Doggie style

Noel Vera

The 1959 "Shaggy Dog," about a boy cursed with an ancient spell that
would change him back and forth from the shape of a sheepdog, was
the first in an assembly line of live-action family-friendly mutts
that The Rat Factory--sorry--Disney churned out in the '60s
and '70s. They've since sunk without a trace (or much regret) in the
intervening years, so it isn't as if the concept of a remake is
strictly for the dogs; there's actually room for improvement--so
much room, in fact, that anyone with enough imagination might rear
up and bark at the idea.

Yeah, right. Disney takes the line of least resistance and fashions
a howler of a storyline involving Tibetan monasteries, lab animal
experiments (never mind that some experiments have saved lives; we
want easy villains to growl at here), and yet another corporate
lawyer in need of saving his soul (the lawyer is from the dim 1976
sequel, "The Shaggy DA," the 'saving his soul' bit from every other
unfunny comedy squeezed out by Hollywood in recent years). The
filmmakers manage to sidestep any semblance of wit in favor of the
cheap laugh, scamper straight for the sentimental at the expense of
the honest, and spring at every chance to use CGI effects as if they
were bags of discounted puppy chow and supplies were limited.
Standard-issue Disney-style storytelling, in other words.

As lead mongrel--sorry--actor, Tim Allen as lawyer Dave Douglas
(Douglas--get it?) is an affable enough presence that you don't mind
spending time with him; his company improves when he's finally
bitten, and starts showing doglike symptoms: he sniffs at all the
fantastic new smells in his kitchen, dashes about energetically, and
wolfs down the cereal in his bowl without use of a spoon. But Allen
is years too old and pounds too heavy to be a persuasively active
pooch: for the more outré effects, the filmmakers have to digitally
improve on Allen's performance--giving him an extra-long tongue, for
example, that he stuffs back into his mouth (as gags go, this one
belongs in the doghouse), and having him digitally sprint across
yards after a hapless cat (yet another CGI chase scene--grrr.).

Much better even within the shorter screen time given to him is
Robert Downey Jr. as the villainous Dr. Kozak. Downey's glower as he
struts and frets his hour upon the stage (actually he's onscreen for
around ten minutes) is more demented than anything else in the
picture; he promises more malevolent fun than he's actually allowed
to deliver (at times he threatens to turn into Dr. Strangelove doing
an impersonation of Cruella de Ville), but even just the promise (or
threat) is enough to make one feel warmly towards him. When he's
finally called to the witness stand and starts betraying canine
characteristics, he leaves Allen's weenie impersonation limping in
the dust; you can believe he doesn't need any digital help to hang
his tongue out one side of his mouth.

The rest of the cast has largely been thrown to the dogs. Danny
Glover, who was a devil of a charmer in the deadpan funny "To Sleep
With Anger," functions mainly as chew bone to move the story along;
Jane Curtin--a Saturday Night Live veteran and wonderfully weird
foil to John Lithgow in "Third Rock from the Sun"--plays court judge
as if she were an overworked dogcatcher waiting for her paycheck. I
hear an actress from HBO's "Sex in the City" (not a big fan) has a
role, but for the life of me can't remember what; other than Downey,
no one was able to leave even the scent of their presence behind.

The movie has many gruesome moments; not so much Allen as Douglas
being scratched behind his ears (and aroused by) his daughter (an
interesting suggestion dropped as quickly as it's raised), but the
times doggy Douglas learns of his family's secrets--the daughter
really believes in animal rights, the son hates football--and his
own cur of a performance as a father. The latter subplot is
especially dodgy--if the son feels he has to fail his studies to
convince his father to let him off football and sing in a musical,
what makes you think said father is going to be at all reasonable
and not turn into a howling homophobe? And where's the scene of the
loving wife finding out just what kind of animal her husband is in
bed (not wholesome, true, but good for a few yelps)?

The movie ends with bad guys punished, good guys rewarded, all loose
hairs plucked and tied in a neat bundle; the sentiment is laid on so
thick it drips, like slobber. Unless you actually consider the
notion of some movie laying its sticky front paws on your lap and
humping your leg for about a hundred minutes comedy, avoid at all
costs.

(First published in Businessworld, 3/17/06)

(Comments? Email me at noelbotevera@...)