Clifford the Big Red Dog
Paramount PicturesClifford is a big red dog. This latest feature from Walt Becker is exactly what it says on the tin. Clifford the Big Red Dog is just that. It is hard to engage with it on any level beyond that. It is what it is. But what it is, is a failure. The dog isn’t even that big. For Clifford to be of considerable size or extent, he must be larger than a house. He was in the television programme that this feature is based on. Light and fluffy ten-minute episodes guided Clifford the Big Red Dog in his debut outing, and from there he has spiralled into obscurity, primarily because his audience grew up. No one can stop the inevitable, crashing wheels of Hollywood. They have sniffed out source material ripe for the reviving and here they are: on the big screen at last.
A failure to capture the sincerity that oozes so charmingly from the likes of The Lego Movie or The Iron Giant is the immediate death knell for Clifford the Big Red Dog. Leading man Jack Whitehall feels out of place in this newfound ability to appear in big projects and do almost nothing for his time on screen. John Cleese opens this story of “two lost souls,” relocating them to New York City. It is never quite understood what that means. One is a dog whose family is stolen by animal control; the other is a man who lives in the back of a van. Prime living in New York City, granted, but Whitehall being straddled by an American accent is a bit strange. He plays ball, though. They all do. They are committed to getting in and getting out. To their credit, that is what they do.
Within Clifford the Big Red Dog is some innate desire to capture the beauty of friendship, founded so well in Homeward Bound. Becker’s work is keen to take a neutral angle on absolutely anything. Thematically and characteristically, he sits on the fence as splinters settle in. He has no angle for the hero or villain, cannot appreciate the need for pacing and is never clear of falling into considerable generics as his camera swings and establishes a variety of locations time and time again. It will do little to distract its target audience, and lots to annoy the parents trying to snooze away in the seat next to their vaguely entertained offspring.
Whilst Tom & Jerry failed to capture the light-hearted focus of animals tormenting one another, Clifford the Big Red Dog forgets to tap into the nostalgic foundation it hopes to spring from, and comes out looking confused and unfocused. But this is a film for the future. For the young and snot-nosed. These are indeed the dog days of film. The Clifford the Big Red Dog days of film. A dark and lonely time for family entertainment. The characters are not real people, they are segments that children will be vaguely entertained by. The odd eastern European neighbour who drinks tins of milk in the hallway, the magician whose greatest trick is some mind-numbing piece to camera that will charm the children and disassociate the adults.