Six of Seven Cows
It’s now official: Technological and artistic excellence have finally combined to deliver on the promise of a century-plus of movie-making. All other genre’s can be set aside. The Coen’s and Scorcese and any other director who wishes to stay on the cutting edge of film will now have to come to grips with the greatest movement in movies since the living dead. Of course – though surely you know – I’m talking of the big-screen marvel that is the talking dog movie.
This week’s masterpiece, if you haven’t guessed, is Beverly Hills Chihuahua, and I’m only half-kidding about it being a masterpiece. Ok, masterpiece is a bit much, but this is a fun movie that will almost certainly send you home in a better mood than you came with. I’m a sucker for dogs, though, so maybe I’m not the best judge, but I laughed, I cried, I drank half of my wife’s slushy (still miss the Icee’s!!) and got punched in the arm.
Not that the plot matters – this is a talking-dog movie, after all – but Chloe, who is given voice by Drew Barrymore, is a spoiled, Paris Hilton-clone of a Chihuahua who gets lost on the mean streets of Mexico. Befriended by the streetwise Delgado, a former police dog played (?) by Andy Garcia, Chloe suffers the indignity of her fall from her privileged perch atop the canine heap. It’s all fairly predictable stuff, with a few hilarious surprises, but it’s innocent, good hearted fun that is sadly far too hard to come by. Go see it. You’ll like it. I promise.
Now, here’s a question: What’s the point of paying high-dollar actors like Drew Barrymore, Andy Garcia, Cheech Marin, Paul Rodreguez, Pla’cido Domingo, and Edward James Olmos to provide the voices for a talking-dog movie? This is not a rhetorical questions; I really want to know. That’s a lot of cash, especially when the only readily recognizable voice belongs to Cheech Marin. Few are the times, I suspect, when a movie-goer says, “Oh! That’s Pla’cido Domingo! I love his voice!” Maybe I’m wrong, however unlikely that might be, but who has ever turned off the The Simpsons because Clint Eastwood wasn’t playing Homer? Just a question…
I can’t let this week pass without saying goodbye to Paul Newman. Having been out of the public eye for a while, I’m sure younger movie buffs might not realize the stature of Newman as an actor. The nearest comparable talent among today’s actors is Russell Crow. Newman was young, rebellious, tough and vibrant when I first began caring about movies. Films like The Sting, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and Cool Hand Luke made him the perfect idol for kid with a rebellious streak. Now he’s grown old and died. Wow. I guess it’s time I grow up, huh?
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