I won't pretend I'd ever heard Jean-Dominique Bauby's name before today, when I watched the movie based on the autobiography he blink-dictated after suffering a stroke. When I popped in the DVD this afternoon during Gabriel's (blessedly long) nap, I expected two things: to read the movie (subtitled French), and to feel a triumph of the human spirit by its end. I mean, it is a movie about a man who dictated his autobiography by blinking. Doesn't your spirit soar just reading that? I know.
However, the movie left me feeling kind of deflated. From the movie's portrayal, Bauby didn't seem to have been the nicest person either before or after his stroke. He clearly loved his children. Also, he clearly didn't have a special place in his heart for their mother (which makes me wonde why he would have fathered her children...). I thought the whole thing was rather tragic.
There has to be a certain stark clarity that comes with facing one's mortality. One must certainly examine oneself and one's surroundings with newly opened eyes. I guess I prefer to think that such examination brings about honest repentance rather than honestly dictating to one's baby mama that each day one waits for another - while said baby mama translates, and cries.
I guess I thought the end of one's life would bring more compassion? But, honestly, who can criticize how another person chooses to live in such a hugely altered state? How can I say Bauby should not have blinked that message to his former lover?
Watch The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, peeps. Maybe read it too. Hollatme when you do.
Q out.
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