Reviewed by:

• I Lost My Body Graphic Narratives in Medicine
• Yoshiko Iwai (bio)

Jérémy Clapin’s 2019 animated film, I Lost My Body, tells the story of a severed hand navigating its way through Paris, back to its body.¹ The French graphic story begins with a young man, Naoufel, after a traumatic work-related injury and tracks his life in two parallel narratives: a flashback leading up to the traumatic event, and the life of Naoufel’s hand, which escapes from a specimen bag in a Parisian medical lab to find Naoufel’s body again. Clapin’s feature debut hovers between love story and thriller, while posing valuable questions for the medical community and particularly its application in medical education. Revisiting this graphic narrative from a health humanities and bioethics angle illuminates opportunities for rich discussion around cultural representations of the body as it relates to wholeness, markedness, and agency.

The genre of “graphic narratives” includes film, television, and comic books, among other mediums that traditionally tell stories of particular characters or experiences.² More recently, these graphic narratives have expanded for adult audiences, tackling topics like politics, trauma, medicine, and sexuality, as seen in The Best We Could Do, Waltz with Bashir, Mom’s Cancer, and Fun Home. These animated films and books grapple with complex questions in ways traditional textual or cinematic experiences may not be able to do. In the case of I Lost My Body, the fictional account invites viewers to radically exercise their imagination.

The beginning of the film is an experience of disorientation: the story begins in medias res, leaving the audience confused about timeline, plot, the sudden imagery of blood, the symbolism or significance of the buzzing fly, and whether the man will live or die. The film starts from an unknowable traumatic incident that leaves viewers to their own devices, simultaneously making them aware of their own projections and [End Page 109] expectations of the strange and unexplained event. In the first minutes, discomfort is aroused in the viewer through the suppression of colors in the animation, the subtle movements of Naoufel’s eyes, and the incessancy of the fly. When the frame suddenly turns black and white, a flashback unravels with the motif of the fly bridging temporal leaps. Viewers are asked to suspend their desires for plot, character, and fate of the injury from this early point in the narrative. Even when the secondary narrative reveals a severed hand escaping from a specimen lab’s refrigerator, the link to Naoufel’s injury remains tenuous and the specificities of the injury are shrouded in mystery.

The emotional and sensorial invitation of the viewer’s body into Naoufel’s world relates to Susan Sontag’s ideas in Regarding the Pain of Others. She writes: “So far as we feel sympathy, we feel we are not accomplices to what caused the suffering. Our sympathy proclaims our innocence as well as our impotence.”³ While Sontag writes this quote in the context of witnessing war photography, the framework is applicable to I Lost My Body. Sympathy is evoked in subtle ways in the animated film: the musical and visual cues, romantic and family plotlines, the relatability of Naoufel’s character. However, what is perhaps most effective about the film is the obscurity around Naoufel’s traumatic injury, which urges viewers to continually imagine the inciting accident. This sustained imagination of another person’s trauma fosters a sense of culpability or responsibility so as to not claim innocence or impotence, despite feeling sympathy for the protagonist.

As the film progresses, the isolated hand evolves into an increasingly central figure. The severed hand navigates the French metropolis, fighting off pigeons and rats, going up and down stairs, and taking the subway. The familiarity and characterization of the hand engage the viewer’s body on a visceral level—it is impossible not to become aware of your own hands, whether they are crossed in your lap or resting on a table, as you watch the film. The hand begins to show characteristics we might attribute to human personality: fear, sadness, longing, and love. These characteristics raise...

审核人：

• 我在医学上失去了身体的图形叙述
• 岩井良子（生物）

杰里米·克拉宾（JérémyClapin）的2019年动画电影《迷失了我的身体》（I Lost My Body）讲述了一只被割断的手在巴黎穿行，回到身体的故事。^1个法国的图形故事始于一名年轻的纳乌费尔，他因与工作有关的创伤而受伤，并在两个平行的叙述中追踪了他的生活：导致创伤事件的倒叙，以及从标本袋中逃脱的纳乌费尔的手的生命在巴黎的医学实验室里再次找到了纳乌费尔的尸体。Clapin的功能首次亮相徘徊在爱情故事和惊悚片之间，同时对医学界提出了宝贵的问题，尤其是在医学教育中的应用。从健康人文和生物伦理学角度重新审视这种图形叙事，为围绕与整体性，标记性和代理性有关的身体文化表征的丰富讨论提供了机会。

“图形叙事”的类型包括电影，电视和漫画书，以及其他传统上讲特定人物或经历的故事的媒介。²最近，这些图形化叙事已经扩大到成人观众，涉及政治，创伤，医学和性等话题，如《我们能做到的最好》，《与巴希尔的华尔兹》，《妈妈的癌症》和《娱乐之家》中所见。这些动画电影和书籍用传统的文字或电影体验可能无法解决的方式来解决复杂的问题。在“我迷失了我的身体”的情况下，虚构的故事邀请观众从根本上锻炼自己的想象力。

电影的开头是迷失方向的经历：故事从媒体开始，使观众对时间线，情节，鲜血的图像，嗡嗡的苍蝇的象征意义或意义以及这个男人会死还是死感到困惑。 。这部电影始于一个令人不知所措的创伤事件，使观看者只能使用自己的设备，同时使他们意识到自己的投影和[结束第109页]对这个奇怪而无法解释的事件的期望。在开始的几分钟内，通过抑制动画中的颜色，Naoufel的眼睛微妙的移动以及飞行的不停，引起了观众的不适。当帧突然变成黑白时，反跳会随着架空时空飞跃的飞旋而解开。从叙述的早期开始，要求观众中止对剧情，性格和命运的渴望。即使当次要叙述显示出从标本实验室的冰箱中逃脱的断手时，与Naoufel受伤的联系仍然微弱，而且伤害的特殊性笼罩在谜团中。

观众身体进入纳乌菲尔世界的情感和感官邀请与苏珊·桑塔格（Susan Sontag）的《关于他人之痛》的思想有关。她写道：“就我们感到同情而言，我们感到自己不是造成苦难的帮凶。我们的同情宣告我们的纯真和无能。” ³虽然桑塔格（Sontag）是在亲眼目睹战争摄影的背景下写这句话的，但该框架适用于《我迷失了我的身体》。在动画电影中，人们以微妙的方式唤起了同情：音乐和视觉上的暗示，浪漫和家庭情节，纳乌费尔角色的相关性。但是，这部电影最有效的方法是围绕纳乌费尔的创伤而产生的晦涩感，这促使观众不断想象这起煽动性的事故。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。''。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。.。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。苏苏尼的喜injury的．．．．．．．．．．．．．尽管对主角感到同情，但对另一个人的创伤的这种持续的想象力培养了一种罪恶感或责任感，以至于不声称自己是无辜的或无能为力的。

随着电影的进展，孤立的手逐渐发展成为越来越重要的人物。切断的手在法国大都会中航行，与鸽子和老鼠搏斗，上下楼梯，乘地铁。手的熟悉程度和特征使观看者的身体处于内在的水平上-在观看电影时，无论是交叉在腿上还是放在桌子上，都无法不意识到自己的手。手开始显示出我们可能归因于人类个性的特征：恐惧，悲伤，渴望和爱。这些特征提高了...