This is a British film so depressingly bad that cinemas should play the adagietto from Mahler's Fifth over a loudspeaker as audiences file out grimly into the foyer afterwards, silently asking themselves if life has any value. It has been cobbled together to capitalise on the alleged popularity of Pudsey, a dancing dog who won Britain's Got Talent.
Watching this movie, I was overwhelmed with three emotions: boredom, embarrassment and chiefly shame on behalf of everyone involved, shame that something so shoddily made and mediocre could ever have emerged from our film industry. Even the feature film versions of On the Buses were better than this.
As for Pudsey himself, romping around and getting into scrapes, saving a village from an evil developer – his main skill is walking, briefly and uninterestingly and bafflingly without music, on his hind legs. The key adjective for Pudsey is untalented. What an outstandingly untalented dog. Yet horrifyingly, many genuinely talented human performers have taken part, and like the audience been let down by the script. Things can only get worse, however, and maybe Pudsey and SuBo are even now discussing a followup.
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