I caught this on WGN and wound up watching it because out of 300+ channels on cable, there was nothing else worth watching. My first impression was formed by the syrupy background music that played almost continuously throughout the film. If it had lyrics, they would be, "Open up some Kleenex and just cry, cry, cry." I cried, all right, but for the wrong reasons. Any film that involves the use of animals inevitably includes harming said animals, and My Dog Skip was no exception. From the graphic hunting death of a deer to the verbal/physical abuse of the dog, this project could not have been pleasant for the title character, who out-acted all his human counterparts. Keep in mind the fact that movies are only fictional where people are concerned. Animals only experience it as real-life mistreatment that they cannot comprehend.
The plot can be summarized in two words: Who cares? It's a coming-of-age tale about a boy named Willie and his terrier Skip in small-town 1940s Mississippi. Willie has growing pains. He has to contend with a stern father, the town bullies, his complete inability to play baseball, an inexplicable, mostly one-sided friendship with a WWII veteran who is painted as the town pariah, and a first love named Rivers, to whom we never find out what happens. Most of the characters are completely forgettable, and the narrative consists of loosely-pasted vignettes of a dreary childhood. I only saw this movie last night, and I don't remember much of anything except being surprised to learn that, in the c. 1945 South, white families could watch young black men playing baseball after dark. (Read Maya Angelou if you don't understand what I'm saying here.)
A violent scene leaves the viewer feeling lousy, after which the story just peters out. We see Willie rowing his girlfriend on a pond--probably an allusion to his Rhodes scholarship, which requires athletic ability--and then he suddenly grows up and blows town, leaving the aging Skip all by himself. If the film's hypocritical concluding drivel doesn't make you want to throw up, then nothing ever can. Comparatively speaking, Old Yeller was more cherished than ol' Skip.
I don't recommend this film to animal lovers of any age, particularly children, because they won't understand its conclusion. I'm not even sure that I do, if for no other reason than to wonder how in the hell a dimwit like Willie ever made it into Oxford.
The plot can be summarized in two words: Who cares? It's a coming-of-age tale about a boy named Willie and his terrier Skip in small-town 1940s Mississippi. Willie has growing pains. He has to contend with a stern father, the town bullies, his complete inability to play baseball, an inexplicable, mostly one-sided friendship with a WWII veteran who is painted as the town pariah, and a first love named Rivers, to whom we never find out what happens. Most of the characters are completely forgettable, and the narrative consists of loosely-pasted vignettes of a dreary childhood. I only saw this movie last night, and I don't remember much of anything except being surprised to learn that, in the c. 1945 South, white families could watch young black men playing baseball after dark. (Read Maya Angelou if you don't understand what I'm saying here.)
A violent scene leaves the viewer feeling lousy, after which the story just peters out. We see Willie rowing his girlfriend on a pond--probably an allusion to his Rhodes scholarship, which requires athletic ability--and then he suddenly grows up and blows town, leaving the aging Skip all by himself. If the film's hypocritical concluding drivel doesn't make you want to throw up, then nothing ever can. Comparatively speaking, Old Yeller was more cherished than ol' Skip.
I don't recommend this film to animal lovers of any age, particularly children, because they won't understand its conclusion. I'm not even sure that I do, if for no other reason than to wonder how in the hell a dimwit like Willie ever made it into Oxford.
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