(18) My diving bell has dragged you down to the bottom of the sea, with me.

If you have ever wondered what it must feel like to live without the function of your limbs and faculty of the rest of your body, look no further than “The Diving Bell and Butterfly" (or "Le Scaphandre et le Papillon").

Based on the life of French fashion editor Jean-Dominique Bauby after a crippling stroke in 1995, the 2007 film follows his struggle to regain the life he has left after being diagnosed with “locked-in syndrome” and left paralyzed, save for his left eye.

Bauby's nurse, Claude (Anne Consigny), holds up the alphabet chart.

Ranked 18^th on the American Cinematographer’s list of 50 best-shot films in the last decade, “The Diving Bell and Butterfly” presents a unique set of conditions in comparison to its French peer “Amélie.”

Largely told through Bauby’s perspective, namely through the left eye, the film serves us an unsettling and dismal view of Bauby’s new static and often times, crooked world.

Bauby's ex-wife Céline Desmoulins (Emmanuelle Seigner) and doctor (Patrick Chesnais) watch over him.

Picturesque cinematography is scarce and when present, is always somehow imperfect——always askew. There is no fanciness, no ideally lit or well-framed visual indication of underlying themes or emotions; instead, it is raw and incoherent in form and by that, authentic in experience.

One sees and feels and struggles as Bauby does. And with him, we know the anguish without seeing his tears because when the screen clouds over and the colors in the frame blur together, it is enough to understand. The film is a ride, a frustrating and intensely personal ride that is undoubtedly worth its placement on your Netflix queue.

Happy accidents

A criteria of judging cinematography is its ability to effectively propel a story. Like music, it evokes and instills feelings without verbal cues or instructions. Its meanings are implied, hitting on instinctual notes, and while not wholly graspable, can still be felt by its viewers.

In the late 1920s, many early cinematographers feared that the advent of sound would mean the death knell for cinematography. They presumed that stories would henceforth be explained, as opposed to being tactfully conveyed through thoughtful imagery—the fundamental domain of film.

However, when “The Jazz Singer” debuted in 1927 and other “talkies” thereafter, it was evident that the importance of cinematography remained a vital and foundational aspect of film and filmmaking.

Regardless of dialogue, a story’s mood is still dependent on its framing and lighting and eventually in the late 1930s, its colors. As a visual medium, artistic and technical decisions are what carries films on a conscious, and more importantly, subconscious level. It adds depth and meaning where words fail to adequately express the appropriate emotions.

Richard Brooks’ 1967 film “In Cold Blood" characterizes such an instance. In a scene toward the end, a tormented Robert Blake relays the story of his abusive father before his sentence is carried out. While the play of light and rain reflecting off the window onto his face was a happy accident, it is evident that that moment undoubtedly added so much more to Blake and by extension, the story.