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Julian Schnabel, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
02/20/2008 It’s something when a film is able to grab hold and speak to you in such a profoundly, deeply moving way, it resides in your memory for days or weeks (or even months) on end. It’s even more of an accomplishment when it is able to leave such an impression on you when it is in another language. I was fortunate enough to see The Diving Bell and the Butterfly at this past year’s Cannes Film Festival, and I have been unable to shake off its lasting effect ever since. The story follows Jean-Dominique Bauby (perfectly played by Mathieu Amalric), a top editor at Elle magazine, whose career is cut short when he suffers a massive stroke and discovers he has a rare condition known as “locked-in syndrome.” His body is entirely paralyzed, except for his left eye. Instantly, we are drawn into the story, not just because we feel for Bauby, but because we are placed in his same position for the first part of the film. Director Julian Schnabel’s decision to film from Bauby’s point of view proves to have been an excellent one, allowing the audience a brief glimpse into the mental state of someone in such a condition. For a while, he seems like your average hospitalized patient, responding to doctors who inquire about his state of being. It’s only after the surgeons indicate that Bauby is unable to speak that we discover our protagonist has only communicated thoughts in his head. Credit should also be attributed to director of photography Janusz Kaminski. Whether he blurs the camera to show Bauby’s point of view after initially waking or to indicate tears filling his eyes, or he has the camera act as an eye itself by blinking when the protagonist blinks, Kaminski's photographic innovations make the impact of what has happened seem that much more real, and that much easier to understand. The supporting turns from other actors involved are top notch as well. Playing Bauby’s primary nurse, Marie-Josee Croze (who, along with Amalric, Kaminski and producer Kathleen Kennedy, makes the fourth person to appear here from Munich), is truly believable in her attempts to restore hope in Bauby, even if he doesn’t see any silver lining at first. In a tiny role as Bauby’s father, Max von Sydow turns in what I believe may be the best cinematic supporting performance by an actor who commands no more than five minutes of screen time. It truly puts the adage “there are no small parts, only small actors” to the test. His work here is so genuinely endearing and honest and, ultimately, heartbreaking, it is hard to imagine another performance in recent memory that conveyed so much while the actor said so little. Now why all of this may appear to paint the film as a gorgeous yet relatively depressing movie, don’t be fooled. There is more to it than meets the eye (no pun intended). Aside from the fact that we are initially able to see the world from the protagonist’s point of view, another reason we align ourselves with Bauby so easily is because of his ability to laugh, often times at himself. For one scene in particular, repairmen come into Bauby’s room, where one of the men makes an off-color joke regarding Bauby’s vegetative state. His therapist finds the joke insensitive, but Bauby laughs in his head, accusing the nurse of being humorless. His easiness assures us things are not as bleak as they seem, and whenever we can, we laugh along with him. Moments like this are, of course, a testament to the actors involved, but it is the screenplay that ultimately deserves a lot of the credit. And it’s no wonder. The script was written by Ronald Harwood, the Oscar-winning screenwriter for Roman Polanski’s Holocaust drama, The Pianist. Clearly, he hasn’t lost any of that creative magic. Appropriately, the last thing that should be praised about the film is what it accomplishes in the end. While things appear gloomy from the onset, hope and perseverance win out against depression and failure. Armed only with his single eye and vivid imagination, Bauby performs a feat most could probably never imagine: he blinks out an entire novel. The next time you’re writing a paper and you think your finger cramp is killing you, think about what this guy did, and I bet it won’t seem as detrimental as it did before. Despite what the results are this upcoming Sunday night for the Academy Awards, whether No Country for Old Men walks off with the big trophy prize, or whether Juno scores a Crash-like upset, the real best film of the year 2007 is The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I defy you to find a more visually arresting film this year (or any year, for that matter) that engages you, moves you, humors you and, ultimately, leaves you feeling hopeful about what you can accomplish with limited resources the way this film does. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is playing at Athens Cine February 22-26. Comments [post a comment]
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