THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY

Directed by Julian Schnabel Written by Ronald Harwood Based on a novel by Jean-Dominique Bauby Starring: Mathieu Almaric, Emmanuelle Seigner, Marie-Josee Croze, Max Von Sydow Distributed by Miramax FilmsFilm is released in the U.K. on Feb 29th, 2008. Review by Michael Edwards

rating: 5

THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY could so easily have been a soppy, melancholic look at a rare, tragic illness. Based on the novel by Jean-Dominique Bauby charting his experiences, it describes in detail how, following a stroke, he became completely paralysed except for the movement of his left eye. This rare condition known as 'locked-in syndrome' was a shock to a man who lived a fast-paced lifestyle of excess as editor of Elle in Paris, and his adaptation to life within his immobile body is the focus of this rich tale a man's inner life - the butterfly escaping the diving bell in which he is confined. But it just wasn't. This is a magnificent example of filmic storytelling, moving marvelously between perspectives to cover the experiences of Jean-Domique Bauby (Jean-Do to his friends) from every feasible angle. By doing so director Julien Schnabel engulfs his audience in Jean-Do in the most complete way imaginable. It's a truly unique experience in biographical films and made me wonder how this ever worked in any other medium: a sure sign of a truly great film. The first half is shot first-person from the point of view of Jean-Do: we open with a blurry view that crystallises into a shifting hospital room of contorted shapes and blurred colours. The scene is narrated by Jean-Do's inner voice which at once orientates us in this visual melee and sucks us straight into his world, his confusion, his fear and his frustration. He begins with two operational eyes, but we soon hear that one is in danger of going septic and must be sewn shut - a process we sit through not just with Jean-Do, but as Jean-Do in a daring and highly affecting shot. The second half switches between first and third person shots, making full use of contrast as we hear the playful humour and laughter of his inner voice one minute, and the next cut outside to see his disabled face, immobile but for his darting left eye that flicks back and forth taking in the activity around him. In the vividly coloured and playfully shot scenes of Jean-Do's memories of his life before the stroke, we see the unrivalled power of cinema to depict journies of the mind. Beautiful flickering images of what was are then suddenly shattered as we are jolted back into the reality of his present bedridden state. The hyperreal is also deployed at key moments to great effect, in one random incident the television is left on in Jean-Do's room and he is left in the middle of the night with the piercing monotonous screech of the testcard. We see his eye flickering wildly around the room in an impotent plea to cease the maddening noise before the image cuts to a crumbling iceberg crashing into the sea. This scene of mental destruction will ultimately be reversed in his mental rebirth as the 'butterfly' by the end of the film, where the credits are played over the same crumbling iceberg - but reversed, reforming, becoming whole again. This is just one of many stand-out scenes in this superb film. All of the actors in the film took on their roles with gusto, and the chemistry was amazing considering this is a movie directed by an American with an all-French cast. Of course Mathieu Almaric had a stand-out lead performance as Bauby, but each of the 'angels' around him exuded kindness and emotion. Of particular note was Max Von Sydow who played Jean-Do's elderly father. A housebound but still impressive man, his breakdown over the phone when talking to his son through his speech therapist was a heart-wrenching moment and I was not the only person in the audience to shed a tear. Despite the powerful contrasts and poignant moments in the film, one of its strongest features is that you are not made to pity Bauby. You feel his pain, the stark contrasts between his inner and former lives and physical reality form knots in your stomach, but what underpins all of this is that he was a man who knew life. He had experienced joy, success and love, and through his tragedy he added to these worldly experiences a rich inner life and comes to terms with life and death. Even more than this, the humour brought out in Jean-Do by his tragedy, and the 'angels' who surround and aid him in his incapacitated state cannot fail to bring hope into the hearts of all who watch this film. Its energy, its wry and poignant observations, its inspired camerawork and superlative acting make THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY an instant classic.