I didn't care for her, either. But she was a delightful child. As she grew up, her every thought was only about her, it seemed. How deep could Benjamin have been to have fallen for such a self-absorbed creature? Recuperating from her accident, she was still all about her -- this time pushing him away from self-pity. Finally they sort of meet in the middle of their lives. Did you notice that they were both self-absorbed at that point? Or rather, they were absorbed with each other the way teenagers are with their first big crush. She gets pregnant, and he decides he isn't going to be a good father -- a very '70's thing, apart from his condition -- and decides to split. Predictably, she marries a man she describes as nice and kind -- and looking well-to-do. Just the sort to play the part she needed.
By the time she decides to devote her life to caring for Benjamin, she's more than worn out her welcome in my eyes. But she seems so devoted, and then she sees that last look, knowing that it was for her. Why, of course. The world revolved around Daisy. She hadn't changed a bit.
As Benjamin pointed out, she had decided to do something that had a short shelf-life. It's like the models who have nothing left once the looks are gone, or the figure skaters who slide from the public's acceptance once their bodies can no longer do the triple axles. Or leading men like Brad Pitt, who will be relegated to increasingly smaller roles until he disappears from the screen altogether once his looks are gone. I'm discovering he's a better actor than that, but he's been pegged as a pretty boy leading man.
Instead of butterflies, the symbolism was hummingbirds.
And as one critic put it, "Fincher's selling us cheekboned movie stars frolicking in bedsheets and calling it a great love. I didn't buy it for a second." If Benjamin were truly deep himself, he couldn't have settled for a flighty, superficial creature like Daisy. He was blown sideways through life and pretty much accepted what came, until what came was -- surprise! -- a baby! Neither of them had heard about the birds and the bees, apparently. It hit Benjamin especially with the force of a hammer. He could give money, but, like Daisy, he couldn't give commitment. He had a reason, but then, if you know you can't commit to a baby, you make sure you don't create one. Condoms had been invented over 100 years before, and I'm sure the sea captain had shown him a thing or two before turning him loose in a brothel.
Look up the short story it was based on, and it's nothing like. "Based on" is a term one has to take very, very loosely in Hollywood.
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