3.5 stars. Rated PG, for no particularly reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.8.16
There’s such a thing as trying
too hard.
This film’s concept, as suggested
by the hilarious preview we’ve been watching for the past several months, is
irresistible. Everybody who owns a dog, cat, hamster — or whatever — wonders
what our beloved critters get up to, while we’re away from home. Do they chew
our shoes? Invade the pantry? Climb the drapes? Kick back and watch Animal
Planet on the flat-screen TV?
If scripters Ken Daurio, Brian
Lynch and Cinco Paul had delivered on that theme, The Secret Life of Pets would have been more emotionally
satisfying. Alas, the aforementioned trailer — and film title — are a bit
misleading. This story isn’t all that concerned with the secret lives of pets;
it’s actually a scuffle between Max (voiced by Louis C.K.), a quick-witted
terrier who has long been the sole companion of his owner, Katie (Ellie
Kemper); and newcomer Duke (Eric Stonestreet), a massive, fluffy, unruly
mongrel she rescues one day from the local animal shelter.
Long accustomed to being the
alpha dog, both at home and in his multi-story Manhattan apartment building,
Max doesn’t take kindly to this intruder ... particularly when Duke shows
little interest in sharing their territory. This struggle for dominance spills
out onto New York’s mean streets, and soon involves a deranged bunny named
Snowball (Kevin Hart), who heads a massive, motley pack of abandoned animals
calling themselves the Flushed Pets.
Snowball and his gang hate
people, and they also hate pampered pets; the increasingly chaotic result
turns into a slapstick collection of sight gags, some of which jump the shark
(well, crocodile) to a disastrous degree. An interlude in a sausage factory
defies description, particularly when it morphs into a musical sequence set to
“We Go Together,” from Grease.
Along the way, the film loses
what little heart it struggles to display, while also burying the all-important
message: that people shouldn’t adopt pets, if they’ve no intention of keeping
them. Instead, it’s a race to a manic finish line, with co-directors Chris
Renaud and Yarrow Cheney apparently engaged in several rounds of Can You Top
This?
Which is a shame. The lengthy
prologue introduces us to a delightful set of pampered pets, each of whom could
have been explored further. Too often, though, they become sidebar distractions
to the outrageous antics of Snowball & Co.
Max and Katie have a loving
relationship, and Max can’t think of a better way to spend each day, than by
staring at the door until she returns home. A neighboring cat, the rather
corpulent Chloe (Lake Bell), can’t understand such devotion; she prefers to
play it ultra-cool ... except when confronted with anything resembling food.
Thanks to a carefully managed
network of fire escapes and openable doors and windows — all overlooked by
their various owners — Max and Chloe frequently pal around with canine buddies
Mel (Bobby Moynihan), an energetic pug who loves to bark at squirrels; and
Buddy (Hannibal Buress), a sarcastic dachshund with a fondness for getting his
magic spot rubbed. Their little gang also includes a fearless budgie named
Sweetpea, with occasional visits from Norman (Renaud), a guinea pig who long
ago got lost in the apartment ventilation system, and can’t find his way back
to his apartment.
These interactions are watched
from a neighboring building by Gidget (Jenny Slate), a naïve but gutsy Pomeranian
who worships Max from afar.
When Duke’s arrival messes up the
dynamic, he and Max wind up stranded on the street, and absent their collars:
both pooches now furry targets for prowling animal control officers. That’s on
top of getting on the wrong side of Snowball and his aggressive crew.
Gidget seizes the initiative to
become a hero, orchestrating the release of Max’s friends, in order to find and
bring him home. This rescue party also gains two more recruits: Pops (Dana
Carvey), an ancient basset hound who knows the city like the back of his
wrinkled paw; and Tiberius (Albert Brooks), a lonely red-tailed hawk who has
trouble keeping his talons in check, with so many small, furry lunches within
range.
Gidget’s ongoing efforts to rally
her reluctant troops are quite amusing, as are the clever means by which they
traverse the city. Slate’s voice is whiny, high-pitched hilarity all by itself,
and she makes the Pomeranian a thoroughly delightful character. The same is
true of Brooks, whose Tiberius gets all the best (and driest) one-liners; he’s very funny.
Spending time with Gidget and her
group is charming. Alas, Renaud and Cheney far more frequently cut away to the
crazed antics of Snowball and his
motley crew: notably Tattoo (Michael Beattie), a pot-bellied pig who was used
for practice at a tattoo parlor, until they ran out of room; and Ripper, a
vicious dog restrained within a Hannibal Lecter mask. Muscle and intimidation
are supplied by a razor-toothed crocodile and a snarling little reptile dubbed
Dragon.
Granted, Hart’s Snowball is a
hoot: unhinged and uncontrolled, each of his rat-a-tat bursts of
vengeance-laden declarations crazier than what came seconds before. It feels
like Snowball was conceived in the spontaneous, motor-mouthed mold of the Blue
Genie, from Aladdin. Talented as Hart
is, though, he’s no Robin Williams; Snowball’s shtick is amusing initially,
because of the obvious disconnect between the tiny bunny’s cute appearance, and
his unbalanced ferocity ... but a little of that goes a long way.
As is the case with Snowball’s
mean-spirited pursuit of Max and Duke.
The resulting balance is off, and
that’s surprising, given the care with which Renaud and his writers crafted the
characters in the Despicable Me and Minions franchises. Snowball and his
animal thugs don’t “fit” well with the domesticated characters; the nasty
bunny’s behavior interferes with the far more important bond developing between
Max and Duke, and the gentler antics of Gidget’s rescue party.
There’s also an oddly
unsatisfying sidebar involving Duke’s previous owner: a sequence that builds
emotional oomph with a poignant
flashback, and then just sorta gets dumped, with insufficient resolution. Not
as weird as the sausage factory fiasco, but equally clumsy.
The narrative may be flawed, but
the animation can’t be faulted. The film opens with an amazing “tracking shot”
that begins with a majestic overhead view of the city, before zooming through
parks and streets to arrive at the apartment complex that houses our primary
characters. It’s an exhilarating experience, and beautifully orchestrated; the
same can be said for many subsequent establishing sequences, as we roam through
different parts of the city.
The character animation is cute,
the voice talent either complementing or wittily contrasting a given critter’s
appearance. Louis C.K. makes Max a stalwart, essentially honorable canine who
wisely fears to go where events keep taking him; Stonestreet is appropriately crusty
and self-defensive as Duke, whose imposing exterior conceals all sorts of
insecurities.
Minion fans will be delighted to
see that this film is preceded by a hilarious short, Mower Minions, which finds our yellow, capsule-shaped sidekicks
hiring out as yard-care “experts,” in order to raise enough money to buy a
banana blender (as seen on TV). This is Illumination Entertainment’s inaugural
theatrical short, and I hope it’s the first of many more to come.
(And have you ever noticed that
the word “minion” is present in IlluMINatION?)
Young
children are bound to love The Secret
Life of Pets; it’s a giddy, frequently funny, 90-minute roller coaster
ride. But it won’t resonate as much with older viewers who’ve been conditioned
by better, sharper and more insightful animated films from Pixar, Disney and
Blue Sky.
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