In 2007 humans died from natural disasters, space programmes soared and sank and the EU continued to expand. People were nice and people were nasty. The usual. But, in addition, 2007 was also noted as The International Polar Year, with extensive research programmes, - launched from Paris, trained on the Arctic and Antarctic - strange places of anamolous geomagnetism, auroral phenomena, of currents and tides, of atmospheric electricity and animal instict.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly; Julian Schnabel; France; 2007

The year also witnessed the French further explore the endurance of life in extreme environs with the release of the superlative The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, a mental and physical expedition into the depths of the human spirit, alighting upon emasculation, despair, endeavour and even the emancipation of the soul en route.

Summary: This is the adaptation of the true story of (and penned by) Jean-Dominique Bauby (Mathieu Amalric), feted journalist and dynamic editor-in-chief of French Elle magazine. For 'Jean-Do,' life was a lived in the eye of the storm - a storm of movers and shakers, parties, fashionistas, photographers, artistes and models.

Then, one day, a huge stroke rendered him paralyzed and with total "locked-in" syndrome. With only his left eye-lid still responsive to his fully-functional mind, Jean-Do and his saintly speech therapist Henriette (Marie-Josee Croze), develop a pain-staking system of communication that, ultimately, helps him realise the importance of his memory and memories, allowing him to fly the cage, the diving bell, of a body cut adrift of the brain, to dictate a memoir of his ordeal and help come to terms with his new state of being.

Schnabel's  incredibly personal camera-work means we and Jean-Do are one and the same, inside the only part of him that still works - his mind, from the very beginning. And so we experience this memoir first as it happens, and as it is recalled. Consequently, we are with Jean-Do at all times, when his mind wanders; sometimes lustily, when confronted with a steady stream of beautiful doctors, nurses, physios and therapists; or playfully visiting his favourite restaurant; often self-loathingly and also lovingly, as when he recalls tender moments with his aged fatehr.

We are also with him when he is confronted with his estranged partner, Celine (Emmanuelle Seigner), mother to his children - tense and touching meetings. We are with them when Celine takes Jean-Do and the kids to the beach outside his hospital to spend Father's Day together. We are there when they laugh and cry, perhaps at their shared past and present - maybe most of all for all the what might have been and for a future with a father and a former, imperfect, partner eroded by fate as the sea does the shore. We are also there when Jean-Do's thoughts turn to his mistress and his his newer former life.

But without the cladding of his former existence, rifling through the pages of his memory and his past, Jean-Do discovers the true meanings of things and people, of a happy existence, fulfilment, dreams, love - and we too are with him.

Fortunately, thanks to Schnabel's parallel life as an artist, every last moment of this heartbreaker is as beautiful as the story demands it be (as is the the use of a stunning soundtrack). But it's the extraordinary emotional pull that astounds, something that probably came from Schnabel's personal conection to the story after having looked after his cancer-stricken father wh was scared of dying.

At times, The Diving Bell.. is almost unbearable such is the intensity of the very personal despondency portrayed. Yet, much like Jean-Do's actual memoirs, the film serves almost as a therapy. Really, this is masterfully uplifiting work and that rare thing: a 'real-life' life-affirming movie, of the sort where joyousness is treasured all the more for it's closeness to utter tragedy.

Memorable moment: Though essentially a redundant imperative given the constant near-perfection of The Diving Bell.., the scene where doctors sew up Jean-Do's eye does stick out. As so foten, the camera lens is Jean-Do's eye - and so it is ours too. Consequently, through incredibly executed camera-work, the distress of the action itself, as well as the fear of losing one of the few remaining means of communication, is all the more affecting.

Best line: Jean-Dominique: "I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren't paralyzed, my imagination and my memory."