Turner & Hooch is a 1989 comedy drama about a police man who takes in a dog with some bad behavior that might just the very thing this cop needs.
THE STORY: On the eve of a transfer from a small Northern California town to Sacramento, police investigator Scott Turner (Tom Hanks) finds his old friend Amos (John McIntire) murdered, leaving his scruffy, ginormous mutt Hooch the only witness. Turner is forced to take Hooch in, the ultra-clean and obsessively well-ordered cop now faced with a bulldozer-esque dog who pretty much leaves only wreckage in its wake. Now they have to work together to hunt down the killer while Turner falls for new local veterinarian Emily Carson (Mare Winningham).
Director: Roger Spottiswoode
Writers: Dennis Shryack, Michael Blodgett
Stars: Tom Hanks, Mare Winningham, Craig T. Nelson
THE RUNDOWN: While it tries to balance a chummy buddy cop comedy with a hard-boiled crime drama made successful with the likes of 48 hrs. (written by this film’s director Roger Spottiswoode) and Lethal Weapon, the addition of a slobbering dog sort of lends it a family film feel, even with murder and some jarring emotional twists. It’s a decidedly silly and predictable movie that falls for plenty of dog-on-the-loose shenanigans and room-to-room chaos but is nonetheless sort of charming, even if it’s one of the weaker Hanks comedies. A cult classic, it’s at least the best of the short-lived dog and cop films of the era.
While this is a light family caper with a few adult themes in play, it’s Hanks who makes the film work, his performance the best thing going, though Winningham is nearly his equal.
It’s easy to see where this is going from the start, with everything falling right into line, including a bad guy we see coming a mile away. Surprising end, though.
THAT MOMENT: It’s tempting to call out the ending as the most impactful moment of Turner & Hooch, and it surely is a surprising twist, made so by a terrific performance from Hanks who hints at some of the more dramatic prowess that would earn him such acclaim in the years after. Hanks carries the entire film, as expected, he in nearly every scene, though admittedly Hooch has some significant chewy presence. However, in a movie about a man and a dog, it’s actually a dynamic scene between Scott and Emily that works best.
Just before the halfway point, after Turner has been dealing with a rather uncooperative Hooch – who has run roughshod over the cop’s house – the two end up at the home of the veterinarian, her female Rough Collie giving Hooch a bit of a romantic disposition of his own. Turner initially feels like this is an opportunity to dump the misbehaved dog and be on his way, hoping to sneak away and let the vet take care of his problem, and there’s not a soul who would blame him.
Too bad for him though, Emily is keen to the move and is already outside with a flashlight, the fuses in her new home having popped off and she needing some help of the human variety. Turner, already a wee bit taken by the pretty doctor, accepts her invite to come inside and assist in getting the lights back on, finding himself in the house moving about from room-to-room as she flips various fuses and awaits his signal that whatever she is doing is working. This eventually put him in a room that is half painted, the floors covered in drop cloths and the walls only partially covered in a pastel pink.
Being a compulsive sort of fellow, he can’t resist picking up a brush, the idea of an unfinished room destabilizing him the moment he entered, so she returns from the basement to find he has taken up the task of finishing what she started. Finding this kind of charming, she decides to follow suit and the two spend most of the night rolling paint and getting to know each other, sharing stories and finding a connection with some flirting that hints of a romance of their own. And then, when it’s over, a revelation changes everything.
WHY IT MATTERS: So yes, this is a movie about a cop and a dog, and Hooch does just as a Hooch in a movie like this does, constantly pushing the plot forward and creating all kinds of mayhem while he slowly endears himself to both Turner and us, even though there’s very few of us who would put up with the kind of horrific home demolition he specializes in. Seriously, this dog is a monster. However, he’s a wrecking ball by design that, through sheer force of destruction, somehow wins the day.
Being that as it is, when the movie slows down and cuts out the barking and berating and lets Turner find his own bit of solace in the company of a woman who has a way about troublesome pets, the movie really finds its footing, mostly because it lets Hanks, and perhaps even more so, Winningham, put a more human spin on the tale.
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Winningham has never been a typical leading lady, and I really appreciate how the filmmakers don’t try to make her one here, Emily a casual, down-to-Earth woman who works for a living and is instantly attractive not because she’s photographed and costumed to be alluring as so many women in these kinds of movies are, but rather because she’s just a very warm person. She has no neediness about her, is professional, intelligent, and refreshingly lacking any rescuing. When it comes to painting her house, the kind gesture by Turner to help is not positioned like a moment where she can’t do it on her own, but rather to show a kind of weakness in him.
What’s more, Spottiswoode refuses to let this scene devolve into the obvious, overused ‘romantic’ cliché of a cute couple starting to paint normally before they take to wildly splattering each other and getting paint everywhere. Instead, the two just talk, gently searching each other for information about their relationship status and availability. When finished, they head to the kitchen where things get even quieter, Turner simply mentioning she has some paint in her hair, and I love how soft this conversation is, she noticing he has not a single drop on him, but also the tenderness in his attention to her. It’s right here where the two realize that there is more happening than just a little home improvement.
It’s really great that a film like this, one that runs on its canine momentum, takes its time to let this develop. Hooch is seen only briefly, quietly sitting under a table with his new companion, the movie putting that aside to give Turner a chance to move things forward.
And then it goes the next step, a very surprising and smart one, bringing Emily and Turner outside where she invites him to take a walk, though he says ‘no’ because he admits he’s starting to like her and if he walks with her, will like her even more. He explains that then, later, they might fall in love and everything will be just fine until one day, bang, she’s gonna call him a selfish compulsive bastard, where she’ll pull her hair out and scream and tell him she never wants to see him again because he drives her crazy.
If you’re really paying attention, this is an electrifying moment only because Turner’s whole ‘OCD’ bit has been played for laughs throughout, he taking to extremes to keep his house in order while Hooch does just the opposite. It’s been a sight gag, a comedic visual to make the dog’s rampage all the more funny. And yet now we realize that this condition Turner has is not really all that funny, that this is a man who has been down this road before with a woman, maybe hoping to make it work, but finding that every time, he is the reason it fails. It seems he is willing to close the door on potential love before it leads to potential hate. It’s a powerful little revelation that is wonderfully acted by Hanks, and then made all the better by what he says before getting into his car. It’s fantastic.
Turner & Hooch is a light comedy with some dark overtones, and even though it’s uneven and follows a pretty straight line, does take a few noticeable risks, most clearly with its ending. However, as good as Hooch is on screen, it’s a small scene with Turner & Emily that makes the difference, where painting a room reveals a looming shadow over a lonely man. It’s a great movie moment.