3.5 stars. Rated PG, for brief peril and mild rude humor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.17.19
Utterly shameless.
Relentlessly manipulative and sentimental.
Also adorable and poignant.
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| CJ (Kathryn Prescott) remains oblivious to the fact that best friend Trent (Henry Lau) has been sweet on her since they were 10 years old; her far more perceptive dog, Molly, wonders why they don't simply lick each other and get it over with. |
Author W. Bruce Cameron has made quite the cottage industry of his Dog books, with two core novels having blossomed into an additional four one-offs, half a dozen young reader Puppy Tales, and an entirely separate story trilogy, all during the past decade.
Director Lasse Hallström transformed 2010’s A Dog’s Purpose into a cinematic charmer two years ago, with a writing assist from Cameron (and rather a lot of co-scripters). He and most of the same writing team have collaborated anew on the script adaptation of that book’s sequel, A Dog’s Journey, this time placing their faith in indefatigable, Emmy Award-winning TV director Gail Mancuso (everything from Scrubs and 30 Rock to Man with a Plan and Modern Family).
Her touch doesn’t quite hit the sweet spot of compelling pathos and gentle humor that has characterized Hallström’s career — notably in Chocolat and The Cider House Rules — and gave his Dog its special radiance. He has an affinity for heightened reality that makes it seem not only credible, but reasonable. Mancuso is a sitcom director: Her approach is broader, with supporting characters who feel more like exaggerated burlesques than actual people, and a more obvious reliance on comedy (particularly with respect to canine one-liners).
This film therefore leans in the direction of TV’s fast-paced artifice, rather than the naturalistic verisimilitude of its predecessor. The emotional content isn’t as authentic, and a few elements have a whiff of calculated contrivance.
In fairness, that’s also because Cameron’s sequel novel isn’t nearly as fresh as its predecessor. It’s hard to pull off the same clever trick twice.
The gimmick is that Cameron’s alpha canine is a regenerative soul that remembers all of its past lives and responsibilities. This begins in the first film when 8-year-old Ethan gets his first dog: a rambunctious Golden Retriever puppy dubbed Bailey, who becomes his best friend. Dog’s lives being so cruelly brief, Bailey soon leaves a heartbroken Ethan behind; ah, but after a series of subsequent bodies and owners, Bailey is reunited with an older Ethan (Dennis Quaid), now as a Australian Shepherd/St. Bernard cross.
This is where Journey begins: with Bailey — now dubbed Boss Dog — happily ensconced on a Michigan farm with Ethan and his sweetheart, Hannah (Marg Helgenberger). The family unit includes their widowed daughter-in-law, Gloria (Betty Gilpin), and her 2-year-old toddler daughter, CJ (Emma Volk, cute as a button). Boss Dog guards the latter with far more care than her vain, selfish, insecure and generally useless mother.
Wherein lies the first problem. Gloria isn’t merely the Mother From Hell; she’s the template for all Mothers From Hell. Gilpin makes her a full-blown horror, whom we loathe at every turn. But one can’t help feeling that Mancuso encourages her to work it too much.
The second problem erupts later, when this episodic saga — apparently not content with one villain — subsequently lards the recipe with a Boyfriend From Hell and a Girlfriend From Hell. (At which point, we can’t help rolling our eyes.) They’re played, with one-dimensional absurdity, by Jake Manley and Daniela Barbosa.
But backing up…
Boss Dog’s time comes, as it must. Making poor Ethan lose his beloved companion twice seems rather cruel; on the other hand, he now has the advantage of knowing how things work. He therefore looks into Boss Dog’s fading gaze and makes him promise to come back for CJ: “Protect her. Love her.”
A decade passes. CJ, now 11 (and played by the winsome Abby Ryder Fortson), lives alone with her defiantly narcissistic mother, who has added alcoholism to her many sins; Gloria long ago moved them away from Ethan and Hannah’s loving embrace (a spiteful act that even Gilpin can’t entirely sell). CJ’s life is brightened by best friend Trent (Ian Chen), and one day the two kids encounter a litter of Beaglier puppies available for adoption.
Trent takes one; CJ goes home with another, whom she dubs Molly … and who, being the reincarnated Bailey/Boss Dog, instinctively remembers her. Unfortunately, Gloria hates dogs; cue poor CJ’s ultimately doomed effort to conceal this unrestrained, destructive newcomer. A confrontation is inevitable, but — demonstrating the spunk that’ll later serve her well — CJ holds her ground, and wins the day. (And boy, that’s a satisfying moment.)
Time passes again; life happens. Unlike the first film, when Bailey was at Ethan’s side only at the beginning and conclusion of his saga, this time Fate mischievously reunites him with CJ through subsequent incarnations as an African Boerboel (“Big Dog”) and then a tiny Yorkshire Terrier (“Max”).
In a rather droll touch, as CJ gets older — and physically larger — her “new Baileys” get smaller.
(It’s important to note that, unlike Ethan, CJ isn’t aware of Bailey’s recurring soul.)
CJ has grown into the body of Kathryn Prescott, who imbues her performance with a layer of wary fragility that we’d expect from such a damaged childhood. CJ is nonetheless genuinely warm and kind, if lacking the bravery to wholly pursue the singer/songwriter career she has long desired. She now lives in New York City, supplementing her income as a dog-walker.
Trent, similarly, has grown up to become Henry Lau, better known — in some circles — as the K-Pop sensation Super Junior-M. His impressive instrumental and vocal talents aside, Lau also is a thoroughly engaging actor, and blessed with a genuinely sincere smile. He’s smooth and natural in front of a camera; we’ve watched, as they’ve aged, how Trent has long carried a torch, in polite silence, for the utterly clueless CJ.
Everything having to do with CJ, Trent and the various Baileys makes this film work, despite the irritating distractions supplied by the trio of From Hells.
The film’s strongest asset, however, is Josh Gad’s return as Bailey’s consistent inner voice. His line readings are precise and perfect, and he never misses an emotional beat. As I noted in my review for this film’s predecessor, Gad imbues his canine characters with just the right blend of playfulness, confusion (over “weird” human behavior), instinctive devotion, and the sense of wonder that belongs solely to trusting, innocent beings.
That said, he’s allowed far more snarky one-liners this time out. They’re all funny, but they dilute the story’s core emotional center.
A Dog’s Journey certainly will be a crowd-pleaser; Tuesday evening’s preview audience applauded not just once, but twice, as the story proceeded. But Cameron needs to take care; the big-screen adaptation of his 2017 one-off novel, A Dog’s Way Home, vanished without a trace when released this past January.
Familiarity can breed fleas, when one drinks from the water dish too often.
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