I’d be remiss to not mention the controversy surrounding “A Dog’s Purpose” before getting into my review proper. After all, it’s the only thing on everyone’s mind in relation to the film lately, so those reading this review will simply be perusing through in search of the controversy. Considering the evidence at hand isn’t concrete, I’ve not formed a solid opinion on the matter. The video leaked by TMZ shows dog handlers mistreating a frightened canine by forcing it into rushing waters to film a stunt in which a police dog saves a drowning woman. It sparked an outrage, including protests by PETA, despite new testimony coming through the grapevine stating the footage had been heavily edited. What actually happened, according to the studio, is the trainers attempted to ease the dog into the water and, upon noticing the shaken animal, stopped the stunt and shut down production for the day (an unheard of act on a film set). The studio hasn’t released the full footage, giving protesters more ammunition, but the conflicting reports makes it hard for me to stand on one side.
As it stands, I can only review “A Dog’s Purpose” for the film that it is. And that film is a well-intentioned melodrama that is unfortunately hindered by its gimmick. Said gimmick is that of a dog blessed with the gift of reincarnation and the ability to narrate all of its lives. (You’d think a cat, known for having nine lives, would get this honor, but I digress.) The reincarnation angle rushes some of the stories and the narration is far too intrusive. It gets in the way of the drama; the talkative canine resorting to stating the obvious in order to get a word in edgewise. There’s never a moment for intimacy as the film feels inclined to incorporate its gimmick. You can’t sell tickets to a talking dog movie if the dog doesn’t talk. Who cares if what it says is nothing of value?
Director Lance Hallström struggles in balancing the narration. He rightfully doesn’t want to resort to a barrage of sophomoric jokes normally found in talking animal pictures, as that would undermine the drama. However, he can’t make the narration work with the drama. By making the canine speak during every emotional moment, the drama is diminished. For instance, when his loving owner is leaving for college, the dog bluntly states that humans sometimes leave and that’s sad. That’d be the equivalent of Leonardo Dicaprio breaking the fourth wall during “Titanic” to explain to the audience that the ship sinking meant people would drown and that’s sad. The on-the-nose dialogue robs the scene of its power, undercutting
Maybe the narration would’ve worked better had there been emotion in the dog’s voice. Josh Gad, who found great success voicing Olaf in “Frozen,” drops the ball here by delivering a rather monotonous performance. He implants a low-key tenderness to match the naivety of the pup, but never breaks free from that mirthfulness. When the time comes for the dog to exhibit sadness, Gad never conveys the correct somberness. He comes across as bored more than sad, underwhelmed by the cruelty of life as opposed to heartbroken by it. The actual dogs do a far superior job of emoting, whimpering and giving long, hurtful stares with their soft eyes.
Not helping matters is that the drama is never given breathing room. The reincarnation angle requires the dog to die and then immediately be reborn, resulting in death sequences that are brushed aside. The rawness of Carlos (John Ortiz), a Chicago police officer, clutching his fallen canine partner after being shot in a foot chase, is sabotaged by the dog spiritually traveling to a new host. Even the dog subtly cracks wise at this, at one point remarking after a death, “Well, onto the next life!” It’s not framed to be humorous, but unfortunately comes off as such. A shame considering the events surrounding the reincarnation are anything but comedic.
Only one plot survives both the reincarnation and the narration. That one involves the titular dog portraying Tino, the loving companion to lonesome Maya (Kirby Howell-Baptiste). Through an actually amusing comedic beat of Tino falling in love with another dog, he inadvertently introduces his owner to the love of her life, the charming Al (Pooch Hall, whose first name finally found its purpose). The two get married, have children, and watch as both of their beloved pets pass on. It is bittersweet, but it perfectly captures the bond human and animals can possess in tight fashion. The narration finally finds its footing, the playfulness of Gad’s voice acting matching the benevolence on display. The reincarnation angle doesn’t cripple the humanity, instead giving both the family and the dog a nice, gentle sendoff.
At this point, Hallström finally began to find the right balance between the comedy and drama. However, it was too little too late. Returning to the first story, which found a young boy named Ethan (Bryce Gheisar) coping with familial issues through the love of his faithful companion, proved to be underwhelming. This is the result of Ethan’s tribulations coming across as hackneyed as opposed to authentic. His struggle to cope with his alcoholic father and losing the love of his life took a backseat to the developing antics of the talking dog. Therefore, I never became fully invested in his struggle. Him growing up into a confident teenager (KJ Apa) who stands up to his father and wins the heart of Hannah (Britt Robertson), only to lose it all during a house fire (the result of an equally undercooked bully angle), never strikes the right chord. Its heart is in the right place, but the director is too busy struggling with the dog to give it his undivided attention.
The adult Ethan (Dennis Quaid) gets the opportunity to make amends with Hannah (Peggy Lipton), but that too is rushed. Cute and winsome, but not allowed to resonate. The issues with the narration may have been ironed out, finally befitting the drama, but it doesn’t leave a lasting impact. The moment would have been just as heartwarming without the narration.
Maybe the talking animal gimmick should be reserved for comedies. It fits the lightweight nature of them and allows the gimmick to exist without being a nuisance. In a drama such as this, that proclaims a dog’s purpose is unconditional love and companionship, it is too overt. The beauty of the relationship between human and animal is that it transcends communication. The language barrier is broken via an innate comprehension of empathy. By giving the dog a voice, the empathy is eroded. The best moments in this film are the quiet ones, where the dog cuddles up next to the hurt owner to console him/her. The worst moments immediately follow, when the dog speaks but says nothing.
Final Rating: C+