MY DOG STUPID (B) - Alternatively cutting and cute, this adaptation of a John Fante novel by French director Yvan Attal never really settles on a consistent tone as it explores the psyche of a writer who regrets the wife and family he created 25 years ago, an entire brood he blames for the fact that he has never written anything good in that quarter century of domestic purgatory.
Mourning the death of his dog at the teeth of a neighboring cur and cherishing his last remaining link to his bachelor past (a sports car), Henri (director Attal himself) mopes around, lamenting the lack of sex with his lovely wife, Cecile (the always wonderful Charlotte Gainsbourg), and the mooching of his four children, mostly adults now, who still live with them in the beach house bought with his successful first book. He pines for a certain spot in Rome, where he first found his muse but never could recapture it.
On a rainy night, a big, dumb, horny dog appears on their doorstep and refuses to leave. The huge, wrinkled monster vigorously humps the daughter's boyfriend and is soon dubbed Stupid and tagged with a reputation for gay sexual assault. This childish and somewhat offensive theme -- Henri likes to take the dog places and threaten people with canine assault, har-de-har -- is a lame construct that persistently drags down the proceedings. A few other contrivances -- like Cecile ghost-writing term papers for their intellectually dim son -- give this a sitcom feel at times.
But the more clever idea is that while Henri finds the dog annoying, his children really despise Stupid and begin, one by one, to move out of the house. Bonus! The problem is, Henri and Stupid are further alienating Cecile, piercing even her defenses of a bottle of wine each night to wash down her anti-depressants. Henri had better be careful of what he wishes for. He may yet find out that the freedom of bachelorhood is not as fun when you are pushing 50 and wandering around a big empty house.
This mid-life crisis gets Henri writing again, but at what price? This is a charming little tale -- it makes you want to read Fante's novella (one of two under the title West of Rome, a title that gets playfully mocked here). And Attal and Gainsbourg are perfect together. It could just use a lot less silliness.
BONUS TRACK
From late in the film, this melancholy version of "And I Love Her" from Brad Mehldau:
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