‘Racing in the Rain’ all wet
Saccharine meets sentimental, with tail wags
“The Art of Racing in the Rain” begins with an old ailing dog named Enzo collapsed beside a urine puddle and narrating in the bewilderingly articulate voice of Kevin Costner. We’ve come a long way from “Dancing with Wolves,” old boy.
Since, “Enzo’s owner is,” is the wrong way to put it, let’s say that Enzo’s human life partner is the all-tooaptly named Denny Swift (Milo Ventimiglia of TV’s “This Is Us”), a Seattlebased race car driver, who also works as a mechanic and racing instructor. Enzo and Denny meet when Enzo is a pup (the film backtracks to the “beginning” after the opening, a ploy I hate because now you know we’re going back to that puddle). Denny likes to sit on his sofa with Enzo watching big race car events and telling Enzo what the drivers are doing, right and wrong.
You may think that sounds idiotic. But Enzo and Denny are a match made in dog-human heaven until a young woman named Eve (Amanda Seyfreid) comes between them. Eve’s rich parents Maxwell (Martin Donovan) and Trish (Kathy Baker), who Enzo dubs “the twins,” do not like Denny. They feel he is not a good fit for schoolteacher Eve and do not like his chosen profession. They
may have a point. I mean, who marries a race car driver?
Denny and Eve marry, nonetheless. Enzo’s attitude toward Eve changes when she gives birth to Zoe (Ryan Kiera Armstong), who becomes Enzo’s second best friend in the world, and we see lots of romping and frolicking. Enzo, we are reminded at regular intervals, dreams of being reincarnated as a human being as the Mongolians believe dogs are. Ruh-ro.
“The Art of Racing in the Rain” was directed by Englishman Simon Curtis, whose films I have liked (“Goodbye Christopher Robin”) and disliked (“My Week with Marilyn”). The Seattle-set-and-shot “Racing in the Rain” would not seem to be his cup of tea, or mine.
The film is based on the 2008 novel by Garth Stein. It was a New York Times bestseller for 156 weeks. I assure you I am not paid enough to read that kind of book. The film is full of life lessons derived from Formula One and GT racing delivered to us in the voice of a dog guru, especially lessons about, yes, racing in the rain. Excuse me, but pass the barf bag. I did not get the whole ”zebra demon” thing, either (don’t ask).
The film is a mixture of the saccharine, the sentimental, the canine, the philosophical and the melodramatic. It suggests a doggy poop-joke, soapopera version of “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.”
Denny is constantly hard up, even though he drives a mint BMW 3.0 CSI and wears what looks like a Rolex Daytona wristwatch. Acute happiness tempered by annoying inlaws will be interrupted by, of course, life-threatening illness and a battle for custody of little Zoe.
Ventimiglia brings that hail-fellow-well-met/ blue-collar likability. He and Seyfreid have some chemistry, if not much. Gary Cole is completely wasted in the supporting cast. I don’t suppose we can blame screenwriter Mark Bomback for the awful dialogue. But we have to blame someone.
(“The Art of Racing in the Rain” contains a graphic dog poop scene.)