This is a common warning in certain circles that sharing custody a pet post-separation is a recipe for trouble. The consensus suggests such situations hinder individuals from healing, create logistical nightmares, lead to tension, and prove frustrating across the board. Seemingly, and in a twist suited to a direct-to-platform film, it reportedly leads to the canine in question to experience sadness.
Not to downplay the emotional well-being of our pets – countless people attest to their deep emotional capacity. For a standout portrayal in dog sorrow, one need only look recent cinema. There is little doubt that a dog of Merv's nature, a spirited little dog portrayed by the canine actor Gus, would struggle coping with divided living arrangements. The idea of basing a full holiday film on such a setup works effectively is a questionable prospect.Predictable Foundations
To its credit, Merv, written by Dane Clark and Linsey Stewart and directed by playwright Jessica Swale, makes no grand claims anything more than what it is. This is a Christmas movie from a major tech-and-media conglomerate – the complexity is limited. Its storyline is destined to be uncomplicated: former spouses Russ, played by Charlie Cox and Anna, portrayed by Zooey Deschanel, forced to acknowledge that their post-breakup gloom is surpassed by their dog's, take a therapeutic trip to a dog-friendly resort. Once there, as expected, they will surely realize the idea that they are better together. Side characters – played by Chris Redd, Jasmine Mathews, and others – fulfill roles quirky, thinly written, or broadly comic. The film's look is reminiscent of a branded content, with a wintry atmosphere that is clearly manufactured – exemplified by obvious snow effects piled on green trees as North Carolina substitutes for a cold December city.
The Dog's Domain
If these standard ingredients come together into a pleasant experience hinges on the actors' work and an acceptance of comfort viewing. For the comfort factor, Merv targets a specific viewer – those people who scroll endlessly for pet content. Audiences receive a series of scenes focused on the pet. The primary selling point is Merv himself, and though it results in some clunky cuts between the pet's "lines" and people's faces, the movie succeeds in showing canine party antics, dog depression, and, finally, pure puppy happiness.
The Human Element
This level of success does not extend for the human side of the story. Its style wavers between emotional depth, broad humor, formulaic romance, and physical comedy, never fully committing to a consistent feel. The fault lies not with the actor playing Russ, who is admirably committed the silliness and cringe required by the unusual premise. He brings a endearing lack of ego that offers much of the film's charm for this seemingly ideal couple. Her co-star Deschanel, true to her usual style, injects a certain millennial quirkiness that will click for some but not others. Her Anna seems a touch too detached, particularly when paired with Cox's heartfelt sincerity. (It should be noted, the canine performer manages looking despondent – not quite a canine thespian of that caliber, he is still a scene-stealer.)
The story strives to provide depth to the couple's history for scenes without their pet – a regrettable choice, since the dog is undoubtedly the best part of this feel-good picture. Unsurprisingly, it just about gets by. The catalyst for their original breakup could have been more nuanced with more screen time and fewer direct statements. In the end, Merv is slight and sweet, fulfilling precisely what you anticipate. Making a film on this shared-custody premise is not terrible – though I wouldn't call it a stroke of genius.
- Merv becomes available on the Amazon platform this December.
