My Five Year Plan

Lie-la-lie! Lie-la-lie-la-lie-la-lie!

Meet Presley. Presley’s one of the two breakout stars of CBS’s Greatest American Dog, this year’s second-most bizarre dog-centric reality series. Greatest American Dog is a fascinatingly strange show, emblematic of CBS’s high reality-tv production values and strong dedication toward constructing dynamic characters. What differs here, of course, from earlier CBS series - Kid Nation, Survivor - is that the characters focused on, more often than not, are dogs. There is some focus on the dog’s owners, but these owners are mostly boring, and I am yet to discern much about them from what I’ve seen so far.

Greatest American Dog is a lot of different reality series in one - it’s a bit Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show: when, in Episode 2, Beth Joy dressed up her disgusting mutt Bella Starlet for the obedience show elimination challenge, the judges scolded her for not allowing them to observe the dog’s body language, grooming. It’s a bit Big Brother, with all dogs and owners living in the same house, and with the Golden Bone Room and a Dog House for whoever is on the shitlist of the Golden Boner. It’s got a touch of the American Idol formula, with a panel of three judges, one of whom, a scary Brit named Victoria, has a bit of a mean streak like Simon Cowell’s and a tendency to demonstrate - at length - the dogs’ trainers’ faults.

All this from R.J. Cutler, the Academy Award nominee and Peabody and Emmy winner better known for fare like The War Room and the amazing, forgotten series American High (cancelled halfway through its Emmy-winning run, I had to follow this indelible document of suburban Chicago teens from Fox to late-night PBS showings). It seems a bit of an odd fit, and it shows in the series’ awkward rhythms and inability to paint its human characters as compellingly as its canine ones (who are suitably treated with terrific reaction shots, lingering closeups, and fun dog-at-play montages).

What the show has yet to do, and what could separate it from the pack of reality noise and put it in the rarefied air of a series like Kid Nation, is come to terms with the complexities of what we expect from dogs. Thus far the series has judged the dogs on obedience and the ability to do simple tricks, but has not acknowledged that these dogs do not care about the fact that they’re on the series, are unaware of the entertainment they provide us. Canine obedience as ideal is simply a cultural construct - so the ability of these dogs to conform to our idea of dogness is the show’s competitive criteria, but will the show ever probe deeper issues of dogness, the nature of canine identity, in the way that Kid Nation’s explorations of politics and role-playing interrogated the question of childhood and adulthood as separate patterns of behavior?

So far, a rundown of the dogtestants, starting with the first two eliminated pooches (I haven’t seen episode 3 yet) and then in ascending order from worst to best:

Ezzie (ELIMINATED) - A Boston terrier owned by aspiring actor Michael, Ezzie actually demonstrated some dogtential, but her owner was simply so irritating that no one could stand for him to be on the show any longer. I was, to be sure, surprised - the first challenge was designed as a demonstration of the dogs’ abilities to perform tricks, and Ezzie wasn’t nearly as awful as the other Bottom-Three dogs, Bella Starlet and Beacon. Ezzie, we hardly knew ye. B-.

Kenji (ELIMINATED) - Behaviorally, this giant schnauzer is a dogtrocity! In the first episode, he attacked one of the littler competitors. And then he did so in the second episode! Kenji’s owner, Elan, is not a very good trainer, using lots of physical manipulation and yelling, and as with Ezzie’s elimination, it appeared as though the judges based their decision as much on Elan’s inability to conform to traditions of dog training as to her dog’s inability to follow her lead. I want this dog to hug me, but I do not want to see it win reality competitions. C.

Okay, now for the remaining contestants, starting with the worst:

Bella Starlet - Woof! This thing is a nightmare, a mutt that combines the worst of an assortment of breeds (Yorkie? Pomeranian? All the heavy-hitters in horrible seem present here…). Bella Starlet is apparently an acting dog, and has been in independent films. Her owner, Beth Joy, is a former Elaine Benes impersonator and aspiring actress. This pair is undoubtably, inextricably New York, but in the most annoying way possible, and I hate hate hate them. I hate the American Girl Place dresses Beth Joy puts on Bella Starlet, I hate the camera’s lingering close-ups on that tattoo on Beth Joy’s calf, and I hate the stupid look on Bella Starlet’s face. When Beth Joy, attacked by the judges for clothing her dog for a grooming demonstration, fought back by announcing that her dog, as a mutt, cannot conform to any standards, and that she should be judged by her face and tail, I became momentarily enraged, dizzy, and I needed water. D- (because no dog deserves an F, ever).

