This is a widely held belief for numerous people that jointly caring for a dog post-separation is a recipe for trouble. Most will argue such arrangements prevent individuals from finding closure, create logistical nightmares, lead to tension, and prove frustrating for everyone involved. As it turns out, as a development fit for a direct-to-platform film, it can even cause the dogs themselves to feel down.
Not to downplay the mental health of our pets – countless people attest to their deep emotional capacity. If you need prime example in dog sorrow, simply recall a past film. I firmly believe that a dog such as Merv, a scruffy terrier type played by a talented dog named Gus, would find it difficult adapting to divided living arrangements. Whether this premise an entire Christmas romance around this situation works effectively is debatable at best.Standard Holiday Fare
Honestly, Merv, crafted by its screenwriters and helmed by playwright Jessica Swale, never aspires to be deeper than what it is. We have here a seasonal offering from a major tech-and-media conglomerate – the depth remains surface-level. The narrative is destined to be uncomplicated: exes Russ, played by Charlie Cox and Anna (Zooey Deschanel), realizing that their individual funk is surpassed by their dog's, take a therapeutic trip to a dog-friendly resort. There, inevitably, they will presumably rediscover the idea that they are better together. Ensemble players – including Chris Redd, Jasmine Mathews, and others – serve as quirky, thinly written, or broadly comic. Visually carries the feel of a platform's in-house production, with a Christmas setting that is clearly manufactured – exemplified by flurries surrounding verdant foliage as North Carolina substitutes for the Northeast.
Where the Film Shines
If these predictable parts coalesce into something enjoyable depends on the execution and an acceptance of easy entertainment. Regarding the second aspect, Merv knows its audience – the kind who scroll endlessly for dog videos. The film delivers a plethora of adorable dog montages. The main attraction is the canine star, and though it results in some clunky cuts between what the dog does and human reaction, the movie succeeds in showing canine party antics, canine sorrow, and, in the end, doggie joy.
The Human Element
This level of success is not earned for the romantic plot. The film's approach wavers between emotional depth, wacky comedy, standard rom-com beats, and physical comedy, not quite landing a single genre. No blame falls on the actor playing Russ, who is fully game the humiliating and funny demanded of the unusual premise. His performance contains a endearing lack of ego that provides a significant portion of the appeal for this ostensibly perfect couple. Anna's portrayer, in her typical fashion, injects a certain millennial quirkiness that will either resonate with viewers. The character can feel a little too aloof, especially when alongside Cox's heartfelt sincerity. (On another note, the canine performer is convincing at looking despondent – not quite Messi from that acclaimed drama, he remains a very good boy.)
The film attempts to give weight to the couple's history for scenes without their pet – a bit of a pity, since Merv is easily the best part of this cute-aiming movie. As one might predict, it achieves only baseline competence. The cause for the split might seem more grounded and mature with less exposition and more subtle storytelling. Ultimately, Merv is light and sugary, hitting all its marks. Creating a movie on this shared-custody premise is not terrible – but it's hardly a brilliant concept.
- Merv premieres on Prime Video this December.
