IMDb #193 Review: Hachi: A Dog's Tale (2009)

Source: Wikipedia

This super-saccharine sorta-true story tastes like a marshmallow pie with a needle in it.

A music prof picks up an abandoned puppy at a train station. The wife freaks out--she cranks up the marital strife thermostat until puppy love infects her too. Nobody claims the pup; the pound would give him two weeks, then ice him. So, adoption remains an option. The pet grows on the family like a fuzzy tumor.

The titular pooch, as the hero dude discovers using the arcane pre-Google Internet, is a rare and ancient breed from Japan. His token Japanese friend/kendo buddy (what, you don't have one?) says the breed is smart, loyal, and sucks at fetch.

Instead, Hachi proves adept at escaping: dig under the fence, hop over it, or even open the latch like a tiny furry velociraptor. He experiences the abounding love of the small town's inhabitants via knee-high shaky-cam monochromatic dog-o-vision.

Merely commuting to work becomes a recipe for canine hijinks.

But the dog grows up. The kids grows up. This being a family picture, innocuous physical comedy spontaneously generates. Such as some dude awkwardly attempting to woo the musician's daughter.

THEN TRAGEDY STRIKES. Without warning, with staggering consequences, as it tends to.

The second half of the movie is nonstop sentimental longing for the first half. The lilting piano refrain tugs on the heartstrings with dull little teeth.

Gimmicky? Hell to the yes. It's indisputably crack for dog lovers, laced with sentimentality and possibly tear gas.

The film sparkles with family friendliness, aside from implied marital intercourse and, you know, acknowledgement that death exists.

So we watch nice people be nice people, then suffer and die for no explicit reason. The proffered treatment for grief is to dig your heels into the dirt and never let go of the happy past. Because of course that'll bring it back. Nah, it's just easier than moving on.

On which note, moving on.

93 minutes.