‘A Breed Apart’ Review: All Bark, No Bite
Michael Bobori’s The Breed isn’t a classic by any means. Despite boasting the involvement of Wes Craven as a producer, that killer dog flick was all bark, no bite. It’s serviceable in that slick, early 2000s way (and boasts both Michelle Rodriguez and Oliver Hudson among its cast), though the film is certainly not a monster mash anyone thought would reasonably get the legacy sequel treatment (sort of). Well, it did. The Furst Brothers’ A Breed Apart endeavors to set itself apart in an increasingly crowded horror space, though it’s less American Kennel Club, more mutt. It’s a horror/comedy built from the parts of so many other, better movies.
An incredulous metatextual opening sees Hayden Panettiere on-set for The Breed. She’s doing the Kirby Reed schtick, self-aware and exhausted. Something doesn’t sit right with her about the use of real dogs in the film, and she’s right to be worried. A stone’s throw away, the animal handlers are mauled and dragged into the tropical wilderness courtesy of a band of German Shepherds who saw Cujo one too many times. There’s nary a lick of logical sense before the timeline jumps forward 13 years, and the island has gone the way of J.A. Bayona’s Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom—abandoned as the wild dogs claim the land as their own.
They’re crazed and conspicuously computer-generated, and not in a good way. The canine chaos is disorienting and unclear, with the dogs most equipped to simply bite feet and thrash about, their faces blurring in and out of existence, as the Furst Brothers’ cut toward the actors’ respective panic. You’ll get the idea that these dogs are ready to maul, though you’ll have an impossible time making that out on your own.
That’s before a gaggle of influencers, including Virginia Gardner (Halloween, Fall) and Grace Caroline Currey (also Fall), arrive on the island to live-stream their efforts to rescue the “Hollywood dogs gone wild.” They’re all terrible, and A Breed Apart’s mean streak clenches its jaws and never lets go. Despite efforts to later reform and add dimension, the cast is predominantly one-note, abounding with influencer caricatures and A Breed Apart’s version of Mattel’s See N’ Say—the influencer goes “viral,” the finance bro goes “Crypto.”
There’s something to be said for how little time The Furst Brothers waste. The group’s host is swiftly dispatched, and the surviving influencers spend the remainder of the movie running and hiding from CG menaces. Save for a few caged dogs here and there, there’s no effort made to juxtapose the digital effects with anything real. The late Roger Corman would be proud of that, at least.
That action is exhausting, however. It’s ceaseless, lots of screaming and cussing interspersed with humor that doesn’t land. The digital cavalcade permits more dogs than ever before, though good luck keeping track of how many damned dogs might be on the island as dozens (and dozens) launch themselves at cell towers and climb up the bow of a ship. The Furst Brothers, who also penned the script, can have as many dogs as they want, and I’ll concede the sheer volume is staggering, if poorly rendered. Even with 20 pups, it’s mostly the aforementioned leg nibbles. A Breed Apart is content to chew when it should be ripping throats.
Oh, and the dogs inexplicably sound like Predators, gutturally growling and clacking their way through the island’s new residents. Which is kind of cool in that nifty B-movie way. Yet, a B-movie needs charm and earnestness. That’s something Corman always understood. Even the team at The Asylum takes their work seriously. A Breed Apart feels like a big joke, a Trojan Horse with intentions I still don’t fully understand. Amidst all the puppies being kicked and graphical overlays, I’ve lost interest in finding out what that might be. Dose me with some trazodone—I’m okay sitting this one out.
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A Breed Apart
Summary
Unless you really hate puppies, I’m not sure enjoyment you’ll salvage from A Breed Apart.
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