‘Life would be infinitely happier if we could only be born at the age of eighty and gradually approach eighteen,’ wrote Mark Twain. Not at all, says The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Living backwards would create its own unique pain, not just for the one doing the living, but for everyone else too. Disappointment, loss and sadness are inherent in life as we all know it; there is no escape. Nor should there be.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is very loosely based on an early short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, apparently inspired by Mark Twain’s remark. It tells the bizarre story of the backwards life of Benjamin Button (Brad Pitt), from an infant who has the physical characteristics of an old man to his death as a senile baby. Fitzgerald’s story is an amusing fantasy, a whimsy; David Fincher’s film has much grander ambitions. It seems to implore us to view it as a profound examination of the meaning of life. It falls far short of this, though Button’s mirrored life does reflect something important of what it means to be human.
This is a beautifully made film, deserving of some, though certainly not all, of the thirteen Oscars for which it has been nominated. It is a very fine achievement at a technical level, with visual effects and make-up wizardry rendering the various ages of Brad Pitt’s character with impressive believability. Its cinematography and production design are stunning, combining well with Alexandre Desplat’s score to create a lush texture.
The story, however, even leaving aside the ridiculous premise of someone ageing backwards, is problematic. The fundamental issue is that Benjamin Button’s character is rather dull. We like him, of course, because he has to contend with his unusual condition, and his early years being brought up in a New Orleans old people’s home are great fun. Benjamin’s mother died in childbirth, and his father promptly abandoned the monster baby on the steps of the home where he was found and taken in by the delightful black housekeeper, Queenie (Taraji P Henson).
Although a young boy in a diminutive old man’s body creates plenty of humourous situations, Benjamin is a very passive protagonist. The tension in films is generally created by the central characters pursuing certain goals and surmounting obstacles along the way. However, Benjamin has no clearly discernible goal: things happen and he reacts to them. Even when he meets Daisy, who becomes the love of his life, it is some time before we get the sense of him wanting to win her heart.
It is the relationship with Daisy (Cate Blanchett) that creates the tension to propel the story. They are just children when they meet, though Benjamin, of course, looks elderly. They meet periodically during Daisy’s childhood visits to her grandmother in the home. When Benjamin joins the crew of a tugboat and travels to Murmansk, Daisy is dismayed - particularly when he writes to tell her he has fallen in love (with a married woman, played by Tilda Swinton). The affair comes to an end, war breaks out, and Benjamin eventually returns to discover that Daisy has become a successful dancer. Just as it seems they are on the point of becoming lovers, Benjamin declines Daisy’s offer to sleep with him. Rebuffed, Daisy throws herself into her social life in New York, and it is years before they have both reached the point where their relationship can take off.
The key lesson Benjamin learns from all this, it seems, is nothing more profound than Queenie’s repeated observation, ‘You never know what’s coming.’ Life throws its storms at us, and there’s nothing we can do about it. We just need to make the best of it. Of course, to some extent we must simply react to events outside our control, but most people believe that a truly fulfilling life comes from proactively identifying goals and pursuing them. Button himself remarks that, ‘It’s never too late, or in my case too early, to be whoever you want to be,’ and he writes to Daisy saying, ‘I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.’ These remarks suggest a rather more active approach to life than Benjamin demonstrates. In his review for National Review Online (23 December 2008), Thomas Hibbs observes:
