Eat Pray Bark

Synopsis:  People bring their dogs to a weekend dog training camp in the Alps. Laughs ensue.

In Eat Pray Love, Julia Roberts’ character is on a journey of self-discovery. After a divorce she travels the world, eating, praying and falling in love. In the German film Eat Pray Bark/ Therapie auf vier Pfoten (Therapy on Four Paws), dogs and their human guardians journey to the Tyrolean Alps to better understand each other. There is eating and barking, but no praying.

Four dogs and their humans travel from German to an Austrian mountain inn where a popular dog trainer holds a weekend boot camp. Full disclosure: I streamed (strum?) the movie because I love dogs. I wasn’t sure if I would find the German humor funny. In the English-speaking world, Germans are not seen as a fun-loving and lighthearted people probably owing to Germany’s military zeal in the Twentieth Century. Back then, landing a joke was low on their priorities. Times have changed! Today, Germans are more interested in economic productivity than raising arms. I figured that if the comedy didn’t work for me, at least I’d see dogs enjoying the outdoors.

We meet the people and dogs as they catch a Munich train to Austria. Lady Gaga (Clooney & Lillyfee) is a tiny Yorkshire Terrier. For the record, there are no giant or even medium-sized yorkies. Gaga is pampered and dressed up by Ziggy (Doga Gürer), an aspiring scented candle entrepreneur. His husband, an older gentleman, is Helmut (Devid Striesow) a professor. Gaga has a habit of biting Helmut. Good thing she is not a Giant Yorkshire Terrier.

Babs (Anna Herrmann), an upbeat, but frazzled woman has a large shaggy dog, Torsten (Wilma & Dante). Her doggo bounces from place to place, ignoring Babs’ direction. Torsten looks like a Berger Picard; if so, I can see why he’s restless. He’s from a shepherding breed, easily bored by short neighborhood walks. If he spies livestock in the Alpine meadows, he may never want to leave.

Hakan (Kerim Waller) is a dour, fit-looking man with a vaguely dangerous vibe. Why does he seem unnerved by his dog Roxy (Karma & Ghana)? He literally keeps her on a short leash and makes her wear a muzzle. I wish I could report that the muzzle was CGI, because I really didn’t like seeing the Belgian Malinois handicapped, especially when you know that any dog who is employed as an ‘actor’ isn’t going to be biting people or other dogs.

Finally, there is a person who is not going to the weekend camp for the right reasons. (You know, like on reality dating shows when a participant confides that so and so is being dishonest about wanting to find love; they’re there for fame.) Ursula (Alexandra Maria Lara) is a German government minister. She’s laser-focused on becoming a member of the European Parliament. Speaking of which, I read that members are elected by direct universal suffrage – okay, got it – and election is based on the principle of degressive proportionality – okay, you lost me. Anyway, if you are running for a seat, it helps if voters and the king/queen makers in your party like you.

But Ursula has shot herself in the foot, so to speak. Waiting to be interviewed on a public affairs show, and not realizing that her mic was on, she admitted that she didn’t like dogs. Not just that, but she snickered that people who consider dogs important social partners are pathetic. Cats might agree.

Ursula’s political aide, Sue (Yvonne Yung Hee Bormann), advised her boss to adopt a dog to improve her public image because, as it stands, she’s seen as Cruela de Vil, the puppy-hating villain of One Hundred and One Dalmatians. Ursula does not like her rescue dog, Brenda (Dotty), even though she’s a cute little speckled dog who clearly longs for companionship. Brenda deserves better. All Ursula sees is the ripped-up pillows that the doggo tussles with.

We know this is not a high brow comedy when Ursula dons a wig to disguise herself for the weekend. Only on tv or in the movies, is anyone ever fooled by a wig disguise. (In Miley Cyrus’ old Disney show, Hannah Montana, she wears a wig as her pop star alter ego, and no one recognizes her sans wig. Likewise, her oafish dad-manager wears a fake mustache as a fool-everybody disguise.) Maybe the fake name Ursula has taken for the weekend will fool people.

Arriving at a station in the Tyrolean Alps, the weekenders and their doggos transfer to a horse-drawn carriage driven by Gustl (Martin Leutgeb), an elderly worker at the inn. The group enjoy getting acquainted except for the anti-social Hakan and the superior-acting Ursula aka Urschi. Babs can’t wait to meet Nodon, the Celtic dog whisperer. I don’t know why he’s not working in Ireland. Maybe it’s because Teutonic peoples want to control their dogs while the Irish let their dogs do what they please.

Once at the inn, they are greeted by Birgit (Brigitte Kren), a strict frau. Nodon, the dog whisperer, strides into view – slo mo with a Celtic music backdrop. He’s tall, strong and handsome with flowing blond locks. However, he’s cheesed-up his look with his beard in a hair tie and a The Lord of the Rings outfit.  The actor who plays him, Rúrik Gíslason, looks like a lost Hemsworth brother. (He’s actually an Icelander who was a professional soccer player.) Another looker is his companion, Heidi (Mokka), a (maybe) Pekingese mix with a friendly confidence.

After introducing himself, Nodon takes everyone on a hike. Ignoring geography, he talks about the Celtic energy in the area. He frowned about the muzzle on Roxy and asked the people to let their dogs off leash so that his little dog could lead the new dogs on a meadow run. Nodon tells the boot campers that he trains people, not dogs. Yes, it’s obvious that the dogs are picking up on their guardians’ issues.

Ziggy fusses when Nodon says that Helmut the Bitten will cross a stream with Gaga. Babs looks at the trainer with stars in her eyes while Ursula scoffs at Nodon and the dog lovers. Midday the group stops for lunch, locally-sourced herbs and roots. We see Nodon sneak a granola bar. Hmm, maybe he isn’t the mystical Celt he appears to be.

Back at the inn, Nodon has asides with stern Birgit as she cooks. I knew that Eat Pray Bark is a comedy, not because it was hilarious, but because it is billed as such. But with the sly behavior of the trainer and keepers, it could be a Midsommar-esque horror. What’s this in Nodon’s room? Celtic stencils and a pile of human hair? Who knows, maybe he’s a skinhead.

Babs asks Nodon if they can visit his cabin on a nearby ridge. Nein. Maybe it’s something sinister, like an altar to cruel Aryan gods who demand human sacrifices. That would be bad—but as long as they don’t hurt any of the dogs, I’ll keep watching.

Fortunately, it is not a horror movie and the dogs are in no danger. Or the people. In fact, when Nodon leads his charges to a yurt, the Tent of Truth, he encourages the humans to reveal their own angsts so that they can heal and be better friends to their dogs. Even Ursula may be unfreezing her heart towards her companions and Brenda. (Is Brenda a good name for a dog? Not so much, too old-fashioned without being kitschy.) While they may be struggling, the dogs, at least, are enjoying the mountain weekend.

That’s the thing really. We dog lovers are easily led to a dogcentric movie. Eat Pray Bark is more of a light, cross generational film about the bond between dogs and their people than a great comedy. Amusing, though? Ja.

Movie Loon’s Movie Review Shortcut:

Grade:  C

Cut to the Chase:  The movie benefits from Alexandra Maria Lara, a very good actor. Rurik Gislason has fun with his part. But the doggos are the main attraction.

Humor Highlight: Speaking of Ursula’s dislike of dogs, Ziggy calls it a hate crime.