There's one great throwaway gag in the proudly crass dog-days-of-summer comedy Strays. It involves what the film identifies as a "narrator dog" – that is, an adoringly, adorably staring pooch who reflects, through voiceover, on the love life of his owner. Connoisseurs of the Hallmark-friendly genre of dog movie will recognize this as a goof on the time Kevin Costner supplied the inner monologue of a wistful Golden Retriever. But you don't need to know A Dog's Purpose from A Dog's Journey to appreciate how Strays treats all these canine-related tearjerkers like a fire hydrant. And the movie's best joke, whose dark punchline shouldn't be spoiled here, speaks to a universal truth about man's best friend: No matter how awful you are, your dog will still love you.
As far as owners go, Doug (Will Forte) is about as awful as they come: a sadistic stoner asshole who constantly insults, berates, and neglects his trusty Border Terrier, Reggie. Not that Reggie minds. The little guy, who bears a passing resemblance to famous movie dog Benji, is a model of unwavering loyalty. Voiced by one-time Dissing Your Dog spokesman Will Ferrell at his most cheerfully clueless and milquetoast, Reggie is something of a narrator dog himself, gushing about how great his human is over the opening montage – as Forte’s scumbag repeatedly demonstrates otherwise.
After several attempts to abandon Reggie – who keeps coming back, ball in mouth, convinced he's winning a game – Doug finally succeeds, dropping his unwanted pet in an unfamiliar city a three-hour drive away. Here, Reggie meets foul-mouthed, streetwise, and ownerless Boston Terrier Bug (Jamie Foxx), who shows him the ropes of stray life, eating scraps and mounting whatever you like. He also befriends Hunter (Randall Park), a gentle Great Dane who works as a emotional support animal after flunking out of doggie police academy, and Maggie (Isla Fisher), a powerfully nosed Australian Shepherd whose preteen owner has redirected her affections towards a toy-breed puppy.
Strays certainly commits to its bit. The movie is a ribald, R-rated spoof of family-friendly talking-dog flicks – including Homeward Bound, which it vaguely lampoons once Reggie convinces his new pack to join him on the long voyage back to Doug, ostensibly to enact castrating revenge. (If a cute mutt with the voice of Ron Burgundy promising to "bite his dick off" sounds like the height of hilarity, rest assured that the movie repeats it as, well, doggedly as a trainer determined to teach some new tricks.) Many of the grosser gags of this gross-out comedy hinge on how disgusting our furry friends can be; one trip to the pound begins with a red rocket and ends with a fecal slip-and-slide.
The bottomless supply of testicular humor comes courtesy of screenwriter Dan Perrault, who offered a more refined breed of dick joke – and a more clever parody – with his Netflix mockumentary American Vandal. Meanwhile, director Josh Greenbaum offers a naughtier nuttiness than the kind that made his Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar a pandemic sleeper. But random shenanigans like a wild mushroom trip and a brief cameo by A Dog's Purpose star Dennis Quaid, who plays himself, aren't as amusing as the offhand jokes poking fun at the absurdities of dog behavior, as when one of these four-legged cutups explains his disdain for the mail-delivering bane of his existence: "He smells like a thousand different houses, and I can't trust that."
At times, Strays plays as formulaically as the sappy movies it's mocking. Beneath the vulgarity, this is a modern Hollywood comedy all the way. That means plenty of life lessons served between the laughs. Will Reggie manage to cut the leash and get out of his abusive relationship with Doug? Will Hunter work up the nerve to profess his feelings for Maggie? Will Bug get over his own traumatic abandonment, conveyed through flashbacks that aim for Toy Story 2 pathos without the heart-string-pulling assistance of Sarah McLachlan? (Talk about a missed opportunity, failing to secure the voice behind "When She Loved Me" and those famously manipulative animal-cruelty commercials.) It's practically Pavlovian, the way studios have taught audiences to expect a self-help seminar at the center of even the raunchiest of yukfest.
In the end, Strays has its kibble and eats it, too. Like any classic parody, it mauls with affection: You can chuckle at a Marley & Me reference and still want to adopt the characters – especially given how Greenbaum, in his truest nod to the history of the genre, employs real trained dogs, albeit with the CGI mouths necessary to make it look like a terrier is cursing a blue streak. Through the licking and lipstick jokes, another ode to the special bond between pets and owners emerges. It warms the heart as vigorously as it humps the leg.
source https://www.ign.com/articles/strays-review-will-ferrell-jamie-foxx