I’m Not There and The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (Le scaphandre et le papillon)
Sunday, April 6th, 2008 8:50 pm—FilmI’m Not There (USA/Germany 2007, Biography/Drama/Music), Writers: Todd Haynes and Oren Moverman; Director: Todd Haynes
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly(France 2007, Biography/Drama), Writer: Ronald Harwood; Director: Julian Schnabel
There’s not a whole lot for me to say about I’m Not There, given that I don’t have intimate knowledge of Bob Dylan’s life—his persona, his legend, his story. I enjoyed the film, but was left guessing much of the time.
Writer/director Todd Haynes, clearly an ardent Dylan fan, used six actors to depict Dylan’s many faces (or his “many lives,” as the opening credits indicate). One of them is, famously, played by a woman (Cate Blanchett). Another is played by a young black boy (Ben Whishaw). Still another embodies Dylan as Billy the Kid (Richard Gere). None are named Bob Dylan. They aren’t even all musicians.
Because we don’t spend much time with any of the characters, the film loses a bit of its impact. The story depicting Dylan—lover and celebrity in the form of film star Robbie Clark (Heath Ledger)—and his true love Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) isn’t as moving it could be. Control (see December 1, 2007 post) does a much better job of showing a passionate, tumultuous artist torn between his wife and children, and his mistress. But it’s still fun. When Robbie and Claire first get together to the tune of Dylan’s I Want You, the film captures a peek into a playful, joyful snippet from his life (or at least Haynes’ take on it).
Overall, I’m Not There is definitely worth seeing. It takes an interesting approach and, not surprisingly, features a great soundtrack. And Blanchett is as incredible as they say. But if you’re not a Dylan expert, you won’t get as much out of the film as I imagine Haynes intended.
Here’s a more detailed review by someone who seems to know a lot more about Dylan than I do.
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is based on the autobiography of Elle France editor Jean-Dominique Bauby (Mathieu Amalric), who suffered a stroke at the age of 43 and was left paralyzed everywhere except his left eye.
As imagined by Julian Schnabel—a prominent American painter and Academy-Award nominated filmmaker—Bauby’s world evolves from one seen through a tiny crack in the wall, to one full of wonder, pleasure and beauty, a world of infinite scope where anything is possible.
The film’s title refers to Bauby’s discordant outlooks on the world. At first, through narration that represents his thoughts, Bauby likens his situation to being trapped in a diving bell. But before long, he imagines that he is a butterfly, able to escape the confines of his cocoon and soar across the world, back and forth through time, from reality to fantasy and back again.
The transition occurs when Bauby remarkably announces that: “I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren’t paralyzed: my imagination and my memory.” From then on, we are treated to more of the world, as others see it and, more importantly, as Bauby imagines it.
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is gorgeously filmed by acclaimed cinematographer Janusz Kaminski (who shot most of Steven Spielberg’s movies). The lighting; the hazy, surreal, tones; the subtle and frequent focus shifts… Kaminski does a phenomenal job of pulling the viewer into Bauby’s world.
Through his memory and fantasies, we learn of Bauby’s passions, regrets, mistakes and flaws. We see his devoted but estranged wife by his bedside, reading to him, sharing her life with him still, while the woman he left her for is too childish and self-absorbed to visit him.
We also get a strong sense of his personality. He was a funny man. When a telephone repairman jokes about Bauby being a heavy breather, the speech pathologist, Henriette, (played by wonderful Québec actor Marie-Josée Croze) is deeply offended and tells the repairman off. But we hear Bauby’s internal laughter, and his thoughts: “Henri, you have no sense of humour.”
I really loved this film. Visually, it’s a work of art. Spiritually, it’s touching, moving, upsetting. It makes you appreciate the potential we have in our own lives, seeing what Bauby was capable of with only his left eye and his mind’s eye. It also sheds light on people’s tremendous capacity for love and forgiveness.
The incredible part is that this is a true story. After learning to communicate by blinking, the real-life Bauby ultimately decides to “write” his memoirs with the help of an unfathomably patient transcriptionist. Slowly, painstakingly, he recounts his story in detail—one letter, one blink, one wing beat at a time.