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Sleeping Dogs

Sleeping Dogs

Goldthwait proves deceit and devotion can co-exist without contradiction in this refreshing tale of love and lies

Opening to close-ups of a mutt’s bits and a sexually-frustrated Bridget Jones-type in PJs, this canine-themed comedy starts when our heroine narrates; “Hi. My name’s Amy and, when I was in college, I blew my dog.”

Next thing you know, Amy’s mouth-washing profusely, before the story fast-forwards eight years. You never get to see any girl-on-dog action, but, boy, do you get to hear about it. Second-rate farce looms over the next hour, as Amy’s forced to decide whether to come clean to her sweet fiancé John. He thinks sharing secrets will bind them closer, but she thinks honesty’s overrated.

Despite his name, writer/director Bobcat Goldthwait doesn’t really do silly very well; his canine cum jokes and gratuitous swear words don’t do anyone justice. But when the gross-out is over – and Amy’s prudish parents join John in rejecting her for her degenerate past, well, that’s when this charming low-key drama really find its feet.

What follows is a thought-provoking morality tale that taps into the repressed and misogynist American psyche. A psyche that to this day legitimises 'shoot the cookie' – a campsite circle-jerk where he who comes last gets to shoot his load and eat it (and all of his friends’ loads too) – as coming-of-age japery, but judges pre-marital sex and exploration as beyond the pale. And though it ends on a heterosexual high note, Sleeping Dogs is never gushy, and instead locates romance in the darkest of hearts.

Georgie Hobbs

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