After I saw the commercial for this movie, I wasn't exactly expecting a masterpiece. It looked trite and warmed-over, yet another "wacky lovable dog does wacky lovable things" movie in the grand tradition of "Beethoven" or "Air Bud". Unfortunately, my little brother saw the same kid-friendly commercial and immediately latched onto my right ankle, refusing to rest or sleep for an instant until we hightailed it to the theater to catch the latest Hollywood animal hijinks. After some futile initial attempts at resistance, I saw the "PG" rating and shrugged my shoulders in defeat, figuring that there were probably worse ways to kill an afternoon.
And there undoubtedly are worse ways to spend an afternoon...it's just that, after watching "Marley and Me", I'm fairly certain that there aren't many worse movies you could view with an eight-year old.
We weren't even a quarter of a way through the popcorn before I began to realize that I had made a terrible mistake. First and foremost, the language was not at all what you'd expect from a "PG" rated movie that's (allegedly) geared towards kids; there weren't any "F" bombs, but there were plenty of instances of the 'A' word, the 'H' word, and even the 'S' word. Sex was also talked about frequently, making it painfully obvious after some initial slapstick that the movie wasn't a lighthearted farce meant for kids at all, but a romantic comedy for teens and adults! It sure would have been nice if the movie trailers had intimated that, or better yet, if the ratings association had simply slapped the movie with the "PG 13" rating that it deserved, thereby helping ensure that it was seen mainly by the older audience it was clearly meant for.
Secondly, it wasn't long before the antics of Marley the dog began to take a backseat to the utterly predictable trials and tribulations of the young married couple. If that wasn't bad enough in a kids' film (again, allegedly), we were treated to fascinating discourse about the husband's career path. We had the unique pleasure of sitting through endless vacillations by Owen Wilson's character choosing between life as a columnist or a reporter, and even witnessed a mind-numbing montage of how he got his column ideas (presented in rapid fire monotone) that left me longing for the quiet subtly of "The Fairly Odd Parents".
As the plot labored onward with pregnancy attempts and a miscarriage, I slunk lower and lower in my seat, unable to believe how negligent I had been in trusting the fraudulent "PG" rating and thus subjecting my kid brother to material that was fortunately over his head but which also must have been every bit as exciting to him as visiting a laundromat to watch clothes tumble dry. Anticipating a loud birthing scene once Jennifer Aniston's character officially did become pregnant, I took him for an extended trip to the concession stand and asked him if he wanted to leave early. Of course he said no, that the dog was funny; relieved that I hadn't scarred him for life, I gritted my teeth and compounded my mistake by returning to the auditorium for the remainder of the film (by the way, I have no idea if the aforementioned birthing scene ever took place-- I purposely made it such a lengthy process at the concession stand that by the time we got back to our seats, Jennifer Aniston's character had not one but two preschool-aged kids).
Providing a cure for insomniacs far and wide, the movie actually surpassed the two hour mark before culminating in the unthinkable: the dog dying at the end! Yes, what more could you possible ask for from a "children's" film than obscene language, sex jokes, and a dead pet? No amount of schmaltz was left unchecked, and by the end of the movie, my little brother was just sobbing (along with about half of the other kids in the audience). Me? I was left stunned, comforting my weeping brother and feeling as low as an earthworm's belly for having put him through such an experience. If only I had it to do over again, perhaps I could have suggested a less painful way for us to spend the afternoon together, like performing home root canals on each other and leaving the nerves exposed.
Now, let me be clear: I don't let myself off the hook for this miserable experience. I absolutely should have known more about the movie before going, and worse, I should have insisted that we leave when it became clear that the movie wasn't going in the direction that I expected. But it seems to me that the advertisers and movie ratings association are both somewhat culpable for a theater full of crying little kids as well. The movie trailers on television were shockingly misleading, making "Marley and Me" seem like a Disney-type film when it was anything but, and either the ratings association is suddenly taking direction from Howard Stern or they just flat-out dropped the ball on this one. In writing this review, I hope to help others avoid making the same mistake that I did.
