The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

I recently saw The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which was based on the memoir of Jean-Dominique Bauby of the same title.

First, if I have to hear another male reviewer remark on the copious female beauty in the movie I will just throw up. Yes, yes, I get it. It’s so French! Sexy French women who are mothers! Gorgeous speech therapists who could seduce you by reciting the alphabet! His beautiful impetuous much younger mistress! He was the editor of Elle! FRENCH Elle! Second, am I the only one who was reminded of Roman Polanski? Between Mathieu Amalric’s physical likeness, Polanski’s real-life wife (Emmanuelle Seigner) playing the devoted ex and mother of his children, both men’s reputations as playboys, and both infamously struck with life-changing tragedy, I couldn’t help but think the resemblance was on purpose. Third, does Julian Schnabel really need to wear those yellow-lensed glasses? No wonder Sean Young heckled him, drunk or not. I really can’t think how it improves his eyesight or blocks out dangerous UV rays (or even mild sunlight, for that matter). Which means, it’s a fashion choice. To which I ask, isn’t fashion supposed to be flattering? And finally, this movie is great.

The film opens from Bauby’s point of view as he awakens from a coma due to a massive stroke and discovers he is paralyzed entirely except for his left eye. This POV adeptly conveys the confinement of his paralysis and the resulting maddening frustration of his inability to communicate. In fact the expression of this stifling interior life was so effective, I nearly started to feel the need to claw out of my seat in the movie theater. Mercifully, the film moves out of this angle, revealing Bauby in his current “locked-in” state as well memories of his life before his stroke and flights of his imagination. The film has humor despite its protagonist’s situation and you can’t help but feel the triumph of a man who blinks out his memoir. The movie avoids a maudlin air by balancing his achievements with seemingly benign, everyday events that evince the exasperation of his incarceration. It also eludes deifying him, particularly in a painful scene where his devoted ex is translating his end of a phone conversation with his mistress.

Overall, I give it a B+. You won’t regret spending movie theater dollars on it and it’s worth seeing on the big screen. The cinematography is fantastic, Mathieu Amalric is great, and the overall direction is inspired.

Anybody else see it? Would love to hear any other opinions--