Bad
Dogs
Once again, Disney turns a good book into
steaming mush.
In 1994, author Gary Paulsen published the book Winterdance,
a gripping account of his participation in the Iditarod, a grueling 1,180-mile
dogsled race across
Winterdance is very easy
to imagine on the big screen -- it reads like Vertical Limit as directed
by John Milius -- but the movie it has become plays like a parody of all that's
corrupt about the
"Hey,
you know, this is great, but a middle-aged protagonist won't sell. How about we
make him young?"
"Dogsledding
is cool, but why is it always white guys that do it? Let's make him
black."
"Whoa,
that's too radical. How about half-black? We'll balance it out by casting a
rapper, like maybe that Sisqo kid, as his best friend."
"And
what if we use computer animation to make the dogs smile and wink at each
other? That'd just be too cute!"
As if
all that isn't bad enough, the Iditarod itself has been excised, which is sort
of the equivalent of doing The Perfect Storm without that whole boat
thing; the race is mentioned only in passing, replaced by a shorter, much less
dangerous one called the "Arctic Challenge." Instead, we get The
Shipping News on stupid pills, with yet another dorky bachelor (Cuba
Gooding Jr.) heading to the frozen north to resolve his absent-father issues
with the help of an improbably beautiful local girl (Joanna Bacalso of Dude,
Where's My Car?) and a crusty old trouper (James Coburn, acting like he's
in a real movie).
Gooding,
who plays a dentist named Ted, spends most of the movie falling off dogsleds,
through ice and off hillsides, at least when he's not being mauled by dogs or
attacked by a bear (whichever writer thought to play these scenes for laughs
ought to be locked in a cage with a wild animal for 10 minutes). Having only
recently discovered he's adopted, Ted journeys to his late birth-mother's home
in Alaska to find he's inherited her champion dogsled team, and that his father
is Coburn, whose character is named Thunder Jack because "he got hit by
thunder, twice."
It
gets worse. Ted's adopted mother (Nichelle Nichols) has always suspected he may
have white blood in him, because he likes blue cheese and Michael Bolton.
Bolton himself provides the movie's only laugh in a cameo, but that laugh
sticks in your craw when you realize that four of the great white dope's songs
are on the film's soundtrack, including "Time, Love and Tenderness"
as the triumphant climactic number.
Retained
from Paulsen's account is the idea that the lead dog in the team, named Devil
in the book but a less inflammatory Demon here, is somewhat malevolent, though
this being a Disney movie, even the bad dog mellows out by the end. Also
retained is a sequence involving the dogs pulling a car as strength training
and an unfortunate skunk encounter. Sledding action, however, is kept to a
minimum, and what little there is is so blatantly shot on a soundstage it fails
to thrill even slightly. Paulsen is probably crying all the way to the bank,
but real mushers are likely to feel gravely insulted.
It's too early in the year yet to call Snow
Dogs the worst film of 2002 and have that statement mean anything, but it's
quite likely going to be the biggest betrayal of its source material we'll see
for a good while (even the trailer for Adam Sandler's Mr. Deeds Goes to Town
remake induces more laughs). If you've never read the book, Snow Dogs
may simply be a stupid waste of your time. But if you know the source, it's an
abomination.