Imagine one day falling into a life confined to a hospital bed, fully cognitive, but completely paralyzed and unable to communicate save for the blinking of an eye.
In The Diving Bell and The Butterfly, director Julian Schnabel (Before Night Falls/Basquiat) provides a mere glimpse into these unending horrors and frustrations that can only be truly understood by those who have experienced "locked-in syndrome" first hand.
Based on the autobiography of the same title, Butterfly tells the story of Jean-Dominique Bauby (Mathieu Amalric, Munich), editor in chief of the French magazine Elle, who suffered a stroke at age 43, resulting in complete paralysis, apart from the ability to move his left eye.
Still fully conscious, Bauby relies on his imagination, "freeing" himself from the confines of his body through a series of dreams, fantasies, and memories.
Bauby's firsthand account of his experiences, dictated through a crude and lengthy process involving the blinking of his one fully functioning eye, is successfully and brilliantly translated to the big screen under Schnabel's unique direction. This cumbersome form of communication creates a suspense that adds more emotion and depth to every word that Bauby narrates.
Nearly the entire film is seen from the perspective of Bauby himself, beginning with the blurry, scared awakening from a two-week coma, and spanning everything from his day-to-day hospital routine, to bizarre sexual fantasies and memories of a once-fulfilling life.
The persistent first-person camera view gives the audience a sense of entrapment and frustration, as if they too are subject to the same insurmountable barriers that Bauby is forced to deal with.
The sensation is so powerful that whenever the viewer is rewarded with a glimpse into Bauby's imagination, they cannot help but feel a sense of freedom, or relief. The contrast of a blurry, drab hospital room, to a colorful, sprawling field demonstrates to the audience the kind of unlimited freedom that Bauby sought through his powerful imagination.
Amalric's performance mostly takes the form of inner monologue, as Bauby, unable to speak aloud, narrates his experiences. Rich with sarcasm and witty one-liners, Bauby's monologue is stark, poetic, and strangely comedic.
In the scenes in which we see Bauby in the third person, Amalric is able to convey a complete spectrum of human emotions through a contorted face that most would dismiss as quite inhuman.
Other remarkable performances include Marie-Josee Croze who plays Henriette (Jacquou le Croquant), Bauby's beautiful speech therapist, and Emmanuelle Seigner (La Vie En Rose) as Celine, the mother of Bauby's children.
Henriette is given the task of teaching Bauby how to communicate with others, and throughout the process Croze conveys a sense of commitment, frustration, determination and resolve, matching that of Bauby himself.
Celine supports Bauby through the entire ordeal, despite the fact that he is in continuous contact with his former mistress, Ines (Agathe de La Fontaine, I Love Andrea). Seigner delivers one of the most emotionally charged performances in a scene where Celine is forced to translate a phone conversation between Ines and Bauby.
The most moving scene of the film, however, takes place as Bauby's father (Max Von Sydow, Emotional Arithmetic) breaks down as he talks to his son via telephone for the first time since the crippling stroke.
There seems to be a continuous father-son theme, as many of Bauby's memories and visions include his father and his own son, who was with him when the stroke occurred.
Schnabel's adaptation does justice to Bauby's story, and the audience will find themselves mesmerized by his undying spirit and powerful imagination. Thanks to Schnabel's brilliant directing and unconventional cinematography, the viewer will leave with a sense of what it is like to live such a trapped existence, and a new appreciation for the power of the imagination.
Photo: Courtesy of Laron Fomby
