The Movie Nut

Not a dog lover? Go away. Because "Marley & Me" is a shamelessly gratuitous dog lover's film based on the bestseller from columnist John Grogan, who made a living regaling his Labrador retriever's exploits as "the world's worst dog."

An upfront confession: I reside with three golden retrievers, which qualifies me as a "dog person." My youngest dog uses the cat as his own personal trainer/ chew toy—so yeah, our pets entertain us with their endless antics.

And "Marley & Me" is decently entertaining for those of us who've found keys, belt buckles and parts of furniture at the wrong end of our pooches. Marley (named after Bob, by the way) is taken home from a puppy farm by a young couple, a pre-child test drive of sorts.

Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston nicely play John and Jennifer Grogan, and the film documents their years with the irascible, untrainable Marley. Wilson's one of those quintessential boy-and-his-dog type actors, and the film is at its best when John Grogan and Marley are bonding in so many interesting ways.

No disrespect for Aniston, but the film's at its worst when married life intrudes. "Marley & Me" was written as a duet, after all— quite literally the interaction between a boy and his dog. But the film becomes (and one can imagine all that contractual hoopla about equal screen time) a dogandfamily story and to some extent suffers for it.

"Marley & Me" isn't a kidflick either—not at all a shaggy-dog Disneyesque treat for the entire family. Jennifer Grogan miscarries, there's some marital strife; it's more of John Grogan's coming-of-age tale that happens to include a wife, a dog, a career and eventually three kids. Younger children will be bored.

Yeah, it's cute in all the right places and, when an aging Marley begins to fail, tearful in all the right places as well. I've heard more than a few critics describe the film's two-hanky ending as "over the top"—but I expect those people aren't dog lovers.

You know what? You lose a pet and, for some of us, it's like the world caves in. So, yeah, the violins weep (as does the audience), but there's genuine affection up there on the screen, genuine love, and in the end, "Marley & Me" proves itself canineworthy and, for dog lovers, a hearttingly and satisfying film.

Loosely based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" is a fable of a man who ages backwards—born elderly and growing younger as all those around him age and eventually die.

"Button" is a magical, mystical, curiously addictive sort of film, an almost dreamlike saga that crowds the screen with commotion. Had Hieronymus Bosch been a filmmaker—okay, a studio filmmaker—he might have done something like this.

Scripted by "Forrest Gump" writer Eric Roth, some critics have tongueandcheekedly described Button as "Gump 2." Well . . . yeah. Nothing wrong with that. (Except for the platitudes. "Gump" had its endlessly recycled "box of chocolates" cliché. "Button" has "You never know what's coming for you." Like a mantra. Yeah, we get it. And I'm sure T-shirt makers will likely make a killing.)

Both are journey films about men bestowed with unique gifts that perhaps aren't obvious to the outside world. Both are films about coping, adapting, fitting in. "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" is simply a different point of view.

Brad Pitt plays the maninreverse Benjamin Button. The film is a CGI-lover's dream—as Pitt's visage slowly, masterfully dissolves from wizened old infant to boyish elder.

Along the way, those he loves traverse their natural lives, and the curious entwining makes for an unusually fresh and entertaining fantasy. This is very much a story about love and loss, about making the journey its own reward— because there really is no other choice.

After an oddly disjointed first few moments, the film settles into a remarkably even tale, rarely dragging (even at 164 minutes), carrying the viewer through numerous vignettes as Button travels backwards through most of the 20th century.

If there are any complaints, it's that Benjamin occasionally makes too noble a choice—confronting an aging wife, a child who he realizes will eventually become a sibling and perhaps a parent. Because sometimes love is about exactly the opposite—not about unilateral decisions at all, but rather compromise and acceptance of what is, simply for love's sake.