'Beverly Hills Chihuahua': No Howls of Laughter Here 

By Martha Brockenbrough
MSN Cinemama

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See also: Cinemama's review of "Nick and Norah" 

There are people who think it's adorable to see a tiny dog dressed in sweaters, booties and matching tam-o'-shanters. There are also people who find great humor in the spectacle of a tiny, taco-hustling dog with a Mexican accent.

I am not those people.

And so it's very possible that "Beverly Hills Chihuahua" is not my movie. I can barely even muster the energy to spell Chihuahua correctly.

But it is the one movie my kids, their cousins and all their friends are begging to see, which gives me a hunch this Disney offering will be a big dog (in the positive sense) in the theaters. Judged by its story and script, though, this one never should have left the purse.

"Beverly Hills Chi ... (oh, whatever)" tells the story of the snow-white Chloe (voiced by Drew Barrymore), a stereotypical pampered pooch who's left behind with a dog sitter while her owner, Viv (Jamie Lee Curtis), goes on a whirlwind European business trip to promote her cosmetics line.

The dog sitter is Viv's niece, the equally pampered Rachel (Piper Perabo). Instead of taking Chloe in for her regularly scheduled pedicure, Rachel and two bikini-wearing friends decide to road-trip it to Mexico in their convertible BMW. Chloe and her diamond-studded Harry Winston collar come along for the adventure.

But then -- shock! -- the dog disappears, and Rachel spends the rest of the movie trying to find her, along with any shred of common sense and humanity that might remain beneath her Jessica-Simpson-esque hair extensions. Meanwhile, Chloe tries to find her way home -- an educational adventure that leads her to the dazzling epiphany that booties on dogs are silly.

The humor in this movie depends on how amused you are by tiny dogs wearing diamonds and Jackie O knockoffs, and whether you find Mexican accents and other stereotypical humor inherently funny. If you do, well, this is your movie, complete with a practically hallucinogenic, quasi-religious scene in which a stampede of Chihuahuas living in a secret Aztec ruin pledges to restore dignity to their breed.

If this doesn't sound like your bowl of kibble, congratulations. You have taste. We might be in the minority, though. I attended a screening full of laughing adults, and the twentysomething guy sitting next to me kindly repeated all the lines he found funny, just in case those of us around him hadn't heard or wanted, for some reason, to be sapped of our hope for the human race.

What's in It for Kids

When I was a child, I used to dress my cat and carry him around in a basket. I did this to the cat because there was no tiny dog available, although, if truth be told, I used to make my younger sister put socks on her hands and feet and crawl around and pretend to be that little dog of my dreams. I called her Ozzy.

My point, and I do have one, is that kids think animals in human clothing are hilarious. Why this persists past childhood in some humans is a subject for a therapist, not a film critic. Add the spectacle of talking animals on top of that, and you have solid-gold comedy for 6-year-olds.

Fortunately, at least from the perspective of someone many years past first grade, "Beverly Hills Chiwhatever" keeps the comedy clean. Though there is some doggy humor, it is limited to licking and some sensual scratching. We are spared the scatology in this PG-rated flick. Thank heaven for purse-sized blessings.

This is not to say that everything is a delight for children. There is a scary Doberman voiced by Edward James Olmos. There are unpleasant Mexican stereotypes (a dog-fighting scene, and a rat-plagued general store) that, frankly, are lazy ways to evoke fear and laughter.

But, on the whole, kids will find this movie funny.

What's in It for Parents

What is knee-slapping for 6-year-olds very often is not the same for their parents. This movie is case in point. The script is witless, and far beneath the talents of Curtis, Olmos and Andy Garcia (as a fallen police dog). It's even beneath the talents of Cheech Marin, who plays a thieving rat.

Maybe it would have been funnier to see rich people spending a fortune on their dogs and their own petty indulgences when the country wasn't on the brink of financial collapse.

But probably not.

This movie hangs on the slim idea that the little dogs in purses are an easy target for humor. Well, duh. I suppose it could be a good kind of humor if it served a larger point about how wasteful and myopic we can be.

But "Beverly Hills Chihuahua," alas, fails to recognize that or demonstrate any sort of artistic vision. Indeed, at the end of the movie, the dog is still dressed in diamonds and designer duds, even if she is willing to tongue-kiss a former stray. As a result, the movie is a waste of time for all but the most easily amused. 

Want more?

Read Cinemama's review of "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist"

Take a look at another review for "Beverly Hills Chihuahua"

Martha Brockenbrough is MSN's Cinemama, for the Parents' Movie Guide. She is also the author of Things That Make Us [Sic], a guide to funny bad grammar published by St. Martin's press. She also blogs about family life for Cozi.com, and writes an educational humor column for Encarta. Check out her Web site. 

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