Movie Reviews from
By John Ruch
© 1996 CM Media, Inc.
The Truth About Cats
and Dogs (1996)
As a rule, the modern romantic comedy should be treated like a rabid bat set loose upon the world. And “The Truth About Cats and Dogs” falls inescapably into that category.
It stars “The Larry Sanders Show’s” Janeane Garofalo as a radio veterinarian who convinces a glamorous friend (Uma Thurman) to impersonate her in a misguided plan to impress a prospective boyfriend.
In me, it evoked most of the usual responses to romantic comedies. Nostalgia for a time when screwball comedies weren’t just improbable but snappy and smart as well. Boredom at the baldly formulaic plot. Anger at the audience’s embarrassed giggles and groans at any and all topics sexual (though it helps me understand the prevalence of teen pregnancy and STD proliferation). Impatience with Garofalo’s character’s patently groundless self-esteem problem and her illogical plans to remedy it.
But here’s the truth about “Cats and Dogs”: If it’s an insult to your intelligence—and it is—at least it’s a well-phrased one. There’s a refreshing edge and bite to the film, for which I think several people can take credit.
One is director Michael Lehmann, of “Heathers” and “Hudson Hawk.” He’s not a particularly good director overall, but he works within the studio structure with a rare amount of bravery. He’ll try new things—more importantly in this case, he’ll let his cast and writer try new things.
That writer, Audrey Wells, indeed deserves credit. Her themes are obvious; her biggest laugh is based on Uma having to stick her finger up a turtle’s cloaca.
But as a first-time writer, she approaches the dull formula with new vigor. Stand-out is a phone-sex scene between Garofalo and prospective beau Brian (Ben Chaplin), which manages to be sweet and innocent and, though this may sound funny, taboo-busting all at once. If you stop giggling long enough to pay attention, that is.
The characters lack any serious development, more pieced together as necessity dictated. (Wells wants Garofalo to seem brainy, so she has her play the violin—like Sherlock Holmes or something.) Their motivations are battered apart by the story’s oscillations between screwball whimsy and utter naturalism. But all three leads do the absolute best with what they’re given.
Garofalo is especially impressive. I’ve liked her work in “Larry Sanders” and “Bye Bye, Love” especially, but I wasn’t sure she could carry a lead role. That doubt dispelled, it remains to be seen if she can play something outside her sardonic persona. In fairness, she shows more vulnerability and depth here than ever before.
About five minutes before the credits, one of the two women in front of me got up and started to leave. Her companion suggested the film wasn’t over yet, to which she replied, “I can tell already (how it will end).”
And I’m
sure she could. I could. Anybody could, which is the point of these things.
This one just goes down extra smoothly. It’s like a blood test performed by an
exceptionally skilled nurse—it’s not nearly as painful as usual.