MUBI

Diangkat dari memoir mantan editor majalah Elle Perancis, Jean-Dominique Bauby berjudul sama, film ini menceritakan kisah Bauby yang tiba-tiba terserang stroke hingga tidak dapat menggerakkan seluruh otot tubuhnya, yang menyebabkan ia hanya dapat berkomunikasi melalui kedipan matanya. Ingin menyerah pada awalnya, Bauby akhirnya bangkit dan melalui stroke yang ia alami, ia melihat kembali ke masa lalunya mengenai hidupnya dan hubungannya dengan keluarganya. Ia bahkan dapat menulis sebuah buku dengan dibantu seorang asisten yang menterjemahkan setiap kedipan mata yang dibuatnya. Extraordinary story! Dan disampaikan dengan cara yang extraordinary juga. Sepanjang cerita, kecuali pada beberapa bagian, kita akan melihat cerita melalui mata Bauby. Suatu hal yang mungkin akan membingungkan beberapa orang. Namun bagi mereka yang tidak menyerah dalam menonton film ini, dan melanjutkannya hingga akhir, maka Le Scaphandre et le Papillon adalah suatu karya yang menyentuh hati.

Rate: 4 / 5

I don’t know if it was intended, but I felt that the first-person sequences — particularly the opening — were a metaphor for the filmgoing audience: sitting in a theatre or on our couches, we watch on passively, trapped in our bodies as events unfold before us which we are unable to control.

As for the film itself, it felt a bit too made-for-tv-movie to me, the type of movie where each scene is built for the sole purpose of making the audience cry (whether those tears are happy or sad). By no means do I hate it for this, though. I just feel it’s average — the type of average, overly-polite movie, with all the rough edges sanded down, that tends to garner ‘universal acclaim’.

The only effective memoirs ever to be translated to screen, and what a bar to set for those who will attempt it in the future. This film is beautiful. I could see how people find the film to be mellowdramatic and pretentious with it’s monologue, if it wasn’t for the fact that the majority of the story is true and the words are honest thoughts shared by a man who finally understood what it meant to live. This film blew my mind, and I found the words to be absolutely haunting, the emotion to be overwhelming, and the visuals to be totally bizarre and spectacular. It’s a about appreciating life, a concept which most of the society has lost grasp of. My favorite film of the last 10 years.

The more and more I watch Schnabel, the more his films look like those of Terry Gilliam; certainly not a bad thing. Without having read the book I almost feel confident in assuming that the film is far more poignant. Even if it’s a great memoir, words cannot possibly capture Bauby’s predicament in the same way. The techniques that Schnabel applies here just seem so appropriate, and this was undoubtedly a bold project to take on. Max Von Sydow’s role was a bit odd, but after working on so many bleak Bergman projects, he’s practically a weathered veteran at this level of dramatic acting.

It really would be insensitive, not to mention a little ignorant to call the film ponderous. I think that Schnabel did the best job that he could of explaining Bauby’s condition well enough, while offering enough time to indulge in the imagination that clearly was his saving grace. As obvious as it may sound, the film does share similarities with Gondry’s the Science of Sleep. Of course Gondry’s film is all about someone who effortlessly blurs the line between reality and dreams, and Bauby’s story is about one who must exercise every ounce of willpower that he has in order to transcend what is unquestionably a cruel reality.

One word to describe this film is “beautiful”. I love the color scheme, the images… everything about this movie is aesthetically pleasing. The story is interesting too, though I wish I had read the book first. Because the film is shot in first-person, the audience can become much more attached with the main character, which is great, because this film evokes a range of emotions and is worth one’s investment in it. Beautiful film.

Jean-Dominique Bauby (Mathieu Amalric, o vilão de QUANTUM OF SOLACE), editor da ELLE francesa, sofre um derrame que o deixa completamente imobilizado da cabeça aos pés, com exceção do olho esquerdo, pelo qual aprende a se comunicar.

