Beverly Hills Chihuahua

In Disney's unabashedly silly talking-dog movie BEVERLY HILLS CHIHUAHUA, Chloe (voiced by Drew Barrymore), the ridiculously spoiled title pet, is swept away from her comfortable 90210 existence, when the impulsive niece (Piper... In Disney's unabashedly silly talking-dog movie BEVERLY HILLS CHIHUAHUA, Chloe (voiced by Drew Barrymore), the ridiculously spoiled title pet, is swept away from her comfortable 90210 existence, when the impulsive niece (Piper Perabo) of her wealthy owner (Jamie Lee Curtis) combines dog-sitting with a vacation in Mexico. When Chloe gets lost south of the border, her scrappy Chihuahua admirer, Papi (voiced by George Lopez), embarks on a mission to bring her back home. While Chloe's pint-size dog in shining armor searches for his posh crush, she must contend with the rough-and-tumble side of life, learning a few important lessons along the way. Directed by Raja Gosnell, who is no stranger to dog-themed live-action/CGI flicks (see SCOOBY-DOO), CHIHUAHUA is an amusing diversion that is custom-made for canine lovers. Barrymore and Lopez are pitch-perfect in their vocal performances, and they are ably assisted by a bevy of Latino talent, including Andy Garcia, Edward James Olmos, and Cheech Marin. Although the film doesn't give its human actors a lot to do, it doesn't matter much, since the dogs are the reason for the entire show. In fact, the more the movie concentrates on its furry protagonists the more giddily entertaining it gets, as exemplified by a fun, fantastical doggie musical sequence that serves as CHIHUAHUA's undeniable highlight.

Review in a Hurry: This tale of a pampered pooch lost in Mexico has more trouble sniffing out its main storyline than a Bloodhound who can't smell. But if you're into talking dogs, that shouldn't be much of a problem.

The Bigger Picture: An early trailer for this featured hundreds of frenzied Chihuahuas in feather headdresses singing "Chihuahua" and prancing around Aztec ruins, and declared the coming of the greatest Chihuahua movie ever.

Well, whatever that movie was, it's not Beverly Hills Chihuahua. What appeared to have all the potential of a so-bad-it's-fun masterpiece turned out to just be an average friendly enough kid's flick that often wanders the deserts of Mexico without much direction.

The story follows Chihuahua Chloe (Drew Barrymore), an overly pampered pet of a high-powered businesswoman Vivian (Jamie Lee Curtis), or Aunt Viv to her irresponsible niece Rachel (Piper Perabo). Chloe and her taste for Harry Winston jewels is revealed in a tediously long beginning featuring a clichéd version of Beverly Hills that seems even less current set against Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl".

Once Aunt Viv gets out of the movie's way, Rachel takes Chloe to Mexico, where the she is dognapped by the nicest, most un-Michael Vick-like dogfighting circle. Things finally get moving when Chloe meets Delgado (Andy Garcia) a hard-boiled but caring German Shepherd who helps the defenseless Chihuahua escape the jaws of a killer Doberman named Diablo (Edward James Olmos).

From here they begin their journey to the States. But what should be a pretty straight forward story turns directionless.

Is it a buddy comedy? A love story? A look at border relations? Reclaiming ethnic pride? Race relations? A satire about overly spoiled pets? Or could it be, of all unthinkable things, a retired-cop drama? There are so many possibilities that the writers can't settle on just one. Instead, they run around several competing ideas without ever fully realizing one.

But the most important thing about the whole movie is it features talking dogs. Cute, cuddly ones with CGI lips that move convincingly, easily the strongest argument to see this movie. Not that there's anything wrong with that for kids and Puppy Bowl fans, just don't go expecting to like it ironically.

Historically, Disney's done well by going to the dogs, from "Lady and the Tramp" and "101 Dalmatians" to "The Shaggy D.A." and "Eight Below."

Although not quite the same pedigree as the above, "Beverly Hills Chihuahua" is nevertheless a can't-miss proposition.

A cross-cultural, bilingual romp about a pampered pooch who must suddenly fend for herself -- doggy booties and all -- in the mean streets of Mexico with remarkably not a single Taco Bell placement in sight, the picture might not be as fresh and clever as it could have been, but its spirited voice cast delivers the whole enchilada.

Considering that long-lead awareness campaign, this little Chihuahua is poised to make mucho dinero for Disney, with unlimited merchandising potential nipping at its heels.

