Frankie Goes to Hollywood...Again

It’s been more than a decade since the release of what some consider to be the last great American film ever made: My Dog Skip. And, in that time, Hollywood has produced more than its fair share of clunky remakes and sequels. So, you can imagine my excitement when I was asked to review an advanced screening of the long-anticipated sequel to Skip, My Cat Burrp.

Like many a My Dog Skip fanboy, I had long fantasized about a sequel, but I worried that, because the original has become such a sacred part of the American film canon, a sequel might not live up to its predecessor—as is the rule in H-wood. It’s hard to understand now, but MDS really broke the mold upon its initial release—breathing new life into what had become a stale genre. Any sequel would not only have to fill those same paw-tracks, but create its own tracks as well.

But, rest assured, you can breathe easy knowing that the My + Pet + Petname franchise hasn’t been put to “sleep” yet—and, in fact, is still the exception to most films, past or present.

So, what exactly is it that makes My Cat Burrp so exceptional, you might ask? For one: the film brings back Tinsel-Town’s favorite baby-faced man-child, Frankie Muniz—well, formerly “Frankie Muniz”. The star now goes simply by Frank Myunez. That’s right. Our little Frankie—err…Frank—is all growed-up and with age comes a  new grown-up name. Or: at least, that’s how it would seem. Insiders report that Frank apparently changed his name after he sold the rights to his birthname to a deadbeat salvia-pusher in exchange for twenty-dollars worth of low-grade salvia. The star had apparently developed quite the habit. Whereas most former child stars become addicted to heavier drugs, the elfin star with a PG-13 image developed an appropriately PG-13 drug habit. But all that is behind Frank now as Burrp marks his official comeback to films.

And what a comeback it is. Instead of reprising his role as “the kid with the dog”, Frank plays the titular character: Burrp—a foul-mouthed tomcat who, in spite of his coarseness, manages to find a place in the hardest of hearts. That’s not to say it’s a family film. It most definitely is not. According to one of the Weinsteins, the producers of the movie, “something something pretentious about challenging audiences.” But Myunez’s characterization of Burrp has more than enough warmth to appeal to children in the same way that creepy uncles appeal to children because most of the creepy stuff they say goes way over the kids’ heads--and as long as they have a smile on their face it doesn't matter what comes out of their mouths. And, besides…kids are stupid.

The plot revolves around Burrp trying to mate with as many female cats he can before his owners have him neutered. So, sure, it’s high-concept. But turn your brain off and your bound for an entertaining ride as sleazy Burrp prowls the streets and big-city alleyways in search of a “little tail.” Most of Burrp’s attempt at getting “tail” end in rejection and Myunez (in all-too convincing cat make-up—kudos to the practical effects guys on this film) turning to the camera and deadpanning: “Ehh. I get no respect.”-- a clear homage to the late-great guy who used to say that. The gag does eventually wear thin, but by the thirteenth time he says it, you’re back on board and it’s hysterical again. 

I don’t want to give away too much, except to say that Burrp never gets laid and the movie ends with him getting his nuts chopped off. But the rest is pretty good, too. And you should definitely see it. Or: read the forthcoming novelization of the movie by Jonathan Safran Foer, who, taking a hint from Anthony Burgess, developed his own language of cat-speak to make the first-person narrative more authentic.

It’s worth mentioning here that the soundtrack was done by Jeff Mangum, who used field recordings of cats in heat and then auto-tuned that audio to different pitches to create weirdo cats-crying versions of the most obscure songs in the Neutral Milk Hotel catalog. Rarely does the soundtrack work—not just in the context of the film—but, generally speaking, as music. To be perfectly honest, at several moments (most of the film, actually) I was taken out of the action by the soundtrack. But I’m, like, such a Jeff Mangum fan that I sat through it, pretending it was brilliant. 

Actually, that pretty much sums up the whole movie for me: it’s a piece of shit, but I pretended to like it because I didn’t want to not look cool.