The Art of Racing in the Rain

As the latest in a recent glut of films exploring the devoted bond between humans and dogs, The Art of Racing in the Rain has its target audience in legions of canine aficionados who can relate.

However, only the most cold-hearted cynics won’t be at least mildly touched by this big-screen adaptation of the bestselling Garth Stein novel, even if it ultimately tugs too aggressively at the heartstrings.

It’s a saga of life, death, and the supportive role pets play in a family unit. And it’s told from the perspective of Enzo (voiced by Kevin Costner), a golden retriever adopted as a puppy by Denny (Milo Ventimiglia), a fledgling race-car driver with an aptitude for driving on wet tracks.

Over the next decade and more, their loyalty and companionship endures through good times and bad. It’s tested first when Denny meets Eve (Amanda Seyfried), who takes a while for Eve to warm up to Enzo. “He’s more person than dog,” Denny explains to her.

The couple marries and has a daughter. Yet as Denny’s racing career revs up, and travel becomes more frequent — causing friction with his manipulative in-laws — a health crisis threatens to tear the family apart. And Enzo is caught in the middle.

While there are moments that showcase the man’s-best-friend dynamics, the concept doesn’t really translate from page to screen. Enzo’s speculative inner dialogue alternates between playful and profound without developing a consistent emotional resonance.

The pooch is irresistibly cute and cuddly, of course. Kudos to the animal wrangling team for its work. Likewise, Costner’s matter-of-fact delivery is fine. But in the book, your imagination creates a more personal portrait of Enzo not subjected to the lack of subtlety shown by British director Simon Curtis (Goodbye Christopher Robin).

Dog owners might appreciate it more than those who haven’t made that real-life connection. Yet even so, an underlying cheesy sentimentality drives the screenplay by Mark Bomback (The Wolverine). Meanwhile, the third act is plagued by a parade of somber contrivances and sugarcoated platitudes.

The bottom line is that none of the characters — either of the two-legged or four-legged variety — is especially compelling, and the gimmicky point of view does little to change that. As a result, The Art of Racing in the Rain runs out of gas before the finish line.

Rated PG, 109 minutes.