If child-like imagination (in all its wonder and all its pitfalls) were transformed into a feature-length film, that film would be The Science of Sleep (2006). Scrap cardboard, cellophane and PVA glue hold together this patchwork of fruitless dreams and unrequited love.
I first tucked myself into The Science of Sleep after many restless nights. During February of 2022 I rarely slept, choosing to delve into film worlds to avoid the real one. On the morning of Storm Eunice, Gael García Bernal’s near-insufferable pining pulled me into a trance. García Bernal is Stéphane, a man who finds himself back in his childhood home in Paris following his father’s death. Thrust back into naivety through his displacement, Stéphane endlessly pursues his neighbour Stéphanie (Charlotte Gainsbourg) rather than dealing with his grief. He creates time-jumping machines, sleepwalks to her door at night, and reveals himself as a stagnant adult.
It is a creation of dreams. I turn to it when I’m tired and feel in need of a bedtime story; there’s comfort within it despite a dejected tone. Director Michael Gondry portrays an active imagination as a hindrance, a comfort blanket that holds Stéphane back rather than setting him free. It seems as though I’m also a victim of this, having turned to the film because I wanted to dream without sleeping.
The compelling story of The Science of Sleep lies in its lack of motion, as Stéphane does not grow in his own life, only his dreams. This friction between the real and dream worlds keeps me returning for more, and even after five viewings I continue to connect to this tension, feeling deeper despair with each re-visit. Stéphane projects all of his desires in his dreams, but is incapable of relaying those into his life—a struggle I believe many of us have with both literal and figurative dreams. My hopes for who I’d become haven’t been fulfilled, and I’m completely lost on what to do. What Gondry suggests is that it isn’t always possible to fix that. I realise writing these things that it sounds as though this film couldn’t be further from a comfort watch, but somehow, despite its negativity, Stéphane’s dreams are a space I can’t help but keep re-entering.
Grief is the film’s most important element, even if it is sidelined within it. Stéphane pushes aside his own grief, his longing for his father intermittently coming through in his dreams but always diverted by trivial worries such as his job or love life. I lost a close relative seven months before first watching the film, and I’ve found it to be a representation of grief that most closely resembles my own. I didn’t provide myself time to grieve, and when I was down, it was always about something inconsequential. In retrospect, I wish I had just dealt with the real problem rather than focusing on the outside noise, but grieving is never that simple.
Gondry has a talent for entertainingly portraying these struggles of the human psyche. He proved that in his previous film, Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind (2004), and his later work, Mood Indigo (2013). Using animation and surrealism, Gondry elevates his characters to different realms, giving audiences an insight into how they view the world beyond interactions with others. Stéphane’s stress at work translates into his dreams as he runs around the office with hands the size of a giant’s, and his anxieties about his crush on Stephanie show themselves through his repeated dreams of her reciprocating his interest.
Stéphanie acts more as an audience surrogate than Stephane. She represents reality hitting Stéphane, as he refuses to look past a romanticised view of her. Gainsbourg brings a soft defensiveness to the role that works perfectly. She sees Stephane, wants him to be a better fit for her, but knows that that cannot be their reality. Their romance is relegated to the dream world, not by her, but by him. It can be argued that Stephanie stands in direct opposition to the ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girl’ trope, as she quickly makes clear her importance in the outside of Stéphane’s narrative. None of the instances of Stéphane and Stéphanie’s romance are ‘real’ in the narrative, providing a space in the story for Stephane’s perception of Stéphanie and the true Stephanie to co-exist. Stephane’s overall world-view, and particularly his view of Stephanie are completely disparate from reality. This romanticism Stephane projects onto his life appears as a coping mechanism, common to many, one I’ve been prone to.
If you take anything from this edition of Movie Monday, please cherish Jean-Michel Bernard’s soundtrack. It’s a soft lullaby weaved throughout, perfectly accompanying Stéphane’s adventures. I often play it during long bus journeys just to feel light. On its own, the soundtrack traces the film’s narrative through Garcia Bernal’s sleepy whispers. Hopefully this inspires you to visit what I believe to be Michel Gondry’s best and most complicated film to date. It is equal parts comedic, heart-warming and saddening, and overall feels like a long hug.
Words by Isaac Arif
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