Marley & Me
- Directed by David Frankel
- Written by Scott Frank and Don Roos
- Starring Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston
- Classification: PG
- Rating:
A dog movie that isn't a dog of a movie — what a pleasant Christmas surprise. Not only that, but Marley & Me, which stars Owen Wilson plus Jennifer Aniston along with a puppy-to-aging-pooch succession of yellow Labrador retrievers, can point with pride to two other achievements seldom seen in Hollywood circles: (1) It credibly portrays a relatively happy marriage; and (2) It does the same for a character type often encountered in life but rarely on the screen — the overachiever. Grist for the comic mill, slackers are a dime-a-dozen in pictures, but not their diligent flipside, not the sort of person whose success belies his appearance and demeanour. We've all met that guy, and now he's up in lights.
The Christmas surprise has autobiographical roots in John Grogan's memoir, but, as he did with The Devil Wears Prada, director David Frankel pulls off an adaptation that does a pop book a real cinematic service. Reversing the classic trend, the comedy starts with a wedding and then dares to go where even Shakespeare feared to tread — into happily-ever-after territory. Married on a snowy evening, Josh and Jenny (Wilson and Aniston) make a beeline to the warmth of South Florida, where they continue their careers at rival newspapers. She's hot, he's not; she's a big features writer; he's covering Rotary Club meetings. No doubt, on the surface of things, John has wed way over his head, yet even early on, the movie encourages us to peek a bit deeper into the relationship, to see what she sees — his amiable sensitivity, his self-effacing wit, a casual confidence. So we like him, and, as important, we like her for liking him.
Enter "the worst dog in the world," bought by John to slow down his wife's biological clock and named Marley — after reggae's Bob not Dickens's Jacob. Enter too the expected canine shenanigans that, initially, look to have the flick on a predictably lame and formulaic track. You know the cutesy drill: Little Marley chews the furniture, poops on the rug, bolts off the leash, grows into big Marley and flunks out of obedience school. Nope, not promising at this early point.
But it soon becomes apparent the script is cleverer than that, choosing to use the dog not as the focal point of the story but as a catalyst — a constant presence in a changing marriage. At work, for example, a gruff editor (Alan Arkin rings some lovely variations off the stereotype) encourages John to give up factual reporting for a personal column. His first reaction is to sound the objection of every journalist handed a bum assignment: "I don't even read that crap when other people write it." But he proves to have a columnist's talent — John finds his voice.
Meanwhile, Jenny is losing hers. The tone shifts abruptly with her miscarriage, then shifts again when a successful pregnancy brings forth their first child. She sacrifices her own job for full-time motherhood, and her ensuing frustrations strain their relationship without breaking it, much as they deepen the movie without degenerating into cliché. Instead, as one baby grows and another arrives, the dialogue captures her darkening mood in succinct outbursts: "Is it possible to be this tired?" or, more tellingly, "I never thought that Marley would seem to be the easy one." Nor is Josh immune. Pushing 40, and locked into that eternal column, he does what the most ardent husband has done at least once: Drive home from work, pull into a darkened driveway, look up at the lighted window and stay in the car — lingering for a few blissful moments of calm before the toddlers' storm.
Wilson's laid-back screen persona works well in this role, but also gets enlivened with an uncharacteristic dose of integrity and decency. And Aniston keeps most of her bad sitcom habits in check; she doesn't seem a liability here, which speaks well of her and perhaps better of the screenplay. As for Marley, the arc of the dog's shorter life neatly counterpoints the longer domestic journey. On the human side — bigger family, bigger car, bigger house, bigger job. On Marley's side — the first worrisome sign of a limp, the struggle up the porch stairs, the once-manic runs slowed to a canter and now to a painful walk.
Yes, bring a pocket supply of tissue, because this is Old Yeller for adults. But bring a measure of gratitude too, because this is a movie that definitely exceeds expectations. Never brilliant but always solid and often wry, Marley & Me is what it celebrates — an amiable overachiever.
