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2008-01-06 - 11:10 p.m.

I've been talking to many people this weekend about The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and don't have too much steam left over to blather on much here, but to sum:

I thought it was a wonderfully rendered film, with stunning visuals that worked perfectly with the story, and a relentless sense of voluptuous beauty. However, I could never warm up to the protagonist. This says as much, if not more, about me than it does about the film.

I am (particularly on Friday evenings, I've noticed) a needy and middle-brow viewer of dramatic films. I require a certain level of identification with the main character, or some sense of moral momentum or emotional growth, in order to lose myself and truly be moved (or "movied," at least).

This film, while gorgeous, features a (real life) protagonist who struck me as an ungrateful, pampered cravat-wearer** both before and after his "cerebral accident." One could argue that there is some redemption or joy or inspiration in his having to learn how to communicate all over again, or in his chagrin at not being a handsome charmer anymore, but that was not enough for me to empathize--it was interesting in a "NOVA--People Recovering From Strokes!" sort of way, but not enough to make me to feel for him, which I think we are meant to do.

Luckily, I also watched The Simpsons Movie this weekend, and that satisfied all my viewing needs. Redemption all over the place, as well as this poignant and perfect line spoken by Homer after he is abandoned by a pack of sled dogs:

"Why does everything I whip leave me?"

This is my new mantra.

**Who knew that the cravat was a Croation creation? A sartorial sensation, sweeping the nation? Thank you, Croatians!

Neither the NYPL nor the BPL has this book, and used copies are going for $25.00, which is my whole entertainment budget for Q1. What to do? What to do?

thoughts? (4 comments so far)

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