By Steven Loeb
In December of 1995, a 43-year-old man named Jean-Dominique Bauby, who was the editor of Elle magazine in Paris, suffered a stroke. After nearly a month in a coma, he finally awoke to find himself stricken with cerebromedullospinal disconnection, better known as Locked-In Syndrome. Bauby was completely paralyzed, except for the use of his left eye. This is merely the beginning of his story.
What resulted from this devastating injury was his personal memoir of being in this condition, entitled “The Diving Bell and Butterfly,” which has now been turned into a film. Bauby was able to write his story of love, loss, heartache and strength through a system of blinks devised by his speech therapist. This painstaking project took tremendous amounts of patience from everyone involved, and the film seeks to try the audience’s endurance.
Over and over we hear the letters of the French alphabet until we can no longer stand it. While some filmmakers have shied away from putting their audience in such an uncomfortable position, director Julian Schnabel gives the film real strength by not hiding from details such as these. This is what Bauby’s life became, and only by showing the audience the truth can they even come close to understanding what it was like.
From the first frame to the last, the audience sees the world almost entirely from Bauby’s point of view. We see things the way he would have seen them, including people talking to him and accidentally walking out of his line of sight, not realizing that he is no longer able to see them. More importantly, we also are presented with his narration, which is at times funny, horrified, confused and depressed. What elevates this film nearly to the level of a masterpiece is its depiction of Jean-Dominique Bauby as a man, not as a character. Bauby, in his personal life, was not a particularly nice person; he had two children with a woman who he never married, cheated on and then left for someone younger. The film does not depict him as a superhero; he was just a regular man, and his most human moments are when he expresses regret over not seeing his children more or when he attempts to speak to his ailing father on the phone. Bauby is at times weak, at times inspirational, but he is always human.
Though the story itself is enough to make viewers appreciate their own lives, the three main contributors to this film, the director, cinematographer Janusz Kaminski and star Mathieu Amalric combine to make the story into a thrilling film that makes one appreciate how lucky we all are to be alive and how tragically ironic life can be.
Amalric’s performance is deceptively simple; we see him in flashbacks as the pre-stroke Bauby, womanizing and carefree, as well as the Bauby whose only way of communicating is blinking. There are two scenes in particular, both involving Bauby’s father, played by Max Von Sydow, which showcase the fantastic performances in this film. The first is a flashback, in which Bauby is shaving his father, who seems to have an early stage of Alzheimer’s. Though forgetful, his father makes a point of telling him how proud he is, and though Bauby does not respond, it is obvious that this is not a meaningless statement.
The second scene is after Bauby has had his stroke, and his father attempts to call him. The two men, who have had enough trouble communicating before, yearn to be able to speak to each other again, Bauby especially. This is where the genius of Amalric’s acting is showcased. With only the movement of a single eye, he is able to tell the audience everything they need to know. All of his hopes, wishes and desires are understood without anything being spelled out. To witness this is to observe something breathtaking.
Though this film is extremely inspiring, that word itself does not give Bauby’s feat of strength, or the film itself, its due justice. Bauby’s story is almost beyond comprehension. It is possibly the most horrifying thing that can happen to a person: still being able to think; wanting to touch, to feel, but never being able to. The film does an extraordinary job of making people aware of just how much they have to lose.