Chloe, the pampered pooch of a mega rich cosmetics mogul, is lost in Mexico and about to be devoured by three poorly animated cougars. Enter a mighty tribe of feral Chihuahuas with digital lips, who sweep Chloe away and teach her the power of saying “no mas.” No mas to funny little outfits! No mas to sitting on laps! You are Chihuahua! Where is your bark?
Chloe does indeed find her bark, which evidently has the power to make nearby architecture collapse. As for Rachel, the empty-headed dog sitter who misplaced her rich aunt’s most prized possession in the first place, she learns that it’s O.K. to love the Mexican gardener as long as he’s outrageously handsome, speaks perfect English and calls himself a “landscaper.”
As multimillion-dollar frivolities about the pets of the ruling class go, “Chihuahua” is reasonably diverting. As one that happens to be opening in the middle of an economic meltdown, its mere existence feels utterly insane.
