The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (Julian Schnabel, 2007) - What Life?

[E Black]

“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” directed by Julian Schnabel, is a very intimate look into the mind of Jean-Dominique Bauby, former editor of ELLE magazine, as told in his memoir of the same name. Told almost entirely in first person, we see what Bauby sees when he is in the hospital and thus we are given an extroardinary view into what it is like to suffer from his “locked-in syndrome.” We hear what he thinks, yet what he can’t express due to his inability to speak. We experience his frustration along with him, as well as his depression and, at times, his will to die. What is so remarkable about this adaptation is its lifelike qualities: the motions; the sounds; the feelings. We feel as if we are inside his body, hearing and experiencing his diagnosis, falling utterly into the state of depression, realizing his future.

The overwhelming theme is helplessness, the feeling of being trapped, which is brought up once and again when he dreams, the points at which we see the diving bell, his coccoon like state of perpetual uncontrol. In the opening sequences, he asks what kind of life he has, as if one can even call what he has life. He cannot move, except for blinking and moving his eyes. He cannot speak, except for later when he learns to groan. His only form of communication, once he becomes more open and used to it, takes minutes just to complete one word. He has to come to grips with the fact that he may never speak to his wife again, to his son or daughters again, to his father again. One might ask what he did to deserve this, a question that doesn’t seem to come to his mind throughout the film but its answer is somewhat revealed near the end.

What I liked most about the film was its structure. Even though we begin in the “now,” just after his stroke, we don’t learn the context of his stroke until moments before the end of the film. It adds so much intensity and suspense once we find out how it happened, and its importance could be found in that it’s the last time he talked to his son, yet it’s also the last time he spoke to anybody. Structure-wise, the film employed many techniques I find intriguing, the use of flashback of course, but also his dreams, his visions, etc. We meet his close relatives and loved ones, slowly building up his character, while we only see his work once, which goes to tell me that he isn’t defined by his job but more by his relations, by his family, etc.

But to top it off, the tragedy of the film is what makes it for me, in that its ending, while obviously based on true events that one cannot really change for theater, leaves no hope or room for it. It ends realistically, showing that bad things happen with almost no reason or fault to good (or at least not horrible) people. And that the director was able to portray this quality with originality and creativity was a real achievement, in my mind.

[Lsogn]

Shifting from a subjective perspective to an objective one is an important turning point in the film, “The Diving Bell and The Butterfly,” and it effectively underscores Jean-Dominique’s transitions in healing and acceptance. As you point out, the creative use of flashbacks allows the story to unfold as if the viewers are actively involved in his struggle--recovering not only the details of the accident, but also the memories of significant relationships that define his former life with: his father, wife, lovers, children and friends.

This delay contributes to the building of dramatic tension. Also, by developing the film in this way, the emphasis is more on the “now” in Jean-Do’s life. The precise details of the sequence of events of the moment marking the time when a dangerous blood clot anchored in his brain stem are obscured. There is no turning back from a trauma with the extraordinary magnitude he experienced. Yes, Jean-Do lives--but he faces a future never anticipated. Like boats lost at sea, he is in uncharted territory.

The film is designed for the audience to learn, at the same time as Jean-Do, that in the not so distant past he would have most likely died from a cerebrovascular event impacting his brainstem with such severity. Improvements in medical technology allow him to be one of the rare cases of “Locked In Syndrome.” He also acknowledges that this is, most likely, of little comfort to Jean-Do.

Although his life as he knew it is over for Jean-Do, he realizes the two things that help him move beyond the diving bell he retreats to when gripped by despair: his memories and his imagination. “They’re the only way I can escape my diving bell,” he says. As he learns to live outside the numbing security of the metal encasement of his diving bell, he breaks free and adopts the form of a butterfly emerging from a cocoon.

This film is developed for viewers to follow this flight, sharing the point of view of the butterfly flying at ground level through a field of wildflowers. It is especially poignant, since the audience already shared an intensely subjective reality with Jean-Do’s early experiences as a patient when, for example, his right eye is occluded and sewn shut. His vision became the same as the viewers who were able to see and experience the black stitches attaching his eyelids forever.

It is curious that in the seven or so episodes when Jean-Do escapes to his diving bell, that the point of view is always objective, and that of an outsider looking in. Viewers share so much of his subjective reality in this film as a patient--and even a butterfly. But why not a single sequence of shots taking the viewer inside the diving bell? Why do we never experience what it means to gaze at the vastness of the surrounding sea? Perhaps this film is saying that some things--like numbing despair--remain private and remote. We can witness and come very close to knowing what it means, but not quite.

[A. Bengel]

You raise an interesting point. Of what value is Jean-Do’s life now? Without the ability to speak except very, very slowly, his life seems to have fallen into a black hole with no possibilities in sight. At one point midway through the film, Jean-Do actually tells his therapist that he wants to die.
I believe that Bauby finds meaning in his newfound existence in three ways, and the film is arguing the value of each of these things: he dreams of a life outside of his current one and imagines a wonderful future, he writes a book, and he maintains ties with people.

Humans are social creatures. The most stressing circumstances imaginable are when someone’s abilities to communicate are limited. That is precisely what makes Bauby so depressed, and his situation seem so bleak. His only means of communication is frustrating and slow, and whenever telephone conversation goes on, he needs a medium. That is the value of his book. The reason that writing a novel of his experiences helps him get through each day is (in addition to being something to do) because it allows him to explain to others what he is going through. And in being able to have your pain reciprocated by others, it makes the hardship more bearable.

The same type of value comes from his social connections. Throughout the film, he is visited repeatedly by several people, and these people become the most valuable in his life. His speech therapist, the medium through which he writes his novel, and the mother of his children come to be the best things he has going for him. Bauby explains in his narrative that he hates Sunday because there are no visitors. It is on days like this, when he must rely on himself for entertainment, that he must use his imagination.

When Bauby dreams, he dreams only of social interactions. He doesn’t just dream of having a real dinner, but of having one with a date. This further underlines the value the film suggests in having people around who care about you, and I feel that this is the most important aspect of “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.”

[kwallace]

Does the film suggest that the people around must be of a religious heritage? Celeste, Marie, Ines and even his children would fit handsomely in this category of religious lineage. Albeit, Ines was much more in the peripheral than his immediate family. But I believe the film might have implications that faith in divinity can play a large role in perception of oneself. I mean this in the sense that Jean Do sees these "miracles" only after agents of faith have impressed upon his belief system. Jean Do's impression of his self is that he is a "sinner and a hypocrite" when it comes to religion, especially in traveling to Lourdes and drinking the holy water with the madonna. It doesn't fit into his perceptions of identity and thus what happens? Since he doesn't believe in the divine he has a cerebrovascular accident and ends up stifled in paralysis. Perhaps it was a miracle that Jean Do had the accident, as it allowed him to find his identity as a "Butterfly". Or perhaps his accident is just God's will wrath. This is just me spit ballin here.