Parece um prato cheio para o dramalhão edificante, algo que é contornado pelo talento do roteirista Ronald Harwood (THE PIANIST), do diretor Julian Schnabel e principalmente do fotógrafo Janusz Kaminski em criar situações e formas visuais que escapem das facilidades narrativas comuns ao enredo.

Trata-se de uma história real, relatada no livro homônimo e autobiográfico de Bauby, o qual escreveu no hospital utilizando a linguagem criada por uma de suas fonoaudiólogas (feita no filme por Marie-Josée Croze, de AS INVASÕES BÁRBARAS e MUNIQUE). O roteiro não deixa de lado os eventuais flashbacks, nem mesmo aquele que mostra o momento do derrame, mas se concentra principalmente na tentativa de reconexão de Bauby com o mundo.

O artista plástico tornado cineasta Schnabel mostra em O ESCAFANDRO E A BORBOLETA um grande amadurecimento dramático, comparando com seus filmes anteriores, BASQUIAT e ANTES DO ANOITECER. Schnabel (vencedor da Palma de Melhor Diretor em Cannes) emociona sem descambar para a apelação, no que é ajudado imensamente pela câmera criativa de Kaminski. Fotógrafo polonês promovido a colaborador oficial de Steven Spielberg desde A LISTA DE SCHINDLER, Janusz Kaminski promove, através de ângulos e escolhas visuais inusitadas, a tal reconexão do personagem com o que o cerca, utilizando nada mais do que o olhar. É um trabalho primoroso, que eleva O ESCAFANDRO E A BORBOLETA acima do gênero “doença da semana”, ao qual pertence apenas na premissa.

With all of it’s little imperfections, one can not help but wonder at the stunning feat that Schanbel accomplished putting into film what many considered “an unfilmable book”. The genius use of light, the changes in perspective, the solid first-person acting sequences and the amazing soundtrack set the stage for one of the most unique movies I have ever seen.

I sat in the theater motionless while the credits rolled, trying to understand what I was feeling after witnessing the poignant story of “Jean Do” and his radical change after his “accident”.

And the fact that I feel like this, torn between a broken heart and an absolute delight, is a confirmation of how the biggest journeys can happen anytime, anywhere, for whomever is ready for them. In the case of Jean Do, lying motionless on his bed….and on my case, getting a glimpse of my own by watching this film.

One of the most unique films of 2007, or of any year, telling the remarkable true story of Jean-Dominique Bauby, the young editor of Elle magazine whose massive stroke leaves him trapped inside his body, with only the use of his left eye, for which he blinks in code to a nurse his autobiography. As Bauby, Mathieu Amalric shows tremendous patience and pathos in his post-stroke scenes of immobility, while in flashbacks and dream sequences, especially playing opposite his aged father (the wonderful Max Von Sydow), we see a man whose jet-setting life hampered his relationships but didn’t deter his love for his small children. Moving, expressionistic, and beautifully realized by director Julian Schnabel and master cameraman Janusz Kaminski, with a mise-en-scene that more than often reverts to Bauby’s point of view, trapped in iron but free to imagine great and powerful thoughts.

It is interesting that they managed to make a compelling film about a man so paralyzed he can only communicate by blinking, but this film is incredibly overrated. Unquestionably inventive filmmaking from director Julian Schnabel and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski, but I personally didn’t find the story any more moving than your basic disability drama – with long montages of pretentious monologues in place of more conventional heartstring-tugging. An interesting film, but not much more.

