Data Paralysis

On Saturday evening I watched The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, an acclaimed film about Jean-Dominique Bauby, the editor-in-chief of Elle Magazine whose sudden cerebro-vascular accident left him in a state of head-to-toe paralysis (referred to as “locked-in” syndrome). Bauby gradually learned to communicate using his left eyelid, the only part of his body over which he had any control. Eventually, using a communication code devised by his therapist, he was able to write a memoir of his struggle and triumph.

What makes the film uniquely fulfilling is its utter lack of sentimentality and its stirring beauty. Diving Bell was directed by Julian Schnabel who, throughout the 1980s, developed a neo-expressionist form of industrial art that alternates between the intimate and the grand, often within the same piece. He has stunningly transitioned this technique to Diving Bell. The early scenes are steadfastly shot from Bauby’s point-of-view. Only when he resolves to “release his mind” is the camera released, tracking over fields, meadows and food. More than anything, the film is a triumph of directorial vision.

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This all serves as background to the decidedly negative experience I had after returning the film. You see, I received Diving Bell through Blockbuster’s online membership. Their Web site, in its infinite wisdom, gave me three commensurate recommendations: Awakenings, Whose Life Is It Anyway? and The Elephant Man.

Great. So now I’m pegged as the paralysis/deformity movie lover.

In fact, Penny Marshal’s Awakenings is everything that Diving Bell isn’t, and I mean that in the most disparaging way. Robin Williams is in full “look-at-me-I’m-a-cuddly-bear” form. The score was written not in notes, but in dollops of syrup. And the “meaning” (See? We ALL need to be awakened from our daily stupor!) is an affront. Whose Life Is It Anyway? is redeemed by Richard Dreyfuss’s smart performance (the film was made about 10 years before he turned into a schticky caricature), but was directed with all the visual richness of an episode of General Hospital. David Lynch’s The Elephant Man has style to burn, but is a ready-for-prime-time version of his earlier Eraserhead.

Would it not make infinitely more sense to recommend other films directed by Schnabel, or, at least, directors of his ilk who tried their hand at making films in a foreign country? What about other films that shared the screenwriter? No, the fatheads who devised Blockbuster’s business rules have determined the single criterion by which I will judge a movie: level of infirmity.

The final insult occurred when I clicked “Recommendations” in their Web site’s main navigation. It led me to a page with 15 “we think you’ll like these” titles. They include The Chronicles of Narnia, which features a lion as Jesus Christ; The Green Mile, which features a black inmate as Jesus Christ; and Pay It Forward, which features Haley Joel Osment as Jesus Christ.

Hmmm...