It's almost the opposite of The Wrestler: sprawling, epic, big budget. Where a writer could have rendered The Wrestler brilliant, in Benjamin's case we wonder what an actor could have done with the title role. It's calculated and mass-market, but somehow it's still got vision and heart. The diversions add texture and depth to the film, as opposed to the confusing, jarring tangents The Wrestler almost seemed to ad lib.
It's sweet, it's sad, it's sappy, it's terrific. One of the best films of the year.
Two small quibbles, though. One, my hopes for a finale featuring a giant fetus with boyish dimples and six-pack abs ascending into space à la 2001 were dashed. And two, Brad Pitt's supposed to pass for a middle-aged dude just by painting on wrinkles and tousling his hair?
Really, you need the incessant farting, too.
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