C'mon fluffy, who's a good l'il detective? She is! She is!
I'm always complaining about how Hollywood just recycles the same crap over and over, that true creativity is deader than disco. Well, I take it all back when it comes to this flick-to-be I just read about, the adaptation of The Dogs Of Babel. Creativity is alive and kicking, and comes in the form of a talking dog according to Dark Horizons. I kid thee not.
The best selling book by Carolyn Parkhurst is about, and I quote, "a linguistics professor whose wife dies after falling from a tree. The man becomes obsessed with teaching their dog to speak in order to learn whether the death was an accident or suicide."
How can I possibly go through this life without finding out whether the good professor actually does teach the dog to not only talk, but to explain, all CSI-style, the exact way his wife dies. Did she fling herself from the tree because she was married to a man who spent his evenings discussing politics with his ferret? Was she pushed by a deranged squirrel? Does it have a crazy surprise ending, where the dog is somehow crucially involved with her death, because of blackmail or not getting the enough Snausages? Or does the dog not exist at all in some Charlie Kaufman-esque twist? Hmmm? Oh, the possibilities are just overloading my brain.
So, I've given it a lot of thought, and here are the top five possible things I think the dog will wind up saying during the suspenseful climax of the film.
(1) Rye Ruv Roo.
(2) The name's Poochie D, and I rock the telly. I'm half Joe Camel, and a third Fonzarelli.
(3) KILL! KILL! KILL!
(4) Whose leg do you have to hump to get a dry martini around here?
(5) You're acting like a first year f*cking thief! I'm acting like a professional!
I fully understand and forgive you in advance if you never come to my blog again.
posted by drew on 3/24/2004
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