In a role tailor-made for its provider, Drew Barrymore supplies the pitch-perfect voice of Chloe, the overly indulged pet entrusted in the care of Piper Perabo's flaky Rachel by her eccentric Aunt Viv (Jamie Lee Curtis).

But during a south-of-the-border jaunt taken by Rachel and her friends (the film is shot almost entirely in Mexico), Chloe is kidnapped by a dog-fighting ring.

As Rachel, her aunt's landscaper, Sam (Manolo Cardona), and his Chloe-smitten dog, Papi (voiced by George Lopez), head up a search party, Chloe is taken under the wing of Delgado, a soulful German Shepherd (a terrific Andy Garcia) with a secret past, and along the way forms a connection to her ancestral home.

Having helmed the live-action/CGI "Scooby-Doo" movies and a "Home Alone" installment, director Raja Gosnell could probably do this stuff in his sleep, and he hits all the requisite posts with an unforced ease.

Still, you wish the script, credited to Analisa LaBianco and Jeff Bushell, had been given another punch or two to make it just a little sharper and more surprising.

It would have given that inspired voice cast more to chew on, though Barrymore , Garcia (more animated than he has been in years), Lopez, Placido Domingo, Luis Guzman, Cheech Marin, Paul Rodriguez and a menacing Edward James Olmos in Doberman form (as Delgado's arch-nemesis, El Diablo) do nicely with what they're fed.

Behind the scenes, visual effects supervisor Michael J. McAlister ensures that the film's 200-odd assortment of real-life canines "speak" convincingly in both languages.

And in an effort to avoid a repeat of the frenzied run on puppy purchases triggered by the 1996 release of the live-action "101 Dalmatians," the film includes a warning concerning responsible pet adoption that should make PETA pleased.

THE film is "Beverly Hills Chihuahua." The audience is the fire hydrant.

She's Chloe (voiced by Drew Barrymore), the best-dressed bitch since Donatella Versace. She's got sequined pillbox hats, doggie fashion spectacles and a perverted admirer: the Mexican gardener's dog, another Chihuahua (George Lopez). He offers his services "if you ever need someone to lick inside your ears or chew the hard-to-reach places," which sounds a bit racy even for two panting animals who met on Nerve.

One of Chloe's friends is a debauched pug named Sebastian who wears Naughty Highway Patrolman aviator glasses and says "faboo" a lot. "Gay Pug": much better idea for a movie.

Chloe is cute, but it's hard to feel for her. In a month when dog food is starting to look like a possible dinner option for middle-class humans, the pooch ges lost because she refuses to eat Alpo at the hotel in Mexico where her owner's niece (Piper Perabo) takes her along for a girls' weekend trip. "Uh, I'm starting to get the feeling there's no Four Seasons here," says Chloe. She scampers into the night looking for haute cuisine wearing designer doggie booties.

More suspense could have been worked up on a trip to China, where Chloe would look less like a fashion plate and more like the appetizer that's served on it. Instead, she is merely captured by a dog-fighting ring and thrown in a kennel with a gang of tough-looking strays: ruff-ians.

"I'm an heiress," she explains. "A hairless?" asks another dog. A Doberman chases her, trying to steal her diamond collar for his nasty owner, and only the most stony-hearted viewer could fail to root for the underdog: the Doberman.

Helping her flee is a German shepherd (Andy Garcia) with a past: He and the Doberman have sniffed each other out before. Not lately, though, at least on the shepherd's part: He's the second major big-screen character in less than a year to have been stricken smell-blind by a traumatic event. (The first was Dewey Cox in "Walk Hard," who became nasally impaired after witnessing his brother being stricken by "one of the worst cases of being cut in half by a machete I've ever seen.")

Meanwhile, Chloe's would-be boyfriend, the Chihuahua-gardener, is trying to rescue her. "We're Mexican!" he says. "Not Mexican't!"

You expect Chloe to learn a lesson, and she does, but not the one you'd expect. When she announces that she's no longer a priss, she does so while wearing a spangled doggie jacket and diamond accessories.

The real lesson is the one she learns when she falls in with a group of radical Chihuahua liberationists whose angry motto is "No mas!" and who indoctrinate Chloe into a revisionist history of the glories of her race. This is the weirdest scene in the movie, and consequently the only interesting one. It's as if it were directed by a four-legged Spike Lee.