E, S, A, R, I, N, T, U, L—L? L. These letters—the French alphabet arranged in frequency of usage order—echo throughout the entirety of the film adaptation of Jean-Dominique Bauby’s memoir “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” (published 1997). For much of his life, Bauby was a prolific writer, rising through the ranks of the cutthroat world of journalism to become Editor-in-Chief of French fashion bible Elle magazine. Bauby was the epitome of a vivacious young professional: a creative force to be reckoned with, an intermittent playboy and a flighty family man. Between hours-long photo shoots and weekend getaways to the countryside with his mistress, Bauby was full of life.
But, in an instant, Bauby’s life changed. A stroke that separated his brain stem from his spinal cord left him completely paralyzed, aside from his left eye. After lying unconscious in a coma for 20 days, Bauby awoke to find his world turned upside down. At first, his doctors at the Naval Hospital in Berck-sur-Mer believed that some level of rehabilitation was a possibility. The staff, however, quickly realized that Bauby’s condition was permanent—he had an extremely rare nervous system disorder called Locked-in syndrome. With the help of speech therapists and other medical personnel, Bauby was able to communicate by blinking his left eyelid in correspondence with the French alphabet arranged in order of frequency of usage. As soon this system was developed, Jean-Do (as his friends affectionately called him) did what came most naturally to him: He began to write.
In his memoir, “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” Bauby exclaims in the chapter “The Wheelchair:” “[M]y roving mind was busy with a thousand projects: a novel, travel, a play, marketing a fruit cocktail of my own invention…” Bauby landed on a novel. One therapist, Claude Mendibil, translated with him three hours a day, seven days a week for two months until the memoir was finished. It’s an eclectic spattering of punchy humor and profound interpersonal reflection, it navigates remorse of past behavior, the complexity of familial relationships (regardless of physical ability), Bauby’s relationship with disability and the annoyances of living in an ill-natured, able-bodied world.
Chapters such as “Through a Glass, Darkly” reflect on Bauby’s guilt from being an always-working, occasionally-absent father. As he describes sitting on the beach with the mother of his children, Céline Desmoulins, he relishes in the monotony of watching his children play on the sandy shores—his daughter performing gymnastics and his son cheerfully engaging him in a game of hangman. Other chapters, like the playful and illustrative “The Sausage,” delve into Bauby’s newfound appreciation for his memory and imagination, which he deems an “inexhaustible reservoir of sensations.” Post-stroke, Bauby was forced to rely on using his mind as a deliberate and vivid form of escapism. Bauby takes readers from the dusty corners of his childhood memories to odd and disjointed dream-sequences from his adult life. Each journey through his mind, however, is jam-packed with thoroughly entrancing imagery.
The film-reel-like nature of Bauby’s memories stretches onto the screen in the movie adaptation of “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” perfectly. Directed by Julian Schnabel in 2007, the film is a visual feast. The memoir, once believed to be nearly impossible to adapt for screens, was visually translated with ease. Part of this may be due to the memoir’s unique approach to plot structure. The bite-sized chapters merely bring readers through Bauby’s mind and day-to-day life rather than construct an overarching plot. Schnabel, who also directed “Basquiat” (1996) and “At Eternity’s Gate” (2018) masterfully depicts the sequence of fluttering memories with a flourish of confidence. The film shifts from hospital scenes, to Bauby’s past work life at Elle, to artistic shots of a diver in a tank suit sinking under blue waves and butterflies’ wings tentatively flitting in the breeze.
One of the most striking cinematographic choices is Schnabel’s point-of-view shots (which he later famously used in “At Eternity’s Gate” to illustrate the perspective of Van Gogh) that further emphasize Bauby’s frustration with his impeded ability to communicate with the rest of the world. Paired with a script by screenplay writer Ronald Harwood (known for his adaptation work for “The Pianist,” 2002), the combination of visuals and dialogue successfully capture Bauby’s wit and extraordinary resilience amidst his social isolation. Moreover, the dialogue is thoroughly grounded in Bauby’s own words, with many of the most memorable lines from the novel transformed into engaging monologues. Each rich scene—from shots of Bauby being hoisted in his wheelchair above a vast sea to flashes of magazines being thrown into a dark abyss—melts together in a natural sequence despite its occasional absurdity.
Beyond the spectacular cinematography, “The Diving Bell” is arguably one of the best contemporary representations of disability in film media. Other mid-2000s movies that feature disability representation, such as “Million Dollar Baby” and “Radio,” fall short, relying on stereotypes and using their protagonists’ disabilities as plot-moving devices that overshadow any accurate representation of the disability experience. In contrast, both Schnabel and Harwood stay true to Bauby’s description of his time in the hospital and the variety of emotions—both positive and negative—he felt during his treatment. Perhaps the only departure from Bauby’s explicit prose is Schnabel’s inventive visual explorations into the depths of Bauby’s memory, constructing flashing scenes of a past-life never to be lived again. But the direct and deliberate adaptation from the memoir, written entirely from Bauby’s perspective, serves as a detailed and realistic portrayal of his life. Ultimately, both the memoir and the film are not centered on Bauby’s disability, nor do they infantilize or overly-heroicize him. The written and visual works simply depict Bauby’s lived experience, innermost thoughts and vivid imagination.
Bauby lived for only two days after the European publication of “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” passing away due to pneumonia that he contracted while in the hospital. Despite his untimely death, the enduring legacy of both the memoir and movie live on in the literary and film worlds.