Turner & Hooch
Not everybody loves "Man's best friend" overnight. Consider the fastidious Detective Scott Turner (Tom Hanks) of the sleepy northern California town of Cypress Beach, and the rough and wild Dogue de Bordeaux named Hooch (introducing Beasley the Dog)--an "odd couple" of man and canine. Scott is pulled into one last case on the verge of leaving for a new position in Sacramento--the murder of his friend and Hooch's owner, Amos Reed (John McIntire). Amos had the misfortune of crossing paths with Zack Gregory (Scott Paulin), an enforcer for a money laundering operation posing as a frozen fish distributor situated on the docks where he lived. Scott aims to solve the murder with Hooch as his only witness--provided Scott doesn't kill Hooch first, since the slobbering beast devastates his meticulously organized home with all of the grace of a wrecking ball.
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Scott Turner is a neat freak; even the opening credits have him scrubbing down his fridge when he discovers some spilled mustard and using way too much floss. His excessive fussing is exaggerated for humor's sake, and Tom Hanks's performance keeps the high-strung Scott always on the verge of popping a blood vessel. Scott's obsessive-compulsive behavior reveals a lot about his character; his attention to detail--while useful for an investigator--makes him run the risk of exhausting himself, constantly craving order in his life. The reason for Scott's behavior is alluded to in a comment he makes to Dr. Emily Carson (Mare Winningham), a veterinarian he starts dating after unsuccessfully trying to convince her to take Hooch off of his hands. Scott mentions a prior relationship where he was hurt by someone who accused him of being obsessive, and he probably threw himself into this behavior afterwards. Scott takes in Hooch superficially because he might be a "witness", but reveals himself as a caring man because the alternative for Hooch would have likely been euthanasia after Amos's death. He is sympathetic enough to realize that he's the only chance Hooch has, and also believes that Hooch represents his best means of cracking the case. Scott's aware of Hooch's overzealous attitude--he loves to greet strangers by planting his mouth over their neck--and tries to impose "rules" on the dog with predictably comical results. Some of the funniest scenes in Turner & Hooch come from Hooch being left alone around Scott's possessions, and destroying them in creative ways--from devouring the headrest in his squad car to his rampage through Scott's home after being locked up in the closet. Watching Hooch go from room to room--despite Scott telling him that this is "not your room"--and slobber, smash, and gnaw should be familiar to audiences who have owned a wild or precocious dog; the chaos Hooch unleashes takes Scott to the edge of a nervous breakdown. Watching Hooch barrel his way across the docks in slow motion to tackle Scott--as "Also Sprach Zarathustra" is played--sets the tone for their relationship perfectly.
Turner & Hooch exists somewhere between a police procedural and a family film. Introductory scenes establish that the smugglers are ruthless killers, which engenders sympathy between the audience and Hooch after they kill Amos, and Hooch's grief explains why he is so unruly after Scott and his soon-to-be replacement, Detective David Sutton (Reginald VelJohnson) arrive at the scene of the crime. The dog who plays Hooch is very expressive, conveying a sense of loss and shock at being ripped from his life and cast into a strange, new environment. At the risk of sounding like a dog psychologist, Hooch's behavior reveals feelings of emotional unbalance and unease--even his compulsive chewing reveals his anxiety. Hooch isn't a "bad" dog, but struggles to express his emotions and lets it out in destructive ways--like people do. Scott bonds with Emily while Hooch and her pooch become acquainted, and he begins to lighten up substantially, and stops shouting in frustration at Hooch. The two of them eventually reach common ground; Scott washes off the grime and slime from his new lodger, and Hooch stops destroying his property--the slobber persists, though. Scott and Hooch come to terms with each other, and he even brings his burly buddy with him on a stakeout, where the two share Milk-Bones. Scott talks at length to Hooch, opening up to him as he would a friend or a partner. Although it requires some suspension of disbelief, the tense climax of Turner & Hooch plays out like the climactic shootout in a detective show with elements of "Lassie" mixed in. (Kudos to Hooch for knowing what it means to "cover the back".) Turner & Hooch is, at its core, about two divergent personalities opening their hearts to one another through mutual understanding--which is the magic that makes owning a pet so special.
Recommended for: Fans of a charming and heart-warming story about an anal-retentive cop and a slobbering beast learning to care for one another despite their differences. Turner & Hooch is--some language aside--generally suited for young audiences; I frequently watched this movie when it played on TV when I was a kid, and had the most fun watching Scott flip his lid at discovering the chaos Hooch has wrought.
Turner & Hooch exists somewhere between a police procedural and a family film. Introductory scenes establish that the smugglers are ruthless killers, which engenders sympathy between the audience and Hooch after they kill Amos, and Hooch's grief explains why he is so unruly after Scott and his soon-to-be replacement, Detective David Sutton (Reginald VelJohnson) arrive at the scene of the crime. The dog who plays Hooch is very expressive, conveying a sense of loss and shock at being ripped from his life and cast into a strange, new environment. At the risk of sounding like a dog psychologist, Hooch's behavior reveals feelings of emotional unbalance and unease--even his compulsive chewing reveals his anxiety. Hooch isn't a "bad" dog, but struggles to express his emotions and lets it out in destructive ways--like people do. Scott bonds with Emily while Hooch and her pooch become acquainted, and he begins to lighten up substantially, and stops shouting in frustration at Hooch. The two of them eventually reach common ground; Scott washes off the grime and slime from his new lodger, and Hooch stops destroying his property--the slobber persists, though. Scott and Hooch come to terms with each other, and he even brings his burly buddy with him on a stakeout, where the two share Milk-Bones. Scott talks at length to Hooch, opening up to him as he would a friend or a partner. Although it requires some suspension of disbelief, the tense climax of Turner & Hooch plays out like the climactic shootout in a detective show with elements of "Lassie" mixed in. (Kudos to Hooch for knowing what it means to "cover the back".) Turner & Hooch is, at its core, about two divergent personalities opening their hearts to one another through mutual understanding--which is the magic that makes owning a pet so special.
Recommended for: Fans of a charming and heart-warming story about an anal-retentive cop and a slobbering beast learning to care for one another despite their differences. Turner & Hooch is--some language aside--generally suited for young audiences; I frequently watched this movie when it played on TV when I was a kid, and had the most fun watching Scott flip his lid at discovering the chaos Hooch has wrought.