If you're not an impressionable tot under the age of 30 or so, feel free to go ahead and give "Marley and Me" a shot! But if you're thinking about taking your young kid to what seems like a slapstick comedy about a dog, you would be wise to ignore the "PG" rating and stay away.
And there undoubtedly are worse ways to spend an afternoon...it's just that, after watching "Marley and Me", I'm fairly certain that there aren't many worse movies you could view with an eight-year old.
We weren't even a quarter of a way through the popcorn before I began to realize that I had made a terrible mistake. First and foremost, the language was not at all what you'd expect from a "PG" rated movie that's (allegedly) geared towards kids; there weren't any "F" bombs, but there were plenty of instances of the 'A' word, the 'H' word, and even the 'S' word. Sex was also talked about frequently, making it painfully obvious after some initial slapstick that the movie wasn't a lighthearted farce meant for kids at all, but a romantic comedy for teens and adults! It sure would have been nice if the movie trailers had intimated that, or better yet, if the ratings association had simply slapped the movie with the "PG 13" rating that it deserved, thereby helping ensure that it was seen mainly by the older audience it was clearly meant for.
Secondly, it wasn't long before the antics of Marley the dog began to take a backseat to the utterly predictable trials and tribulations of the young married couple. If that wasn't bad enough in a kids' film (again, allegedly), we were treated to fascinating discourse about the husband's career path. We had the unique pleasure of sitting through endless vacillations by Owen Wilson's character choosing between life as a columnist or a reporter, and even witnessed a mind-numbing montage of how he got his column ideas (presented in rapid fire monotone) that left me longing for the quiet subtly of "The Fairly Odd Parents".
As the plot labored onward with pregnancy attempts and a miscarriage, I slunk lower and lower in my seat, unable to believe how negligent I had been in trusting the fraudulent "PG" rating and thus subjecting my kid brother to material that was fortunately over his head but which also must have been every bit as exciting to him as visiting a laundromat to watch clothes tumble dry. Anticipating a loud birthing scene once Jennifer Aniston's character officially did become pregnant, I took him for an extended trip to the concession stand and asked him if he wanted to leave early. Of course he said no, that the dog was funny; relieved that I hadn't scarred him for life, I gritted my teeth and compounded my mistake by returning to the auditorium for the remainder of the film (by the way, I have no idea if the aforementioned birthing scene ever took place-- I purposely made it such a lengthy process at the concession stand that by the time we got back to our seats, Jennifer Aniston's character had not one but two preschool-aged kids).
Providing a cure for insomniacs far and wide, the movie actually surpassed the two hour mark before culminating in the unthinkable: the dog dying at the end! Yes, what more could you possible ask for from a "children's" film than obscene language, sex jokes, and a dead pet? No amount of schmaltz was left unchecked, and by the end of the movie, my little brother was just sobbing (along with about half of the other kids in the audience). Me? I was left stunned, comforting my weeping brother and feeling as low as an earthworm's belly for having put him through such an experience. If only I had it to do over again, perhaps I could have suggested a less painful way for us to spend the afternoon together, like performing home root canals on each other and leaving the nerves exposed.
Now, let me be clear: I don't let myself off the hook for this miserable experience. I absolutely should have known more about the movie before going, and worse, I should have insisted that we leave when it became clear that the movie wasn't going in the direction that I expected. But it seems to me that the advertisers and movie ratings association are both somewhat culpable for a theater full of crying little kids as well. The movie trailers on television were shockingly misleading, making "Marley and Me" seem like a Disney-type film when it was anything but, and either the ratings association is suddenly taking direction from Howard Stern or they just flat-out dropped the ball on this one. In writing this review, I hope to help others avoid making the same mistake that I did.
If you're not an impressionable tot under the age of 30 or so, feel free to go ahead and give "Marley and Me" a shot! But if you're thinking about taking your young kid to what seems like a slapstick comedy about a dog, you would be wise to ignore the "PG" rating and stay away.
