Hachi: A Dog's Tale Review

The real Hachikō waited at Shibuya Station for nearly ten years after his owner died in 1925, and a bronze statue of him stands there now. Hallström moves the story to a fictional New England town, shoots it in Woonsocket and Bristol, Rhode Island, and keeps it simple to the point of bareness: Richard Gere's professor finds the puppy, Joan Allen as his wife objects and then relents, and the station master and the hot dog vendor become the dog's audience. Three Akitas, Layla, Chico and Forrest, share the title role, and the film's one formal idea, shots from the dog's point of view drained almost to black and white, is used sparingly and never given a voice.

Nothing here is complicated, and Variety's Alissa Simon named the problem: the human story lacks drama, so the film is mostly a long wait. The framing device, a grandson's school presentation, is pure greeting card, and Jan A. P. Kaczmarek's piano score is on permanent standby for tears. Hallström does not oversell the final stretch, though, and it is devastating on its own terms. Sony skipped an American cinema release and sent it straight to DVD and the Hallmark Channel; audiences found it anyway.