Oy! Chihuahua.
Silly, sometimes stupid “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” follows Chloe, the prissy purebred of the title, on a journey through Mexico when she goes missing.
On her homeward-bound trek, a friend will be made. Enemies two-legged and four-legged will give chase. Filth will be encountered for the first time. Lessons will be learned about her tiny but noble breed and the power of her inner bark.
And, yes, love will wag its tail when Papi, a handsomely muscular Chihuahua and his not-hard-on- the-eyes owner head south to help find Chloe.
At least part of this ridiculous movie works.
Consider it a flash of idiocy that, faced with seeing Greg Kinnear’s timely David vs. Goliath drama “A Flash of Genius,” about inventor Robert Kearns and his battle with automakers, or this strictly kid comedy featuring canines with moving mouths, I opted for the latter.
That choice didn’t come without curiosity. After all, what to make of a reverse-immigration saga about a dog breed often depicted with an iffy Spanish accent dreamed up by people in a town where the new majority isn’t Anglo (like most folk making decisions about big-screen images) but Latino?
The casting of George Lopez, Andy Garcia and Edward James Olmos helped mitigate some worry. They must know what they’re doing. And this isn’t the first dog outing for director Raja Gosnell. “Scooby-Doo” I and II feature a dog, sort of.
Written by Analisa LaBianco and Jeff Bushnell, “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” is more cluttered than offensive. A subplot about a Harry Winston diamond collar is nearly as excessive as the doggie bling itself.
Still, there is one delightful side trip in which Placido Domingo makes a touchingly loony appearance as a long-haired Chihuahua named Monte. There are also a handful of quotable lines. “Where there’s a piñata, there’s a stick,” an iguana tells his rat friend. Who can argue with that?
But the bar seems set low enough for a short-legged protagonist to leap.
Drew Barrymore provides the voice and sass of Chloe. Jamie Lee Curtis plays Vivian, the overly coutured dog’s owner-caretaker- mommy. Curtis looks fabulous playing the makeup entrepreneur who leaves Chloe in the care of her just-as-pampered niece Rachel. That’s pretty much all that can be said in her favor. Not because Curtis isn’t sharp but because Viv’s relationship with Chloe is treated with a kind of underlying contempt. Think a kinder but just as neurotic Leona Helmsley and her Maltese heir, Trouble.
Lopez and Garcia give their characters real, well, character.
Papi is steady on his four paws. Same goes for owner Sam (Manolo Cardona), a landscaper. When Rachel (Piper Perabo) speaks to Sam in mauled Spanglish, we know she’s the dope. When Chloe rebuffs Papi, we know likewise.
As the action relocates to Mexico, Andy Garcia provides the weary wisdom of Delgado, one of those gloriously regal German shepards. Not only is he ready for his close-up, of which there are many; he’s ready for his flashback. Once a police dog, a bust gone bad has left him damaged.
Chloe meets Delgado at the dogfights in Mexico City.
Yes, “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” goes were Michael Vick and Mexican director Alejandro González Iñárritu have gone.
In an “Amores Perros”-light sequence, a collection of dogs (none of them pit bulls) wait in pens for their turn in a ring surrounded by laughing, loud human spectators.
Chloe is thrown into the ring with El Diablo (Olmos), a malevolent Doberman. (“I swear I’m not a breed stereotype, I just play one onscreen,” would be the tenor of his late-night talk-show rounds.)
The camera angle showing cashmere-sweatered Chloe quaking in her leather booties from El Diablo’s point of view is hilarious.
But there’s something strange about the whole idea. Dogfights are funny? Mexican men celebrating ringside is good stuff for kids?
I’m confused. So is the movie.
Film critic Lisa Kennedy: 303-954-1567 or lkennedy@denverpost.com; also on blogs.denverpostcom/madmoviegoer
