Call the agency for the protection of dogs against exploitation, and this Christmas movie has that in fleas. The basset hound voiced by Rob Schneider is adorable (wish I could say the same about the cloying dialog he barks out), but the human characters remind me of why I preferred dogs. That is outside of the kid whom Shelby ultimately ends up with, John Paul Ruttan, your typical ignored early teen, overshadowed by an obnoxious older brother (think of Kevin's nasty older sibling in "Home Alone") and the screeching younger sister whose doll Ruttan accidentally destroys in a very funny scene.
I couldn't help but wish that the non-stop chattering mother played by Natalie Lisinska would get laryngitis, and giggled at the slight insinuations that father Jefferson Brown wished for the same. At least in this film, the aging Chevy Chase gets to be likeable as the crotchety grandfather, acting as a Greek chorus. Tom Arnold as the dog catcher basically plays Tom Arnold, and that's not a compliment. I was grateful that the uppity woman and her brat of a child who came into the pound and demanded Shelby didn't get him, because Shelby obviously didn't want them. Ruttan's uncle turns out to be even worse than his mother and siblings, and that's a difficult achievement.
It saddens me that movie studios rush out these underdeveloped raw turkeys by the dozen every November and December, even though this one isn't nearly as bad as the hundreds of others. It could take place at any time of the year, but the dollar hungry cinema factories demand that Christmas be dropped in as if it was a long unseen relative. When most of the characters end up being people you wouldn't want as family, let alone spend the holidays with, that's a sign that the writers don't care about the spirit of the holidays or the creativity, but just fulfilling a quota. The abundance of doggy bodily function jokes adds a genuine smell to the overall product.
I couldn't help but wish that the non-stop chattering mother played by Natalie Lisinska would get laryngitis, and giggled at the slight insinuations that father Jefferson Brown wished for the same. At least in this film, the aging Chevy Chase gets to be likeable as the crotchety grandfather, acting as a Greek chorus. Tom Arnold as the dog catcher basically plays Tom Arnold, and that's not a compliment. I was grateful that the uppity woman and her brat of a child who came into the pound and demanded Shelby didn't get him, because Shelby obviously didn't want them. Ruttan's uncle turns out to be even worse than his mother and siblings, and that's a difficult achievement.
It saddens me that movie studios rush out these underdeveloped raw turkeys by the dozen every November and December, even though this one isn't nearly as bad as the hundreds of others. It could take place at any time of the year, but the dollar hungry cinema factories demand that Christmas be dropped in as if it was a long unseen relative. When most of the characters end up being people you wouldn't want as family, let alone spend the holidays with, that's a sign that the writers don't care about the spirit of the holidays or the creativity, but just fulfilling a quota. The abundance of doggy bodily function jokes adds a genuine smell to the overall product.