★★★

It’s the vulgarity of Seth MacFarlane’s bromantic comedy Ted that comes to mind when watching Strays. That, rather than more obvious overlaps with the more wholesome likes of Homeward Bound and The Incredible Journey. Both by Disney. Certainly, a wilfully – gleefully, even – unnecessary blitzkrieg of F-bombs within the opening ten minutes puts pay to any notion that the film might offer up family friendly canine fun. The wilderness of penis, poo and pee-ff gags that follow merely do to hammer home the point. Strays puts the ‘R’ in grrrr. Disney it is not.

Comparisons to Ted go further than a profligate relationship with profanities, however. Strays too toys with the cinematic language of irresistible cuteness to subvert expectation, amuse and still land a surprising emotional punch. MacFarlane aped stuffed bears. Josh Greenbaum has a ball with man’s best friend. An impressive blend of real and computer generated dogs, no less, and each fluffier and cuter than the last. Until they open their mouths and split their legs, of course. The verbalising animation here is just as strange and uncanny as ever was but proves broadly convincing. A game and spritely cast deserve much credit in this.

Will Ferrell leads, voicing Reggie, a chronically naive border terrier who is convinced that his awful life is one ‘best day ever’ after the next. Reggie’s devotion to his owner is the film’s tragic core. This is Will Forte’s stoner jerk Doug, who makes little secret of his canine contempt and blames Reggie for the breakdown of his adulterous past life. If only dogs could speak English. In Reggie’s eyes, Doug ‘loves me so much he doesn’t even have a job’. It is only when Doug finally abandons Reggie in Atlanta, three hours from home, that the penny finally drops. Even then, it takes the intervention of a sexually liberated and streetwise Boston Terrier (Jamie Foxx’s Bug), badass Australian Shepherd (Isla Fisher’s Maggie) and well endowed Great Dane (Randall Park’s Hunter) for Reggie to finally recognise himself as a victim of abuse.

It would be grossly overselling Strays’ emotional intelligence to identify its abuse commentary as being especially insightful but there’s poignance here nonetheless. Almost four million dogs are abandoned each year in the US, through no fault of their own. To this statistic, Strays brings the cruel reality of relational victim blaming. It’s oddly moving, particularly to anyone who has ever truly loved a dog. Not to fall too far fowl of sentiment, Strays pursues revenge comedy for the shits and giggles. In payback for two years of neglect, Reggie vows to bite Doug’s dick off.

Having so long been trapped in the domain of family friendly adventure comedies, it does feel about time for dogs, so naturally inclined toward gross out behaviour, enjoyed some adults only fun. Strays won’t be for everyone. As penned by American Vandal’s Dan Perrault, this is puerile stuff and regularly plugs for the lowest common denominator in its search for the biggest laughs. That said, the film boasts not inconsiderable comic flair. Perrault plunders every dog joke ever written and nails a string of wry observations. As such, the gag rate is sky high and more hit than miss. There’s a terrific play on ‘knock knock’ jokes and very funny misreading – from a dog’s eye view – as to why human’s collect poo. Strays even manages to spin a rib-tickling punchline from the tick box inclusion of a magic mushroom sequence.

A wild-fire joke rate will always prove at least a little unwieldy and Strays not immune to the odd misfire. Pairing a crass erection sight gag with sloppy poop toilet humour, for instance, can’t help but feel a tough sell. And yet, for the most part, this is a warmer, more earnest and more heartfelt adventure than its cruder edges imply.

T.S.