The tale of Jean-Dominique Bauby and his harrowing ordeal of being locked-in his own body after a debilitating stroke is devastating. I can’t wait to finally start reading it—it’s a bit down the queue, but has gone up a few spots after seeing the film—however, after watching the film version, I can’t help but commend director Julian Schnabel. The man is the go to guy when it comes to artistic biopics. From the magnificent portrayal of Jean-Michel Basquiat in his first foray with the media (much help from the brilliant Jeffrey Wright) and the follow-up with Javier Bardem’s Oscar-nominated performance in Before Night Falls (almost unheard of for a foreign film), the true star with The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is not necessarily lead actor Mathieu Amalric, (who is fantastic), but instead the camera itself. About three-quarters of this film is told from the vantage point of Bauby’s one working eyeball, and it is a glorious view using gorgeously abstract framing to help tell the story that went on inside his working mind, almost hidden forever behind his limp, immovable body.

From the first moments of the movie, we are placed inside Bauby’s head as he awakens from a three-week coma. All the blurs from inactivity, strong light, and moist tears prohibit our own clear view of the proceedings. What he sees is what we see. Although one could call it a gimmick, it is the only way this story could have been told. His memoirs are about his imagination, his memories, and his thoughts while trapped in his own mind, it is not about the people around him, watching this broken man with pity and sadness. Instead of a eulogy full of sorrow, Schnabel gives us a celebration of a life; a man who realized all the mistakes he had made and would never be able to reconcile, trying to use words to say he was sorry and that he loved everyone close to him, no matter what horrible things he did otherwise. We don’t need to see his still, distorted face because we as an audience are not supposed to feel bad for him either. We have to hear his snide remarks to himself and bitterness at the start in order to really understand his mindframe and evolution into the man that finally decided to do something other than wish for the end. That was a welcome surprise here, the subtle humor brought some good laughs to help break up the solemn tone and subject matter.

Stylistically speaking, the film is profound. It is a completely visual experience, (and don’t be worried that reading subtitles will detract from looking at the scenery, it is all up there to be seen as one), with many instances that stick with you afterwards. The final sequence is probably my favorite as the faces of all his friends that came to visit and/or helped him with his recovery fade in and out, melting into each other as well as the stark whiteout caused by the bright light coming in behind them. Schnabel also does the right thing when it comes to showing the process that went into allowing this man to speak with his eye. At first we must go letter by letter with the characters learning the process and honing it to perfection, but as the film goes on, we are only told the first letter while a montage continues for the rest as the complete sentences are read back to us. It resembles a time-lapse moment with faint cuts and disjointed speech in the background and works flawlessly to help alleviate any boredom that might set in having to see the process over and over again. With that said, though, the film’s main flaw still ends up being its length. The movie feels a lot longer than it is, appearing to have multiple concluding moments only to cut back to a new sequence. While I can think of nothing that would have been ok to excise from the rest, I did feel a tad overwhelmed at times as the story kept on going.

Those lulls have everything to do with the problematic biopic necessity of showing too much to try and encapsulate a life in two hours and nothing to do with the acting whatsoever. Every performance is quite stunning. Amalric is great, although not necessarily seen on screen very often as we mostly just get to hear his voice reacting to what we are seeing. However, the moments when we see his face, in paralysis, fighting back tears, you can’t deny the performance’s success. Both women involved really shine also, full of emotion and compassion for this man that may or may not give it back. His speech therapist Henriette is superbly played by Marie-Josée Croze and the mother of his children Céline by Emmanuelle Seigner. It is through their actions and reactions that we are shown the true weight of the situation with Bauby. When Seigner has to be in the room with her love’s mistress on the phone, you can’t help but feel the pain the words spoken inflict on her. The real surprise, though, is the powerful small role of Bauby’s father played by Max von Sydow. Pushing 80 years old, Sydow shows he still has the goods to carry a scene.

While not necessarily the masterpiece I had anticipated it to be, there are few complaints to be had with this biography of a giant of a man reduced to the memories still intact in his mind. You could take any single frame from the film and create a piece of art with it, it is that beautiful to behold. Schnabel has definitely done something unique with this adaptation and it deserves all the accolades it receives. It’s just too bad that it missed out on getting a Foreign-Language film Oscar; they need to change that rule and not allow just one film per country to be entered in the race.