When I was in high school, my friends and I tried to make movies using bulky VHS cameras checked out from the AV department and assembled on the gigantic editing machine our local public access station had hidden away in the basement of the public library. It was tedious work that usually didn’t amount to much more than occasionally inspired comedic bits and half-assed attempts at horror, but we had a hell of a lot of fun with the process.
Our mediocre results were secondary to the camaraderie that came with fence-hopping, trespassing, light vandalism, and the many other guerilla-style tactics it took to get the job done, which suited us just fine. We didn’t take our “art” too seriously because we didn’t take ourselves too seriously. Fun was the objective, and making dumb movies was simply another way to chase that perpetually out-of-reach carrot. It was this sense of youthful adventure and carefree chicanery I was looking forward to when I sat down to watch the part documentary, part narrative student film Therapy Dogs. Unfortunately, I was let down.
Perhaps I’m being too hard on teenage filmmaker Ethan Eng, his partner in crime Justin Morrice, and their merry band of misfit friends, but the story they’ve crafted doesn’t resonate with me at all. It could be that I’m just old and out of touch (something I’m reasonably okay with), but more likely it’s that my high school experience was absolutely nothing like theirs. Making a film about my school would have never crossed my mind because I really didn’t give a shit about my school to begin with. Neither did my friends. We were an insular group of punks, skateboarders, and D&D nerds who could not have cared less about what anyone at our school thought of us.
I admit, my high school career was atypical (hell, I didn’t even make it past 11th grade), but my experiences there (or, more accurately, the experiences I had while I was supposed to be there but wasn’t) still helped form the person I am today, for better or worse. Ethan and Justin’s attempt to understand their place in the high school ecosystem and make sense of their futures beyond it may be relatable for some, but not for me. And you know what? That’s fine. I know my life has been unconventional, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
I do applaud Therapy Dogs and its makers for the attempt, though. Its mixture of narrative and guerilla documentary elements works well together, especially for a student film. But, on the flip side, its grating stream-of-consciousness pacing and my complete lack of connection with its subject matter make it a borderline bore for me. I can’t relate to it, and if I’m being honest, I’m glad I don’t. Sorry bros.
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.