
The first time I encountered Benjamin Button was during my American Lit class in UP Diliman more than 10 years ago. We were required to read The Great Gatsby and some of his short stories but we unfortunately skipped Button. I don’t know why. I knew the central plot but that’s as far as I know about the short story. However, I’ve read enough material by F. Scott Fitzgerald to know fairly well about his writing style and subjects.
He certainly wrote pieces that were ahead of his time. Ernest Hemingway even “idolized” him. Short stories written that time were kind of dark, not dramatic, but really dark. I don’t even think his stories were trying to be funny. The outrageousness of the plots would just easily squeeze out a hesitant laugh out of you. You would laugh because it was far-out weird. It was that kind of jaw-dropping prose that naturally suspends your disbelief. I liked these short stories (that of Fitzgerald’s, Hemingway’s and the like) because sarcastic, exaggerated and shocking as they were, they always provided a picture of the social milieu of that era, some even still relevant to our present time.

After the movie, I thought this was one good example that it was fortunate that most people have not read the book. But personally, I think even if one has read the short story prior to watching the film, it wouldn’t stir up a revolt. This isn't the type of story that will have that many devoted fans railing against the "mangled" story. In fact, in this case I think the film’s extensive departure from the prose was obviously done for cinematic purposes, and it worked.
Every time I go see a movie that’s based on a short story or a novel, I always try to look beyond what’s presented to me on screen and study the inner details… Questions like why the director used, changed, and totally erased some elements of the prose. There’s a lot to learn about screenwriting with this exercise. Probing into these details give me a better picture on the benefits and limitations of the medium of film.
First of all, I like it that David Fincher (the director) and Eric Roth (the screenwriter) depicted Benjamin’s birth in the most realistic way possible. The fact that a baby was born with an ailing octogenarian’s features was already a big stretch. They had to make the premise at least “acceptable.” The short story version, where Benjamin was born as a full-sized adult, was just too preposterous to portray on screen. It worked perfectly in the short story but I guess that’s where we learn that our mind is more capable of handling deplorable, outrageous and über-fantastic imagination than the silver screen could.

I read the short story immediately after watching the film just to make a checklist of the things that were altered for cinematic realism. First of all, the film and the story really have nothing at all in common other than their titles and the central premise – both are about men who age backwards. But while the short story is an ironic tale about human foolishness (we value youth and not the wisdom that comes from living), the film is a morose tragedy about a very normal (and even ordinary) man trapped in a body that ages backwards. The short story was clearly a Dark Comedy not meant for public consumption and only readable and understandable in Literature classes; while the movie was a Romantic Flick all set to make audiences leave the theater teary-eyed and swooning over Brad/Benjamin.

And that was indeed the huge and definitive departure from the short story. It was so surprising to read that the short story Benjamin wasn’t eternally in love with his wife, Hildegard. In fact he was annoyed that while he was growing younger and younger, his wife turned more wrinkly and flabby. Where was the beautiful young woman he fell in love with? He constantly asked. Interestingly, even if Benjamin didn’t have that curious case; if he was just an ordinary man that line was actually very realistic and could even transcend time. In any era, husbands have been complaining about their ageing wives, right?

The short story version focused more on Benjamin’s relationship with his father and later on with his son, and even much later on with his grandson. We clearly see now that the movie has become a new and different story altogether. In the film, the complete opposite happened. Benjamin’s father Mr. Button abandoned him, and later on in the film, Benjamin abandoned his own child; a daughter and not a son. There was no African-American caregiver named Queenie in the story. The short story was set in Baltimore and not in New Orleans. And there was no backward-turning clock in the prose version.
And that’s exactly where the line between film and literature is drawn. In movies, you have to put in visual cues to set up a circumstance, either to make it acceptable (albeit far-fetched) or set up a big plot twist in the end. Short stories don’t need to convince you that it’s real. That’s beside the point. Movies, especially in this day and age have to be rational, even if the premise is way beyond logic. In this case, the clock’s metaphorical existence was placed there to put reason behind Benjamin’s reverse ageing. How? Don’t even ask. That’s what you call “suspension of disbelief.” Case in point is, the producers, director and writer would be able defend that at least they were responsible enough to give viewers a tangible (albeit fairy tale like) reason behind the phenomenon.

If I had to applaud the movie it would be for its successful attempt to make Benjamin’s curious case “realistic” enough in this medical science-obsessed world. In the movie, Benjamin was born with an infant mind, in an infant physiological size but with octogenarian features and ailments. It was fair enough. That depiction could be easily explained by saying his case was probably an unknown hormonal disease or syndrome. So basically, while he was growing in height and mentally/emotionally like any normal person, the only problem was his features were that of an old man’s.

Honestly despite the poignant storytelling, there are quite a number of things to nitpick about the movie, especially the fact that the memoir reading had to be set during the eve of Hurricane Katrina. Okay, Brad we get it that you are paying homage to your so-called second home. But I really think it was unnecessary. It was plainly buying into the emotions of its American viewers. I admit New Orleans was a good choice for the story’s setting but then again it kind of failed to give a more overt effect to its characters. The story could have happened elsewhere and it wouldn’t affect their lives at all. The essence of New Orleans didn’t rub off on Benjamin’s character and the story as much as it should, if they intentionally wrote it that way.
But over-all, the movie version was adorable. I’m a sucker for love stories and the movie version basically toyed with the age-old idea of two star-crossed lovers who are against all odds. Simply put, Benjamin & Daisy could very well sing Barry Manilow’s “We had the right love at the wrong time…” Hahaha. I loved the idea that their curious case was a metaphor and simile for many things in a relationship. First Love never dies... It’s all about meeting in the middle… We are all strangers coming from opposite poles, traveling halfway towards LOVE. *sigh*

To choose which one suit me better: the prose or the film, would be like comparing apples to oranges. The movie’s story stood well on its own. In fact, I think they could have gotten away with changing the title altogether. I don’t think they had to make it known that it was an adaptation of the short story, especially when they changed 98% of it, leaving only the title and basic premise. That alone wasn’t even really precise. So let me change that to 99%.

2 comments:
it was a little weird to see an old version of Brad Pitt's face pasted onto a kid's body, but i guess that's why they call it a "curious case"
thanks, for a great review jill :)
itching to watch na hehe
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