Showing posts with label Perfect Sense; The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Perfect Sense; The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Show all posts

Monday, 2 April 2012

Memory




Recently I watched the film Perfect Sense. In the film the world is ending, with people across the globe catching a bizarre virus; sufferers firstly display an extreme emotion (sadness, rage, joy...) and then are depleted of a crucial sensory perception (sense of smell, taste, hearing and then sight). The leads, Michael (Ewan McGregor) and Susan (Eva Greene), fall in love as the world falls apart. The whole way through the film I couldn't decide if I was actually enjoying it, mainly because I couldn't decide if I liked the two main characters; Susan was very cold and unfeeling and something about Michael made my skin crawl a bit (I have the feeling it was Ewan McGregor that was making my skin crawl and I usually like him - but there was something shifty looking about him in this role). But that's getting off the point a bit...what I definitely did like was the idea and the sentiment behind it all (oh and I did love the closing scene and closing lines). It made me realise how scary the world would be if we found ourselves trapped alone inside our heads without any way of interacting with others and how even losing one sense would take away so much.

Co-incidently enough I had just started to read The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which for anyone who is not in the know, is a book dictated by the once editor-in-chief of French Elle , Jean-Dominique Bauby, who after suffering a massive stroke finds himself the victim of 'locked-in syndrome'. His mind is fully alert but he is completely paralysed, save for the ability to blink one eyelid. It is through his blinking and the use of his speech therapist's specially constructed alphabet that he dictates this book (such an amazing achievement as it is beautifully written). Throughout the book Bauby reminds us of the simple things in life, all with an admiral upbeat humour. In one chapter he recalls the best sausage he has ever eaten. He can no longer eat - food is transported into him via a tube. His memories are what now brings him some happiness. I loved the line, 'For pleasure I have to turn to the vivid memory of tastes and smells, an inexhaustable reservoir of sensations....Now I cultivate the art of simmering memories.'

Again, the book made me think about the importance our senses play in enriching our lives. Then I got to thinking how the more our lives are played out online (the irony is not lost on me, I am aware I am typing this on a blog) we are effectively destroying our memories; a smiley icon doesn't replace the sound of laughter; if I can only smell my own perfume as I interact with someone online then I'm not forming a memory of them- I'm forming a memory of myself. It's kind of a scary thought. So on that note I'm singing off...goodnight.