The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or His own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed,
And post o’er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.

Those are John Milton’s words, written soon after he lost his sight. Later he would write Paradise Lost, one of the greatest works of literature ever written in English. Squint a little, and they also could be the words of Jean-Dominique Baubie, who at the age of 44 had a massive stroke. He woke from a coma only able to blink, and managed to write his autobiography via blinks before he died two years later from peumonia.

Baubie might get shifty hearing Milton’s lines about serving his Maker, but his desire to present a true account is the same. “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” directed by Julian Schnabel, is that the movie made from that account. Baubie has what is called medically, “locked-in condition;” Schnabel clearly sees “locked in” as the human condition. There are two instances in the movie in which people tell Baubie his state is not that different from their own, and while that seems like a clumsy and maudlin way to try and make a paralyzed guy not feel so bad, both episodes are filmed in such a way that you take them seriously, and consider the parallels. To live locked in is an act of defiance; living may be miserable but dying is letting the other guy win. Whether that other guy is God, the Devil, or your own body, or your Lebanese captor perhaps depends more on your perspective than your circumstances.

Almost the entire first half of the movie is filmed directly from Baubie’s perspective, including his blurry sight, lack of peripheral vision, and every single person’s annoying knack of getting right up in his face to talk to him. (More annoying are the folks who pace in front of him, passing in and out of his field of vision, or, worst of all, the janitor who turns off the soccer game on the TV in front of him.) It’s amazing how well this works on screen; for a few moments I was lost musing about just how watching a movie is like being paralyzed with only one eye open. You see what you are shown; you can’t look away or change the view, even if you’re pretty sure the real action is going on somewhere else.

[YouTube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZqbZ8WHujY]

Jean-Dominique (Jean-Do for short) learns to communicate primarily through the incredible patience of a therapist and his wife. They recite the alphabet for him and he blinks when they say the letter he wants. “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” is French, and it’s a little disconcerting to watch this process in the subtitles; naturally, the letters he chooses don’t add up to the word that appears on the screen. More disconcerting are the things he chooses to say. It turns out Jean-Do has a poet’s soul; his prose is lyrical, image-rich, and startlingly fresh. I guess when it takes half an hour to write a line, you choose your words pretty carefully. Milton knew about that.

“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” might sound either crushingly boring (a protagonist who can do no more than blink? Really?) or like Hallmark material (O, the triumph of the human spirit!) It’s neither. Though he looks a bit like him, Jean-Do is no Christopher Reeve. There is ample reason to think he’s a real ass, both before and after the stroke. But there is also ample evidence that he took care of his father, loved his kids, and was pretty confused about things like “happiness” or “fulfillment.” Like him or hate him, you can’t help but admire his defiant determination to do the impossible under impossible conditions. I can’t say that I found his story inspiring, but I certainly marveled at the incredible stubbornness of the human spirit, and at the courage of Jean-Dominique Baubie in his attempt to tell a true account.

Recommended

• if you like moving, character-driven movies about the incredible stubbornness of the human spirit, and don’t mind subtitles.
• if you’ve ever spent an extended period of time in a hospital. “Bucket List” this ain’t.

Not Recommended

• if you can’t imagine spending two hours with a hero that can hardly blink.
• if you expect movies about “the human spirit” to have big, brightly colored morals and teary happy endings.