Le scaphandre et le papillon
Jan. 9th, 2011 01:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
venetia_sassyI just watched a terrifying, fascinating, amazing film.
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, based on the memoir of the same name.
You see a man wake in a hospital room. He doesn't know what has happened to him and since you see everything from his perspective, you don't know either. He learns that he has had a severe stroke and he now has locked-in syndrome.
After the first first twenty minutes, I wasn't sure I wanted to keep watching, it was so fucking scary, imagining what it would be like to wake up like that, and it almost felt ... voyeuristic.
But it wasn't gratuitous or sentimental and I kept watching. I'm glad I did.
I've seen a few tv episodes of various shows that talked about locked-in syndrome but the very big difference here was that the film was from the perspective of the locked-in person. First the first third or so of the film, you only see what Jean-Do sees. The weird perspective from only being able to see with one eye (the scene where his eyelid is stitched shut nearly had me turning off the tv), the frustration of feeling like he's talking but no one can hear what he's saying, the painstaking method of communication through blinks. Slowly the perspective widens and you see Jean-Do but the focus remains on him. Not those around him. You see a few flashbacks of his life before, you see him communicating or not with his friends, children, caretakers, doctors. You see who he was and who he's become. And the voiceover makes it very clear that it's only his body that doesn't work. His mind is just fine.
There's a very powerful scene fairly early in the film in which he's starting to communicate with his speech therapist and he tells her he wants to die. And she's hurt and angry since she and so many others are trying to help him live. And yes, it was a shitty thing for him to say to her ... but it wasn't a surprise that he would feel that way. What he experiences is terrifying. And the film shows the helplessness, the frustration, the dependence, the humiliation of being forced to rely on others, but it also shows the love and caring of many people. Not saints. No one involved is a saint and no one is really a villain.
It was touching and frightening and beautiful. I think I'll hear those soft voices reciting the special arrangement alphabet in my dreams tonight. That was the true soundtrack of the film.
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, based on the memoir of the same name.
You see a man wake in a hospital room. He doesn't know what has happened to him and since you see everything from his perspective, you don't know either. He learns that he has had a severe stroke and he now has locked-in syndrome.
After the first first twenty minutes, I wasn't sure I wanted to keep watching, it was so fucking scary, imagining what it would be like to wake up like that, and it almost felt ... voyeuristic.
But it wasn't gratuitous or sentimental and I kept watching. I'm glad I did.
I've seen a few tv episodes of various shows that talked about locked-in syndrome but the very big difference here was that the film was from the perspective of the locked-in person. First the first third or so of the film, you only see what Jean-Do sees. The weird perspective from only being able to see with one eye (the scene where his eyelid is stitched shut nearly had me turning off the tv), the frustration of feeling like he's talking but no one can hear what he's saying, the painstaking method of communication through blinks. Slowly the perspective widens and you see Jean-Do but the focus remains on him. Not those around him. You see a few flashbacks of his life before, you see him communicating or not with his friends, children, caretakers, doctors. You see who he was and who he's become. And the voiceover makes it very clear that it's only his body that doesn't work. His mind is just fine.
There's a very powerful scene fairly early in the film in which he's starting to communicate with his speech therapist and he tells her he wants to die. And she's hurt and angry since she and so many others are trying to help him live. And yes, it was a shitty thing for him to say to her ... but it wasn't a surprise that he would feel that way. What he experiences is terrifying. And the film shows the helplessness, the frustration, the dependence, the humiliation of being forced to rely on others, but it also shows the love and caring of many people. Not saints. No one involved is a saint and no one is really a villain.
It was touching and frightening and beautiful. I think I'll hear those soft voices reciting the special arrangement alphabet in my dreams tonight. That was the true soundtrack of the film.
