MUZZLE - Mark Reviews Movies

Muzzle, RLJE Films

Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron

Review by Mark Dujsik | September 28, 2023

Muzzle wants to be the character study of a wounded man, so infected by trauma and anger that it's just a natural state of mind with which he has to live an ordinary life, but it's clearly hesitant or afraid to be that. Instead, screenwriter Carlyle Eubank embraces the story's gimmick and central metaphor as a way to put this guy into the motions of a routine and not particularly interesting mystery.

The gimmick is that Jake Rosser (Aaron Eckhart) is a police officer, assigned to a Los Angeles precinct's canine unit. The metaphor, of course, is a dog—well, two of them, technically. One is killed in the line of duty during the first sequence, meaning that Jake, a Marine veteran who saw enough in combat to never speak of it directly again, has to deal with the loss of a pet, a partner, and the only friend he had in this lonely life into which circumstances and his own mentality have put him.

This setup is initially engaging, because director John Stalberg Jr. seems genuinely invested in how such a man grieves or, more to the point, doesn't. It helps that Eckhart brings such a subtle balance between melancholy and a determination to fight it at every turn to this role.

Jake doesn't say much about himself, his feelings, or the past experiences that have defined his attitude and way of looking at the world here, even when his commanding officer (played by Nick Searcy) and a department review board force Jake into therapy before he can return back to work. After all, Jake a hit a paramedic in front of a large crowd with some recording cellphones, after the medical worker refused to help his dog, shot by a fleeing suspect who rigged a load of drugs to explode.

The man could probably say a lot, but Jake doesn't. That says as much about him as any speech could—maybe even a bit more. Eckhart, as well as Eubank and Stalberg, understands that, and the actor and filmmakers respect the character enough to allow him his silence.

This, obviously, means that the movie has to communicate matters for him. In one way, it sort of succeeds, and in another, it lets down the potential that this story might actually be about Jake, his pain, and how he learns to confront and manage it a bit better than he previously has been able to.

That first way involves Jake's new canine partner—a dog he finds frightened and muzzled in the pound where police dogs are trained for service. This poor pup, named Socks, was previously assigned to a narcotics unit, but something terrible happened to it, too. Leland (Stephan Lang), the department's main canine trainer, won't speak of it directly, and it's not as if Socks is going to reveal what happened, either. The dog's incisors have been replaced with titanium ones, though, and the scared, defeated look on Socks' face and the dog's tendency to snap at people, once again, say as much as needs to be said.

All of this is sound, if a little on the nose—in the same way Stalberg's occasional dog's-eye-view shots awkwardly remind us that there are two characters worthy of sympathy in this story. Jake and Socks bond over police training, as the dog struggles with following orders from its new partner, and at the cop's sparsely furnished apartment, where the guy doesn't need much except relative quiet and coffee. Pretty quickly, Jake starts a romance with neighbor Mia (Penelope Mitchell), which comes across as more of a requirement for the story's point than an actual relationship.

The more distracting sense of requirement, though, comes from the burdensome plot. It revolves around Jake searching for the people behind the killing of his first canine partner (He shoots the actual killer out a warehouse window, so the motive doesn't feel too urgent). That means digging into the trade of a new brand of illegal drug, leading Jake to question a bunch of people, follow leads offered up by the helpful Det. Ramos (Delissa Reynolds), investigate various locales where the drug is being manufactured, occasionally have to deal with assorted goons, and repeating the process over and over.

This investigation doesn't tell us anything different or new about Jake, his grief, or his growing bond with his new dog. Apparently, it does, though, give him something to do that's more straightforward than dealing with the mourning, the long-simmering trauma, and all of that barely repressed anger that prevent him from being happy, fulfilled, or even just "normal" in his own life.

It's disappointing, mostly, because the movie is on to something with this wounded character and, as manipulative as it may sound, how this also-wounded dog might help him see a bit more clearly what ails him. Muzzle doesn't trust a premise so introspective, though, so it overwhelms that potential with a convoluted plot that ultimately feels like routine busywork.

Back to Home

Buy Related Products