Fran Magazine: Issue #95

A special guest issue from Claire about MOVIE DOGS

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Arthur the King

I don’t know about you, but I for one am sad to see the Bob Marley: One Love trailer fade into the ether, a pop culture staple since I saw Oppenheimer last July. A new trailer has taken its place, one whose frequency and relentless optimism feels much more memeable and memorable and that’s the trailer for Arthur the King.

Did you know “Mark Wahlberg Tough Mudder dog movie” is called Arthur the King? All I ever remember about this trailer is that they give the dog meatballs and he stops them from falling off a cliff. Simu Liu is there. So is Nathalie Emmanuel. There’s a Macklemore song. They show you the whole movie in the trailer. And yet — in part because I am a Regal Crown Club member — I will take my ass to go see this dumb movie if I have a free afternoon during its release which, get this, is in mid March. That’s right: we have another four weeks of the Arthur the King trailer.

This was all fresh in my mind when Claire sent over this blog about her experience with dog movies over the past year or so. Frankly, I’m inclined to think there’s more to discuss about Channing Tatum’s movie Dog than Poor Things, but that’s just me. Claire wrote for Fran Magazine about Middlemarch and The Lost Daughter. Today is also her birthday! So even if you’re not keeping up with the state of dog cinema, you should at least wish her a happy birthday.

More next week from me (Fran), but for now, here’s Claire…

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Therapy dogs

When franchises rule and mid-tier comedies can’t get made, many are asking: what will happen to the Dog Movies? Well, I have excellent news. Dog Movies are alive and, if not well, at least hanging in there, and moreover they have found a new function in our terrible, terrible age. 

I have been chewing on Dog (2022) since I watched it a year ago, on my Christmas flight to New Orleans. I’d had my eye on Dog since I saw the trailer earlier that year, which promised a textbook buddy-dog/road trip film with mediocre laughs, starring (and half-directed by) Channing Tatum.

I did not schlep to the theater for Dog, but it was a perfect fit for my flight, and I was secretly very excited for the excuse to watch it. But Dog was far from what I expected. Yes, it was a Dog Movie, yes, the laughs were just OK, but amid that peanut butter was a bitter pill, a theme, a message, about therapy.

Channing Tatum’s character (“Jackson Briggs,” the most made-up sounding army guy name I’ve literally ever heard) is a down-and-out veteran suffering PTSD, frequent panic attacks, and seizures. In order to prove himself fit to resume service despite his condition, he must drive Lulu — that’s right, the dog is a girl — to the funeral of her former owner, Brigg’s squad captain. Lulu herself served alongside the two in Afghanistan, and due to Lulu’s behavioral issues since retirement, Briggs is also instructed to deliver her to be euthanized after the funeral. Of course (SPOILER!!) that doesn’t happen, because Lulu teaches Briggs the meaning of friendship, and he adopts her.

What’s interesting about Briggs’ own struggle with mental illness, combined with his and Lulu’s prior history as platoon-mates, is that right off the bat they share a sort of trauma bond. Lulu is new to Briggs as a pet, but before that she was a peer, and one of the few who, on some level, understands exactly what he’s going through. The question of how to rehabilitate Lulu, and whether it is worth doing so, becomes the central conflict of Dog once the “I can’t believe I’m stuck with this guy!!” hijinks wear off, and turning the question back on Briggs himself is a natural next step.

The macho jerk with a sweet side, I admit, is a trope, but Dog takes Briggs a bit further. If you’ve been unlucky enough to witness a seizure, or god forbid have one yourself, you know that that alone can be a traumatizing event, and Brigg’s extreme vulnerability and fear in these moments are portrayed with surprising care. I also want to commend this film’s discussion of triggers and their requisite warnings, things we’ve become very accustomed to in recent years, in a way that reminds us what they are actually for: providing a means for those with sensitivities, be they trauma-based or otherwise, to engage with content in a safe and manageable way, or choose not to. Lulu’s violence is triggered by her PTSD, but Dog’s funeral scene, where Briggs holds Lulu during ceremonial gunshots, shows the difference preparation for a trigger can make for our response to it. ¹

Anyone with a beating heart will watch this scene and the subsequent one, where Briggs sullenly drives Lulu off to be euthanized, and see the injustice, despite all vicious behavior that came before: she isn’t a bad dog, she needs help! Our willingness to engage this logic time and again, in Dog Movies and in life, makes sense. The dog didn’t choose to go to war; she doesn’t deserve pain, she’s the victim of circumstance, irresponsibility, abuse, bad luck. Why it’s so easy to extend this benefit of the doubt to a dog that bites, and so hard to do so for a person, I think calls for a bit of reflection. And folks, Dog is here to do it!

