Streaming revelation: Toa Fraser & Alan Sharp's adaptation of Lord Dunsany's DEAN SPANLEY

One of those rare delights that you suddenly find dumped into your surprised lap via Netflix streaming, DEAN SPANLEY (or My Talks With Dean Spanley, as it is also called) is a splendid example of quiet British/New Zealand humor and character that slowly, delectably expands into one of the richest and most moving of movies. It is also, by the by, one of cinema's great dog stories -- not to mention perhaps the best piece of reincarnation folderol we've yet seen.

While it won't make a believer out of you, transmigration of souls-wise, it just might make you wish that you could believe -- so enchanting is its premise and so thoroughly brought to bursting life is the execution of that premise. This unusual film, directed by New Zealander Toa Fraser (shown at left) and adapted from one of the works of Ireland's Lord Dunsany by that very good late Scot screenwriter Alan Sharp (Ulzana's Raid, Night Moves), sneaks up on you, promising to be one thing (on which it actually delivers) but then morphing into something quite else. I'd call it a genre-jumper, except that jumping is an activity far too energized for this quiet little charmer. Let's call it a genre-glider. In any case, it is very nearly sui generis.

Here we are in Edwardian England sometime after the second Boer War, as a "good son" (Jeremy Northam, above, left) pays his weekly visit to his seemingly semi-doddering dad (Peter O'Toole, above, right, in perhaps his best final-decade performance). Ah, we think: one of those little British gems of understatement, family and buried wit.

It is all of those. But wait: Then we head for a speaking engagement by a Swami (Art Malik), where father and son meet the oddly reclusive "Dean" of the title (a role the likes of which that talented actor Sam Neill, above, will surely never see again) and a very working-class chap (Bryan Brown, below, left) who says he is in the "conveyance business."

Slowly, with the help of some hard-to-come-by Hungarian Imperial Tokay wine, the plot thickens very slowly until we're neck deep in one of movieland's more fabulous dog stories. In its odd way, this one rivals Lassie on the one hand and My Dog Tulip on the other. I am not sure I have ever seen a film which captured as well as this one the dog's life from the POV of the dog itself.

We also learn, slowly and sweetly, just what the connection between these four men actually is, even as the movie tackles the relationship between fathers and sons, masters and, well, servants.... One of the servants here is played by the swell Judy Parfitt, whose final scene will bring a tear to your eye without even the tiniest bit of arm-twisting.

In fact, this forswearing of the over-bearing is the key to the movie's great success. Mr. Sharp, when given the opportunity, was one sharp, uncluttered writer, and Mr. Fraser has achieved exactly the right pace and tone so that the film unfurls as a kind of perfect blend of location, presentation and performance.

Where the hell did this wonderful movie come from? I'd never heard of it until I noticed it one recent day on Netflix streaming. The "distributor" (and I use the word loosely) may provide a clue. That would be Miramax, which, when Dean Spanley first appeared (end of 2008 into 2009), was undergoing a separation from Disney (a company it never should have "married" to begin with), and so the film -- much better and subtler than so much of the Disney stuff -- seems to have been buried in the shuffle that occurs when a distribution company moves from one owner to another, receiving neither a theatrical nor a timely DVD release here.

Well, it's got that "release" now via Netflix streaming, where it will no doubt pull in the huge cult following it so surely deserves. You can also find it on DVD and Amazon Instant Video. (I understand, from Wikipedia, that it has also been shown on cable TV at some point, so perhaps you were lucky enough to catch it there.)

On-Demand: Danny Dyer in zombie romp DOGHOUSE from Jake West/Dan Schaffer

The war between men and women takes a new and decidedly misogynistic leap forward (or backward, depending on your view) with the new zombie movie DOGHOUSE (as in, woman to man, "You're in the dog-
house now, buddy!"). It is hard not to agree that these guys ought to be exactly there, next to Fido. A dumber, more clueless bunch of male morons would be difficult to find. Fortunately, these guys are funny, too -- once you get past some initial difficulty understanding the dialog (this film could use English subtitles for the Brit-vernacular-impaired).

The heavy-duty accents do finally become more understandable. They seem to grow on you, as do the men and their movie. Written by newcomer to film Dan Schaffer and directed by the nearly old-timer Jake West (shown at left), the film makes it clear from the start that these meathead misogynists need upending. And, lord, do they get it. On a supposed "male retreat" during which they want to reconnect with their masculinity -- as though they were ever for a moment disconnected from it -- in one of those homey little British towns (below) of which a modern Miss Marple might approve, our crew comes upon something extremely disturbing that allows them to give vent to every misogynist thought, word and deed you could possibly imagine.

This situation is a double-, maybe even triple-edged sword. Because, while we can enjoy the blood and guts provided by this sort of film, seeing it done only by men to women, creates a constant provocation, even though, plot-wise, this is something that simply must be done.  If the men were not so funny and idiotically macho (the always amusing and naughty Danny Dyer, below, is leader of the pack), this would be difficult for all but the most die-hard woman-haters to handle. And just when it seems that misogyny has won, the filmmakers come up with a priceless finale that, I suspect, will leave both men and women (if any of the latter are still watching) amused and provoked in equal proportion.

Unlike last year's better -- and far creepier -- Deadgirl, Doghouse is a spoof and so exhibits all or most of its genre's requirements.  The film's "monsters" come from all walks of life (this makes for some fun), and in all ages and boob sizes (which actually gives some of our men some very funny second thoughts).  The mostly male cast is quite game (only one woman has a major role that requires life-like acting), but it's the make-up department and its artists that deserves some sort of joint award for their combined efforts here.

West and his cinematographer Ali Asad put their widescreen video compositions to pretty good use: Yes, gore is often first and foremost but there are also some smart shots scattered along the way (see below). For those of us who keep asking for better reanimations of the zombie genre, this little film, in its own clever/nasty way, delivers (some of) the goods.

Doghouse, from IFC's Festival Direct On-Demand service, began its run this past Wednesday, June 9, as part of the continuing IFC Midnight series and should be available for the next several months.  Click here to determine if -- and how -- you can get it.