That's Not My Dog! review

A bunch of people coming around for dinner and cracking jokes over a few beers and wines ... is that a compelling idea for a feature film? The director Dean Murphy and his ubiquitous star/producer, Shane Jacobson – who is increasingly giving the impression of being a person happy not just to attend the opening of an envelope but to star in a feature film about such an event – believe the answer is a firm yes.

The twist is that the guests of the true-blue soirée held in That’s Not My Dog! are well-known Australian comedians, instructed to bring with them their three funniest jokes of all time. The guest list is impressive – including Jacobson, Paul Hogan, Jimeoin, Paul Fenech, Michala Banas, Steve Vizard, Fiona O’Loughlin, Tim Ferguson, Lehmo, Ed Kavalee, Rob Carlton, Christie Whelan Browne, Hung Le and Lulu McClatchy.

The resulting film is almost entirely comprised of the rendition of their jokes, unaccompanied by visualisations or aesthetic embellishments. By “almost entirely” I do not mean lots of jokes are interspersed throughout the inevitable dialogue, character motivation and plot. I mean there is, with the exception of two very short scenes – maybe three minutes of running time – no dialogue, character motivation and plot. Nothing but jokes. Jokes, jokes and jokes.

This premise is pretty bloody ’strayan, and pretty bloody lazy; literally a matter of getting people to tell jokes and filming them. Every cast member deserves to be credited as a co-director, and perhaps as a writer (assuming the material is original – and this is a big assumption given the campfire-yarn nature of much of it). It is unlikely anybody will be crying out for acknowledgement, however, given the final result, which is clearly ill-fitted to the cinematic medium. A web series, perhaps, would have been a better format.

That’s Not My Dog!’s marketing materials inform us that “The greatest jokes ever told ... get told.” Rest assured these are not the greatest jokes ever told. Unless “greatest” includes puns such as “you have to hand it to blind prostitutes” and “why can’t Stevie Wonder see his friends? Because he’s married.” There are longer, rantier ones, including one I quite liked but which sounds lame as soon as you write it down – an anecdote about a murderous boy who lives in a world populated by inflatable people, and “lets everybody down”.

There are precisely 86 jokes in total. Jacobson, mistaking quantity for quality, boasted of this number during his introduction at a recent screening, explaining that smartphones are killing the ancient craft of joke-telling, and this film constitutes an attempt to save it. The actor has now completed a hat trick of duds, following the dunderheaded cooking comedy The BBQ and hammy schlock fest Guardians of the Tomb. His next film, Brother’s Nest, which premieres in Australia in April, will mark four new Jacobson movies in three months.

Something resembling an actual, scripted scene (the horror!) is squeezed into That’s Not My Dog! about three quarters of the way through. It is a tender moment between Jacobson and his real-life father, Ronald, who is the very definition of a natural screen presence – perfect (as he was in Kenny) as the lovable, cranky coot.

Apropos of nothing, Ronald asks Shane: “What’s the guts of this party? What’s it really all about?” Shane explains the whole shindig was for him, to say thanks for raising the family with a great appreciation of comedy. It is a sweet moment but boy is it cloying, pushing its lovey-doveyness into the viewer’s face like a custard pie. It also feels like emotional blackmail. This film was made for good ol’ dad, the message reads. What sort of monster can’t appreciate a film for good ol’ dad?

The director also intermittently cuts to extreme close-ups of brands including Tyrrells chips and Dick Smith sauces, in moments that feel not so much like blatant product placement as short commercial breaks.

Shooting the film on a cold and dark night (an unusual choice: why not a bright summer’s day?) Murphy slathers almost every scene with live music from The Black Sorrows, Russell Morris, Adam Brand, Dan Kelly and The Meltdown. I think I saw a shot of the same keyboardist recycled a dozen times. The use of music is so extensive there is a compelling case to be made that That’s Not My Dog! is a concert documentary first and – what do we even call this? – a joke compilation second.

If you like the music, the volume is constantly reduced to allow us to hear the supposed “greatest jokes ever told”. If you’re there for the jokes, you’ll discover the film constantly reverting back to the music. It is a cruel, vicious, dyspeptic cycle. Towards the end one naturally contemplates their own mortality, longing for the moment when the screen dissolves into dust and a voice beckons to walk towards the light – the green one that says “EXIT”.