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FIDO
Directed by: Andrew Currie.
Produced by Blake Corbet & Mary Anne Waterhouse.
Written by: Robert Chomiak, Currie & Dennis Heaton.
Edited by: Roger Mattiusi.
Director of Photography by: Jan Kiesser.
Music by: Don Macdonald.
Released by: Lionsgate.
Country of Origin: Canada. 91 min. Rated R.
With: Carrie-Anne Moss, Billy Connolly, Dylan Baker, K’Sun Ray, Henry Czerny & Tim Blake Nelson.

It’s almost tempting to say that Fido reaches its highest point of satiric gold in its opening sequence – a 1950’s era educational/industrial short detailing the ever growing problem of the flesh-eating living dead that has come about due to a cloud of space dust. The answer to the dilemma: ZomCon, a corporation that catches those pesky zombies, places control collars around their necks, and puts them to good use for the suburban consumer (fences keep the good zombies with the collars away from the bad ones, or rather, the ones that just won’t behave). In the class of school kids watching the film, Timmy Robinson (K'Sun Ray) is the only one whose family has yet to get a zombie-as-servant.

But his mother (Carrie-Anne Moss) finally goes for it, despite Mr. Robinson’s (Dylan Baker) total fear and repulsion, and brings one (Billy Connolly) home. Timmy, who has no friends and is often ridiculed by bullies, names him Fido and treats him as his pet. However, Fido’s collar goes on the fritz, he sinks his teeth into an old lady, who takes a bite from some one else, and so on, causing Fido to come to the attention of the Robinson’s nosey neighbor, Mr. Bottoms (the splendidly one-note Henry Czerny), one of the main honchos at ZomCon. The zombie’s presence also brings out the tension between husband and wife, as Mr. Robinson can’t deal with having this thing in his house after his own father has become a flesh eater, while Mrs. Robinson comes to like the big lug.

Director Andrew Currie’s mode of comedy is somewhat in the same frame of reference as Shaun of the Dead, but compared to Shaun, Currie has the upper hand by relying on the clichés of its 1950s period setting. Fido is laden with nods to the Eisenhower era with its emphasis on conformity and the tone of a Douglas Sirk film, where there’s something a little darker beneath the shiny surface. (The Cold War is absent, which is just as well given that the zombies are a perfect substitute.)

Along with the subversion of suburbia, Currie also has some uproarious gags at the expense of Fido-as-dog; when Fido rushes home, as the young Robinson is elsewhere tied to a tree with zombies lurking around the bend, the mother reads Fido’s frantic expression and figures out that “Timmy’s in trouble!” – an obvious and effective gag.

The other crucial facet that helps make up for certain flaws in the story (a pregnancy subplot is thrown in that is a little puzzling and unnecessary given all the dysfunction already going on in the family) is Connolly’s performance, one of his best in recent memory. At a Q&A, Connolly spoke of how he was a little taken aback at being asked to play Fido, who, save for some grunts, has not an utterance of sound let alone dialog. Connolly’s more of a verbal comedian than anything else, leading Currie to tell him that the performance would be centered all in his face and eyes.

It was a spot-on choice. Connolly turns out to be the funniest un-dead man since Peter Boyle in Young Frankenstein. Every little gesture and glance, as he becomes more and more a “domesticated” zombie, makes for absurd moments, like the quiet glee in getting his first cigarette, or how he changes from delirious flesh eater without the collar to baffled with it suddenly back on. Overall, Fido’s a big wink-and-nod movie overall, but one that’s equally smart and sweet. Jack Gattanella
June 15, 2007