Now to be fair, Dog is about rehabilitating veterans, and you may feel that Dog suggests Briggs and Lulu have “earned” the right to recovery, because heroism is what got them all fucked up to begin with.² An ungenerous reading of this movie says that its kindness is reserved for those who deserve it — the troops — and any warmth eked out of you should be directed at them specifically. But this isn’t just any movie, it’s a Dog Movie, so allow me to convince you otherwise.

Fast forward one year, my next Christmas flight to New Orleans. I see a dog in the thumbnail. I gleefully click Puppy Love (2023).

Puppy Love is essentially Knocked Up, but with dogs; that is, the dog gets knocked up. Neither the morality nor logistics of dog abortion³ are discussed, though the morality and logistics of the pregnancy are discussed at length (tldr: undescended testicles). What matters is, this unlikely duo are about to be dog grandparents!?! It’s an amusing rom-com premise, and as a rom-com I’d give it a B. The leads are attractive and seem to actually like each other despite their differences, unlike so many infuriating rom-com odd couples, but for a movie with a surprising amount of toilet jokes, it’s not that funny. Like Dog, though, Puppy Love aspires to more than comedy. Puppy Love is post-pandemic literature.

Our female human lead, Nicole (Lucy Hale), is a classic rom-com type: she excels at work but her personal life is a mess. She adopts a stray “tramp” and names him… Channing Tatum! Serendipity. Nicole’s love interest, and owner of the “lady” Chloe, is Max (Grant Gustin). Max’s character flaw is anxiety, and not your vanilla I-feel-awkward-at-parties anxiety, this is debilitating, agoraphobic anxiety, with a sprinkle of OCD for flavor. We learn that Max was always a “weird kid,” but that after quarantining alone for two years, he has developed severe difficulty interacting with others, and is at risk of losing his job because he cannot bring himself to return to work in person. 

Rarely if ever have I seen anxiety depicted this way in a “hot” character, let alone a hot man. While Briggs was a tox-masc asshole with a vulnerable side, Max is a soft boy all around. Meanwhile, his disorder is treated as the serious hindrance that it is, and never the butt of a joke. When he and Nicole are forced to become roommates (don’t ask, the plot of this movie is not that good lol), her lack of boundaries creates tension between them, and despite his overreactions to her disrupting his home — which aren’t overreactions at all when you consider his mental state — she always comes off the unreasonable one. Max’s adoption of Chloe is a recommendation from his therapist, who suggests that a therapy dog will help him practice conversing free of judgment, encourage him to get outside more, and be super cute. 

There are basically two types of personal service animals: those that perform specific tasks to assist persons with disabilities — seeing-eye dogs, seizure dogs, low insulin detecting dogs — and those whose “job” is to provide emotional support. Most “therapy dogs” are the latter, and any old shelter dog, like Chloe, could fulfill this role, whereas the former require special training prior to or throughout life with their disabled owner. We know this, intellectually, but I want to emphasize the fact that there is no tangible difference between Chloe, the therapy dog, and any other pet; the difference is in Max himself, and his need for the “prescription.” It would be equally accurate to say that my dog, who has comforted me during many depressive episodes, is an off-scrip therapy dog, as it would be equally-equally accurate to say that your pet, or anyone’s pet, in fact everyone’s pets, who have provided comfort and stability in uncomfortable and unstable times, are therapy pets, because providing comfort and stability is the primary function of pets, and the times we find ourselves in are inherently uncomfortable and unstable. What I’m saying is, dogs are therapy dogs. The phrase “emotional support pet” is like “chai tea.”

Now, this is not to diminish in any way the important work that these animals do, quite the opposite. We’re not all combat veterans, nor are we all agoraphobes, obsessive-compulsive, or depressed, but we are all fucking traumatized, by the pandemic, the climate crisis, Palestine… living on Earth sucks right now! Dog Movies grant permission to acknowledge that, and to accept help from someone who doesn’t question if they should give it. Yes, Max really needs his dog, but so do I. Don’t you? We call it unconditional, not “if-you-deserve-it” love, no no! Who deserves mental health care — who deserves health care? Who deserves care? “Unconditional” to dogs means yes, you too.

1. I’ve praised Does the Dog Die? In FranMag before, and here it is again, doubly on topic! I highly recommend this app whether you are sensitive, traumatized, or you just love the puppies.

2. The assumed goodness of their campaign in the Middle East is not interrogated. Uhhhhhh……

3. If you were wondering, dog (and cat) abortion is absolutely a thing, and it is routinely practiced in shelters to control the overpopulation of strays. This video from an amazing local organization explains the topic well.