The Diving Bell and the Butterfly tells of the triumph of human will by Jean-Dominique Bauby, a man whose mind is locked in to a body that will not work. The story is a vehicle to consider some of the important issues of what makes life worth living. At a recent press day for the film, some of those involved in the film shared a bit of what it meant to them.

Marie-Josée Croze, who played one of the therapists helping Bauby, reflects:

The film is showing us how we have to deal with suffering and with bad things happening to us. We’re strong people. This film shows us the dignity, and the courage, and the patience. We don’t decide for so many things. The only thing we can decide is the way we handle situations and the way we see situations. This is a hopeful film; it’s all about hope and life.

Mathieu Amalric discovered some important lessons in the process of portraying Bauby in the film:

I think I learned more about life than about death. Just two very simple things that we forget all the time is that it’s quite incredible that you think you want to move your hand and the hand moves. It is incredible. It’s a miracle. So now at the start of each day, for three minutes each day, I remember that, because you forget that. And then the speed of the brain. That with the head you can go wherever you want. Not to forget that also.

In fact, it’s more about the present, just being here—just that—but in a joyful way. In fact, we were never in grief; we didn’t have a sense of pity, because we were shooting in the real hospital, and all around us there were people and kids whose legs didn’t work. There was a locked-in syndrome that only had this finger that worked. It became completely normal.

Later in the interview, talking about shooting the flashback scenes into Bauby’s earlier life, he says:

What I tried to do . . . is sort of forget what we just did and not try to give a sort of importance to those moments of life, because that’s what it’s about. You never really know when you live an important moment.

In the press notes, director Julian Schnabel writes, “I wanted this film to be a tool, like [Bauby’s] book, a self-help device that can help you handle your own death.” I asked if the film had been that for him.

Definitely. Absolutely. My father was terrified of death when he died at 92. When he died I went into his room and his eyes were kind of going like this [fluttering] and bile was coming out of his mouth. I tried to actually show what my dad was seeing, not what I was seeing while I looked at him. And I think we did that. When his POV stops, then his life is over, like our consciousness. All of a sudden the objective comes into play and our subjectivity is gone. But I like the idea that the glaciers go back into their place and he becomes part of everything. I guess that I’ve turned into a Buddhist somehow making this movie.

When asked if he will be afraid of death, he continued:

I’m much less scared of it now. The more you see this movie, the less afraid you get. You should try it. Watch it like twenty times and call me back.

I’d take a nap with my father every afternoon. He’s lying there; I’d have my arm around him . . . . Now he’s not there, and I take a nap with my son and I think, “Hey, have I got one foot on a roller skate and the other on a banana peel?” I’m not worried about that.