During his first-ever stakeout, a small-town cop sits in his car with the only witness to a murder. The witness is a dog, a big, ugly, smelly mastiff, and the cop’s only sanity-saving device is to free-associate on whatever subjects come to his mind, which range from some helpful advice on the dog’s drooling problem to fond remembrances of an almost-forgotten 1960s TV show with talking chimps.
That the actor who plays the cop is Tom Hanks has a lot to do with why this is the most appealing scene in Turner & Hooch, the latest grown-up variation of the boy-and-his-dog story. Hanks’s playing is so wonderfully fluid, so inventive, that he lends the scene an air of breezy improvisation.
The rest of the movie should be so inventive. It’s redundant in its very concept: Just a few months ago, we had K-9, a dreadful film about a cop who was partnered with a dog. The cop didn’t like the dog at first, but of course he grew to love the beast.
In Turner & Hooch, Turner (Hanks) isn’t partnered with the canine, but he does need to bring Hooch into his house and keep him around for possible culprit identification. The man-dog interaction has a familiar ring to it, despite Hanks’s best efforts (he taunts the hapless dog, “This is what you can do when you’ve got thumbs!”). The obligatory love interest, played here by Mare Winningham (as a sympathetic veterinarian), fares somewhat better.
The script bears the credits of some of Hollywood’s highest priced writers, who together have managed to create a property utterly without any personality. For instance, the Hanks character begins the film as a compulsive neatness freak; he learns to relax because of the dog’s friendly slovenliness. Only problem is, this feels like one of those conflicts that writers dream up in order to give a story bite; it’s artificial.
Director Roger Spotiswoode has shown an offbeat comic touch in the past (check out The Best of Times on video), but he can’t do much more than make this slick package look good. When the introduction of Hooch is accompanied by slow motion and the strains of “Also Sprach Zarathustra” (aka the 2001 theme), you know it’s a desperate moment. Hooch, for his part, performs like a champ. In real life a De Bordeaux named Beasley, he is a frightful creature.
First published in the Herald, August 3, 1989
Hanks said somewhere that this was a key film for him, in the sense that it forced him to truly be inventive and original (or something like that) in his acting, because his co-star was an animal, and that he was proud of his work here. That doesn’t mean I have to like the movie.