Day 27: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

"Hold fast to the human inside of you, and you'll survive."

There is a very fine line between a film that toils on sainthood and one that borders on at least some sense of honesty. Unfortunately, most Hollywood films border on the former as they hope to warm audience’s hearts with characters who seemingly do no evil deed. Whether it’s an underdog athlete, or a drug addled rock star, people love to see tragic or underestimated characters rise to top just as the music swells. These films obviously have a place in the world, but sometimes too much good is really a bad thing. With this in mind, I turn you in the direction of Julian Schnabel’s fantastic “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”. As you can probably discern, the “Diving Bell” is the kind of film that has its good vibrations, but it also refuses to place its protagonist on a pedestal. Instead, our protagonist, Jean-Dominique Bauby (Mathieu Amalric), is a flawed man with a life full of regrets. Yet, these regrets only creep into Bauby’s mind when a stroke riddles his body, and consequently, he loses any control of his extremities. The medical term for this, as indicated in the film, would be locked in syndrome, where the patient has full function of their mind, but everything else might as well be concocted out of concrete. Despite his lack of control over most of his body, Bauby has control of two things: his left eye and his mind.

From this comes the more inspiring aspect of the film as Bauby dedicates himself to keeping his mind sharp, and his soul from falling further into an abyss. Through a speech therapist and the assistance of a handful of his friends, Bauby does the unthinkable: he learns to communicate by merely blinking his eye. This tedious and agonizing task becomes further impressive when Bauby ends up writing his memoir, which the film itself is based off of, by blinking his eye at an incessant rate. With his eye drying out and bloodshot, Bauby pushes himself to gain an aspect of his life that was taken away from him. If you can’t get inspired by that, then I really don’t know what could possibly move you. Notwithstanding Bauby’s iron will, his sheer desire to live his life from his death bed comes after years of womanizing, abandonment, and cynicism. And despite the potential enlightenment Bauby could find within his newfound condition, he often falls back on his negative tendencies. He’s cynical of  the doctors around him, which actually impedes any progress he hopes to make initially as he behaves in a condescending manner. This type of behavior also works its way into Bauby’s personal relationships. Bauby treats women like objects, a trait that doesn’t quite disappear when he’s locked in, and is further supplanted by the distance he puts between himself and the mother of his children. Subsequently, his own flesh and blood end up reaping the burden of this emotional resentment.

Bauby is a flawed individual without a doubt, but through these flaws it makes his story far more relatable because he is that much more human. Through recognition of his positive and negatives, we are side by side with Bauby. Ronald Harwood’s screenplay is nothing short of exemplary as he has constructed a narrative that isn’t more damning than it is inspiring. But, for as good as Harwood’s screenplay is, director Julian Schnabel is the film’s most valuable asset as he places us in the claustrophobic existence of Bauby. Through the use of first person shots, where it feels like we’re literally peering out of Bauby’s eye, Schnabel heightens our anxieties. We blink when Bauby does and our mind reels when his is going off the rails. Very few films have attempted this form of storytelling and have succeeded, but Schnabel is able to strike a balance between his experimental P.O.V direction and conventional shots in the third person. The latter is often used for flashbacks, while the former is used to push us further into the deep recesses of Bauby’s mind. It is through these types of storytelling that Julian Schnabel, with the help of cinematographer Janusz Kaminski, creates lush and artistic shots that not only demonstrate the fragmented life of Bauby, but also the appreciation he slowly builds for the beauty life has to offer him. Such beauty is further magnified when it’s intertwined with Bauby’s poetic and often humorous musings on life, religion, and family.

Through his vision and the performances of his crew and actors, Schnabel is able to capture the lyricism of Jean-Dominique’s Bauby’s final moments in his vessel. He does so not at the expense of the source material nor at the behest of Hollywood convention. Instead, Schnabel immerses us in both the prison that Bauby’s body becomes, and the vast, open field his mind is. We get to know Bauby inside and out, from his past and present behavior. He isn’t insufferable by any means, but his characterization is one that passes on sanctity instead of humanity.  From this, an undeniable connection is made between the character and the audience, which makes the staggering last moments of Bauby's life beautiful, inspirational, and poetic. In the hands of Hollywood, this film would've been bubbling over with false sentimentality. But, thanks to Schnabel and the team he‘s assembled, the film is a reminder of who we are, faults and all, and the potential our lives can muster despite disaster.