Preston - Another dog whose owner decided that their dog was a doll to be played with, Preston is a white Pomeranian who comes with a shock of Manic Panic on his head. We’re yet to see much of this dog - he performs well in pre-elimination Golden Bone competitions but is seen little elsewhere on the show. Perhaps here, and with Bella Starlet (and, to be truthful, the next dog), my biases toward larger dogs are visible; yes, I prefer a large dog, someone you can be friends with and play with, and I think this is part of where the series might go as far as exploring the biases and preferences of American dog owners: what does it mean to be an American dog? Is there a sexist bias in this sort of inquiry? Can a poofy white Pomeranian - a canine culturally feminized by its form - ever fulfill the second adjective in the show’s title, or is there a tendency toward larger, traditionally ‘masculine’ dogs in American society? It is unclear. But if this is the case, it will not be with this dog. This dog does not possess the power to captivate the American soul. D+

Beacon - Thus far featureless as a character, all we have to go on so far with Beacon is his poor showing in the first episode’s elimination challenge, and his inability to perform tricks. I have no bias against the miniature schnauzer as a breed, but simply with respect to his demonstrated abilities thus far, I am giving Beacon a C-.

Elvis - Elvis is a Jack Russell Terrier. Despite Eddie, America’s favorite TV dog for a solid decade, the Jack Russell is a mean, spiteful breed, filled with enough bile for you and your loved ones to develop a lifetime’s worth of ulcers. A recent study, linked to in my friend Amanda’s AIM status, indicates the Jack Russell as the third most vicious commonly certified dog breed, following the chihuahua and the dachshund. Elvis has shown the more vicious tendencies of a Jack Russell already, biting superior dogtestant Tillman below the eye, and failing to heel suitably in the obedience challenge. His ineffectual puppet David, who indulged Elvis with a $10,000 ‘Bark Mitzvah,’ should be advised that he, not Elvis, is the owner. C-

Galaxy - Galaxy’s owner J.D. identifies himself as a ‘Dog Entertainer.’ While I have just spent three minute contemplating joyfully the notion of maintaining a living entertaining dogs, I take it to mean that this guy puts on a show with his backflipping, frisbee-catching stunt-dog Galaxy. In which case he is not the dog entertainer. He merely facilitates dog entertainment. Dog Entertainment Facilitator would be a better title for what J.D. does. Galaxy is the dog entertainer. She is the entertaining dog. J.D. is not. J.D. is annoying, cocky, and thinks he will easily walk away with the title. He is receiving what has to be termed the CBS Snake editing - CBS is good at alerting viewers that a contestant, seemingly likable now, will turn into a snake later in the season. I like Galaxy, enough to give her a B+. But J.D. gets a C, which evens them out as a team to a B-. This seems fair.

Leroy - I know nothing - nothing! - about this dog. Nothing! But I like it. Stealth editing tells me to expect good things from this dog later in the season. B.

Andrew - Here’s the small dog that breaks the rule: I have a tremendous admiration for trainer Laurie’s ability to maintain order with her dog Andrew. I would never want to deal with this dog - having once lived with an impossibly matted and seemingly abused Maltese picked up as a runaway, I know that this is not a breed for me, but given the parameters of the species, I am very impressed by the dog’s heeling ability, his attentiveness when instructed by Laurie not to eat his favorite meal, presented during the elimination challenge, and his grooming. B+.

Tillman - Tillman is a bit of a two-trick dog: but what tricks! He can skateboard and he can surf, and moreover, he can be an English Bulldog, which is enough to earn him points in my book. This is an ugly dog, and I want to hug him a lot and have my face licked by his big-ol tongue. He’s friendly, perhaps too much so (he seems shocked when bitten by Elvis in Episode 2, his owner’s consoling behind-the-ear stroke the only thing able to calm him). A gentle soul trapped in a brutish body. The single-greatest moment on this series thus far was watching Tillman nervously eyeing a steak right in front of his face, unable to touch it. He did it admirably. What a trooper. I’m a fan. A-.

Star - Star saved a life. STAR SAVED A LIFE. This is an awesome dog, who can sense when owner Bill’s diabetic wife has a low sugar count. This is a hero dog. Dogs who are heroes are one of my greatest obsessions, and so I’m a definite fan of this dog. Also, it’s clear that Bill and Star love each other, and that Bill and Star are well suited for one another, as when Bill affixed a neatly washed bandanna around Star’s neck for the obedience show. And when Star was attacked by some mysterious object (feral cat? barbed wire? ELVIS?), Bill’s rush to the Emergency Pet Care center was the show’s most gripping emotional moment. I really like this dog. Enough to give her an A. But not enough to beat…

Presley - Let’s be honest. What we look for in a dog is a friend, someone to bounce ideas off of, someone to hug, someone to nurture and love and Presley’s a great friend. He’s so expressive in the way boxers can be - a slight head cock leads to a wealth of emotional readings - that you can’t help but want to shake paws with this guy. Not to mention the fact that he’s obedient, capable, maintains excellent dog-posture, and inspires tears from his nice-guy owner Travis. This dog is a winner. A.

One more issue I’d like to touch on: the way CBS’s website for Greatest American Dog, and specifically the images on the site, construct certain ideas about America that don’t necessarily play out on the show: specifically, all the dogtestants and owners are posed in an idyllic Southern California suburban landscape, as if to comment that this is the natural environment of dog-lovers, when in fact most of the owners appear from their biographies to be urban dwellers. As someone who recognizes that high-density urban neighborhoods are among the leading Important Dog Areas in America, I am dramatically opposed to this dogscriminating portrait of America’s love affair for all things canine.