'The Diving Bell and the Butterfly' on 'the Vivid Memory of Tastes and Smells'
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is the film adaptation by Julian Schnabel of the namesake memoir by Jean-Dominique Bauby, former editor of the French Elle. (The film has been winning awards left and right, but please note that the overly sentimental trailer somewhat misrepresents the film.)
After suffering a massive stroke in 1995 leaving Bauby completely paralyzed with a condition called "locked-in syndrome," he writes the entire book by blinking his left eyelid.
To escape what he calls his "diving bell," he writes: "... [M]y mind takes flight like a butterfly. There is so much to do. You can wander off in space or in time, set out for Tierra del Fuego or for King Midas's court." Bauby, the gourmand, in his paralysis, daydreams of decadent, indulgent meals:
By means of tube threaded into my stomach, two or three bags of a brownish fluid provide my daily caloric needs. For pleasure, I have to turn to the vivid memory of tastes and smells, an inexhaustible reservoir of sensations. Once, I was a master at recycling leftovers. Now I cultivate the art of simmering memories. You can sit down to a meal at any hour, with no fuss or ceremony. If it's a restaurant, no need to call ahead. If I do the cooking, it is always a success. The boeuf bourguignon is tender, the boeuf en gelee is translucent, the apricot pie possesses just the requisite tartness. Depending on my mood, I treat myself to a dozen snails, a plate of Alsatian sausage with sauerkraut, and a bottle of late-vintage golden Gewürztraminer; or else I savor a simple soft-boiled egg with fingers of toast and lightly salted butter. What a banquet!...
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3 Comments:
WHOA.
RichardCrystal at 11:30AM on 01/04/08
Love this post! Makes me want to read the book, see the movie , and daydream about past perfect meals. Amazing.Thanks!
maxpickles at 11:51AM on 01/04/08
Julian Schnabel is startlingly prolific. He's getting a lot of press lately, too - he was recently in an issue of one of the top fashion mags.
I remember when he first came to NY, pre-lionization. The wiki article mentions Max's Kansas City as one of his hangouts (yeah, those roasted chick-peas were great there, too!) but didn't mention Barnabus Rex on Duane Street. Now there was an artist's bar. Beer for sixty cents, a pool table that took up the room, disgusting bathrooms, and three feet to dance in with a jukebox which interspersed playing King Pleasure scat-singing ("when you see danger facing you, little boy don't get sad . . .") and The Rolling Stones.
The best burgers the world had to offer were made upstairs (illegally) in a little funky room on a plug-in griddle at 2:30 AM once or twice a week by Peter the sweetest guy on earth who later overdosed before the age of thirty.
Seeing the photo of Schnabel in the mag (he looks like a lion, too) reminded me of that the other day.
I daresay the flick is excellent. Bauby by Schabel? Absolutely. I'll take it.
Thanks for the heads-up, raphael.
Karen Resta at 2:07PM on 01/04/08