Four stars. Rated PG, for dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.7.19
No sophomore slump here.
Scripter Brian Lynch hasn’t lost his touch, when it comes to depicting the quirks, tics, foibles and eccentricities of dogs and cats … and their owners. He and his team of Illumination animators obviously observed hundreds of canines and felines, because the results are even funnier than its 2016 predecessor.
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| Once pooches Max and Duke accept the presence of two-legged Ian, everything — most particularly mealtime ‚ becomes a shared activity. |
And if the four-legged behavior is slightly (?) exaggerated for the sake of entertainment value, that simply enhances the fun.
Lynch and director Chris Renaud have returned for this second round of critter comedy, the latter assisted by longtime animating colleague Jonathan del Val. They’ve embraced the “divide and conquer” approach to storytelling, introducing and then cross-cutting between four primary plotlines. They’re all delightful and ripe with well-timed comedy, along with — and this is important — a measured dollop of heart and poignancy.
And a rather uncompromising message. It’s safe to assume that Lynch doesn’t think much of circuses that showcase wild animals.
Primary pooches Max (voiced by Patton Oswalt) and Duke (Eric Stonestreet) remain the best of buddies, having settled into a comfortable routine with owner Katie (Ellie Kemper). Walkies in the nearby park constantly remind Max how nice it is, not to be mauled by grabby, grody, grimy children.
Then, disaster: Katie meets and marries Chuck, and — to Max’s horror — the inevitable occurs shortly thereafter. Things do indeed get rather grim for a few years, but when toddler Ian’s first word turns out to be “Max,” everything changes in a heartbeat. All those other little children may be pesky nightmares, but not Max’s boy.
Duke, ever the go-along-to-get-along sort, knew it would all work out just fine.
But with acceptance comes a new problem. Max, now terrified of everything in the big, bad world that seems designed specifically to endanger Ian, becomes a nervous, anxious, fretful helicopter pooch with a tendency to scratch himself raw. Cue a trip to a behavioral veterinarian — the waiting room sequence is to die for — and Max returns home trapped in a cone of shame.
Katie and Chuck then decide to visit the family farm, where Max and Duke encounter all manner of fresh smells, and the critters associated with them: cows, sheep, pigs, chickens, an unexpectedly belligerent turkey, and gruff farm dog Rooster (Harrison Ford, making a terrific debut as an animation voice actor). Cue the onset of plotline No. 2.
Meanwhile…
Prior to his departure, Max entrusted his favorite chew-toy to neighbor Gidget (Jenny Slate), the plucky Pomeranian who has long worshipped him. Alas, she carelessly allows the toy to bounce out an open window, and it winds up in the apartment of a downstairs neighbor: a near-blind little old lady who shares her digs with (shudder) somewhere north of 50 cats.
At which point, aloof feline neighbor Chloe (Lake Bell) is enlisted to help Gidget find her inner cat, so that she might clandestinely penetrate this apartment of horrors.
Meanwhile…
Psycho-bunny Snowball (Kevin Hart), taking his young owner’s superhero fixation too much to heart, fancies himself a Spandex avenger of evil. He gets a chance to prove it, when new-found Shih Tzu buddy Daisy (Tiffany Haddish) recruits him for a dangerous mission: to rescue a gentle white tiger named Hu, from a cruel Russian circus owner (Nick Kroll, as Sergei) and his four nasty wolves.
Lynch, Renaud and del Val now have more than enough material with which to keep us laughing. And, during a pell-mell finale, at the edge of our seats.
It perhaps must be acknowledged that the “secret life” element of this franchise seems to have been lost along the way; these various escapades are far more involving than the first film’s “while the owners are away, their critters will play” premise. That doesn’t really matter; this sequel is no less enjoyable for having morphed beyond such limitations. Renaud et alsimply are stuck with the title.
The film’s heart comes from the manner in which these crises, large and small, are handled. Ford’s stern — but eminently practical — Rooster proves just as valuable to Max, as Jack Palance was to Billy Crystal, in 1991’s City Slickers. Poor Gidget, terrified of all those wild-eyed cats — and who can blame her? — nonetheless accepts the responsibility of retrieving Max’s favorite toy.
And Snowball, nowhere near as brave or ferocious as he puts on, blossoms under Daisy’s feisty encouragement.
The circus subplot displays the most pathos, with the filmmakers straying perilously toward the edge of too much animal cruelty, in order to make their point. But they never set foot over that line, and the sweet-tempered Hu quickly becomes one of the film’s most engaging characters, despite not being able to talk. (The film’s domesticated stars “don’t speak wild animal.”)
Sergei is a monster, and his wolves are flat-out terrifying; Hu is the ultimate victim in serious distress. (I only hope this film doesn’t make impressionable children want a white tiger as a pet.)
Most of the first film’s remaining characters are reduced to fleeting cameos here: Pops, the elderly basset hound (Dana Carvey); dachshund Buddy (Hannibal Buress); and pug Mel (Bobby Moynihan). On the other hand, guinea pig Norman (Renaud) once again gets plenty of screen time, as the resident fixer and tech maestro. As before, you gotta love this gang’s update on the “twilight bark” network, from 101 Dalmatians.
The character animation has a slightly exaggerated cuteness that doesn’t try for the verisimilitude of realistic fur coats; these are clearly cartoon animals, albeit with carefully defined personalities shaped superbly by the well-cast voice talent. The character art stands out against the sparkling, big-city backdrop, which seems to cast a magical glow; this, in turn, is contrasted by the comfortable rural color palette of the farm setting.
Alexandre Desplat’s vibrant orchestral underscore pauses occasionally for musical in jokes: most hilariously John Williams’ “Superman Theme,” when Snowball first envisions himself a righter of wrongs; and Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit,” when Chloe succumbs to a dose of catnip. Other well-placed pop and rock anthems come from Stevie Wonder, ZZ Top, Jay-Z and Alicia Keys, and Jack Antonoff’s ferociously cool cover of Paul Simon’s “Me and Julie Down by the Schoolyard.”
This film is hilarious, warm-hearted and thoroughly enjoyable. (And do hang around for the short video clips in the end credits.) At an economical 86 minutes, it’s just the right length. May we soon get to adopt Pets 3.
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