When
you reach the stage in life when you start to receive frequent invitations to
fundraisers, you eventually realize you are often better off sending a check and
skipping the soiree. Essentially, this film is a case in point. It features
real life rescued cats and canines and it has a number of screenings this
weekend to benefit cause of animal rescue. Unfortunately, the shticky execution
cannot match the good intentions. Goofy humans have healthy relationships with
their pets, but they are completely lost when it comes to every other aspect of
life in M.J. Anderson & Haik Katsikian’s Rescue Dogs (trailer
here), which
opens today in select markets.
Essentially,
Rescue follows the formula developed
by the Look Who’s Talking franchise,
but with none of its subtlety. Throughout the film, the various critters and
varmints will contribute their running commentary through voice-over narration
and sometimes talk amongst themselves, apparently through some form of animal
telepathy.
Every
morning, Charger helps his socially inept owner Tracy cook up eggs and chorizo
at his surfside breakfast shack, because even if you are a beach bum, breakfast
is the most important meal of the day. Actually, his business plan is not
working out so well. If he does not make this month’s rent, the bank will take
possession of the beachfront shack.
A greedy
golf course developer will do everything he can to hinder Tracy, including
sending round a government health inspector. Needless to say, the doggie in the
kitchen does not go over so well. Things look bad on the restaurant front, but
Tracy’s romantic outlook is even worse. Despite the brewing crisis, he still
finds time to pursue the red-headed Bridgette, who thinks he is a dance
instructor named Fabiolo. You have no idea how awkward that subplot gets.
As true
blue Tracy, Paul Haapaniemi tries so hard in the jokey dance sequences, it is
truly painful to watch him crash and burn. To be fair, he develops some okay
chemistry with Courtenay Daniels’ Bridgette, but sitting through the dumb,
slapsticky humor surrounding them gets to be a chore. However, screenwriter
Jordan Rawlins has nobody to blame but himself for his wince-inducing scenes
playing Tracy’s drugless stoner brother Harper, who fancies himself a treasure
hunter (thereby telegraphing the third act surprise way in advance). His
annoying persona could be described as a poor man’s Jamie Kennedy, which is
quite impoverished indeed.
Charger
is a good boy, yes he is. Unfortunately, the motor-mouth voice-overs do not
match those soulful brown eyes. Better luck next movie Charger. At least he
fares better than Bridgette’s meathead gym rat hamster, Hambone. Those
sequences will tax the patience of even the most zoologically-enamored young
children.
