‘Sea’ swells with passion for life amid a quest for death

Alejandro Amenabar’s deeply moving “The Sea Inside” transcends what by rights should have been a bummer of a story to become one of the most profound and uplifting dramas of the year. Based on the true story of Ramon Sampedro, a Spanish quadriplegic who for 30 years fought for the right to assisted suicide, the film focuses on Ramon’s passion for life -- which was not, in his case, at odds with his wish to die.

“The Sea Inside” centers on Ramon’s many close personal relationships, and explores the issue of what it means to be alive and what gives life meaning. Confined to a bed for almost three decades after breaking his neck in a diving accident, Ramon (Javier Bardem) is forced to rely on the loving care of his sister-in-law, Manuela (Mabel Rivera); his goofy teenage nephew, Javi (Tamar Novas); his father, Joaquin (Joan Dalmau); and his older brother, Jose (Celso Bugallo). He has also, since his legal battle began, come to count on the friendship and counsel of three women: Gene (Clara Segura), an activist for a pro-euthanasia organization; Julia (Belen Rueda), a lawyer suffering from a progressive disease; and Rosa (Lola Duenas), a lonely young factory worker and single mother intent on showing Ramon that life is really worth living, mostly because she needs reminding herself.

Bardem is a large, powerful man and a dynamic actor; and at first it’s a shock to see his mobility confined to his face and his expressiveness to his eyes. The specter of his physicality haunts the film, as does the ghost of his youth. Ramon is in his 50s when most of the action of the film takes place, while Bardem, who endured four hours of makeup a day for the role, is just 35. And it’s as if the actor’s youth and energy added an extra layer of frustration to Ramon’s thwarted vitality. A scene when we see him on the beach as a young man -- on the day a careless daydream sent him flying dreamily into a cove at low tide -- doesn’t come until later in the film, and is all the more powerful after we’ve come to accept the years that have been applied to his face.

The title “The Sea Inside” is a strange, not-quite-literal translation of the Spanish term for “at sea,” as in, where sailors can be found. It’s also a metaphor for Ramon’s condition. As a young man, he worked as a mechanic on a ship and had traveled the world by the time he was 20. We see him in the photos Manuela digs up for Julia, beaming in front of monuments, gazing at girls. Since his accident, however -- that is, for most of his life -- he has more or less refused to leave his brother’s house. He rejects the use of a wheelchair not out of self-pity or petulance, but because he finds it a poor substitute. (And he’s forever having to defend his opinions as merely his own, and not those of all quadriplegics.) What Ramon prefers instead is to transport himself in his imagination. He reads, writes poetry, listens to Wagner and political debates on the radio, flies out over the ocean in fantasies, and kisses Julia on the beach. Which is to say that even after his accident, Ramon is at sea; only now it means he’s nowhere, he’s adrift, his life is elsewhere.

Full of humor, tenderness, empathy and genuine human contact, “The Sea Inside” is perhaps most remarkable for its positivity. Each of Ramon’s relationships is deeply moving and -- forgive me -- special, but not one moment in the film could be called sentimental or maudlin. On the contrary, it’s witty, sharp and emotionally restrained. It’s also devilishly honest about human behavior, especially pettiness, which doesn’t know an inappropriate time from a hole in the ground.

The more attached to Ramon that Rosa becomes, for instance, the more the movie plays up the rivalry between her and Manuela. Each is in love with Ramon in her own way; the women spar over the privilege of shaving him and preparing his meals. When Julia spends long afternoons at his bedside, editing the volume of poetry she convinces him to publish to gain support for his cause, Rosa’s hackles are raised. But when Rosa calls Ramon crying for the umpteenth time, Julia’s jealousy flares up as well. As for him, he can’t believe it. “I mean, look at us!” he laughs at Julia, as she fumes in her wheelchair. The spectacle of three women fighting over a man who literally can’t lift a finger is hilarious to him -- when it’s not, of course, literally unbearable.

On his first meeting with Julia, trying to explain why he’d made his decision to pursue an assisted suicide, Ramon said he couldn’t live with the fact that the three feet separating them signified for him an impossible journey. But while Ramon never strays from his purpose, he’s proven wrong on this point. He and Julia easily bridge that distance without ever having to move a muscle, and he touches the lives of everyone around him so profoundly that his gruff, simple brother would prefer to remain angry with him forever than to consider the possibility of seeing him gone.

Bardem’s performance is a marvel of restraint and control, both physical and emotional, thus making a nice contrast with the “Pagliacci” that Ramon likes to blare in the background. Like the sad clown, Ramon cries by smiling too. But he doesn’t make a big opera out of it.

And anyway, the ubiquitous smile isn’t always sad. It can be full of kindness and patience, even when he’s explaining his decision for the millionth time.

In one of the film’s funniest, feistiest scenes, he is paid a visit by a quadriplegic Jesuit, who insists on carrying on a philosophical conversation even though his wheelchair won’t fit up the staircase and Ramon won’t come downstairs. The old priest makes a young priest run up and down the stairs relaying metaphysical zingers and ripostes. He makes the argument that to kill oneself is to treat one’s body like private property, when in fact our bodies belong to God.

“You’re kidding me,” replies Ramon, enjoying himself immensely. “The church was the first to sacralize the idea of private property!”

“I can’t tell him that,” says the young messenger. But Ramon, who comes from simple country people and rarely gets a chance to engage in this level of debate, is having too much fun to stop:

“And it accepts the death penalty and burned infidels at the stake for centuries!”

A wide-ranging work of tremendous insight, maturity and humanity, “The Sea Inside” doesn’t even belong in the same category as the average untimely-death weepie -- if for no reason other than that the characters keep a pretty stiff upper lip the whole time the audience is falling to pieces.

*

‘The Sea Inside’

MPAA rating: PG-13 for intense depiction of mature thematic material

Times guidelines: Intense subject matter

Javier Bardem...Ramon Sampedro

Belen Rueda...Julia

Lola Duenas...Rosa

Mabel Rivera...Manuela

Celso Bugallo...Jose

Fine Line Features and Sogepaq present a Sogecine / Himenoptero production, in co-production with OGC Images / Eyescreen, with the collaboration of TVE / Canal+ / TVG / Filmanova Invest and the support of Eurimages / ICAA, released by Fine Line. Director Alejandro Amenabar. Producer Fernando Bovaira and Alejandro Amenabar. Screenplay by Alejandro Amenabar and Mateo Gil. Director of photography Javier Aguirresarobe. Wardrobe Sonia Grande. Music Alejandro Amenabar, with the special participation of Carlos Nunez. Production designer Benjamin Fernandez. Running time: 2 hours, 5 minutes.

In selected theaters.