describe the sway of its images. Much of the power of this
film lies in the ways that Schnabel has chosen to convey this extraordinary
memoir and the gorgeous images shot by Janusz Kaminski. For the majority of the
film the camera lens truly becomes Bauby’s eye, it’s blurry when he first wakes
up, images distort when his eye is strained, and everything in frame is
immersed in water when he tears up. We even watch from his perspective, as one
of his eyes is sewn shut to prevent ocular sepsis. In conjunction with this
technique we are also provided his inner monologue as well as a front row seat,
and/or his perspective shots, during a variety of flashbacks and imaginary
dream sequences. Sometimes we even get a metaphorical look at how Bauby feels,
stranded on a dead end pier in the middle of the water or screaming inside a
lifeless diving suit. All of this comes together to truly place the viewer in
his mind, not as merely a voyeur alongside the author.
In addition
to the way the story was told, the acting throughout the film is subtle and
spot on. Mathieu Amalric is perfect both as the locked-in Bauby and the lively
figure in memory. The entire supporting cast was spot on; Max Von Sydow even
graced the screen as Jean-Dominique’s beloved, yet somewhat senile father. With
every actor and actress the key seemed to be subtlety, even when the action
expressed was exuberant, the true meaning is found between the lines. The
fragile nature of life seemed to be a vine throughout the film.
The bottom
line is that this immersive film vividly brings to life an extremely
interesting story. The subject matter could very easily have turned fodder for
a cheap tear-jerker in the hands of a less capable director, but Schnabel,
who’s helmed two other artist’s biopics, Basquiat (1996) and Before Night
Falls (2000), brings the film to life. In place of scenes specifically
placed to pull at heartstrings we get a more realistic set of acts strung
together to give us both a look into Bauby’s life and his experience with
locked-in syndrome. It could easily be an all too sentimental film, however the
film created is beautiful, whimsical and reflective.
- Edward
Hill
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