Year of the Dog

‘Year of the Dog’ is a sad movie. And not sad in a good way, if there is such a thing. No, unfortunately, it’s sad in a pathetic way. It’s a depressing film, especially since I believe it was meant to be funny. But someone should tell the screenwriter that quirky does not always equal funny. In this case, quirky manages to equate to unreal. Plastic. Totally unbelievable. In other words, fake.

Molly Shannon (formerly of Saturday Night Live fame) stumbles through the entire movie with a silly grin plastered on her face. It’s almost as if she’s been kidnapped, lobotomized and forced to live in a world that’s slightly off-kilter. And if she stops smiling, if she shows some awareness that things aren’t right, she’ll be killed. Perhaps she’ll be killed and processed into nuggets like the chickens she’s so concerned about.

I suppose I’m confusing this movie with another ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ remake - except we get Molly Shannon instead of Nicole Kidman and the zombies are vegan. It’s just as frightening, except it’s not meant to be a scary film.

There’s so much wrong, it’s hard to catalogue. There’s the neighbour who’s conveniently hunting-obsessed. The egoistical yet strangely insecure boss with no sense of empathy. The co-worker who talks about nothing but her quest for marriage. The brother’s family that personifies the crassness of suburbia. The SPCA worker who’s been so badly damaged by a cult-ridden childhood, he chooses celibacy over any type of relationship.

There’s no one to like, nobody to identify with. All the characters are one-dimensional prototypes of reality. I kept waiting for the lead character to come to some realisation. But she just falls deeper and deeper into the morass of misplaced emotion. She gets drunk and gives her sister-in-law’s fur coats a soaking bath. She has a complete breakdown and tries to stab her neighbour.

“I just wanted him to feel what it’s like to be hunted.”

That’s the huge insight of the movie. One would be better off going for a walk, with or without a dog.