Naomi Watts and a Great Dane Grieve, Dog Lovers Rejoice

“What’s going to happen to the dog?”

This sentence is repeated close to a dozen times in The Friend, an adaptation of Sigrid Nunez’s novel about a woman, a ghost and a 180-pound Great Dane, and it’s the second biggest question that haunts this gently funny, deeply mournful movie. (It opens in New York and Los Angeles on March 28th, and hits wide-release theaters on April 4th.) For starters, there’s the dog’s owner, Walter (Bill Murray). Out for a jog one morning, he spies the solo pooch and decides to take him home. Walter is a bit of a cliché: the talented, older male novelist who teaches at a prestigious university, and is renowned for seducing his female students as much as he is for his literary legacy. He’s an irascible, charming rascal with several marriages and plenty of problematic affairs under his belt. Think Philip Roth, if played by — well, Bill Murray.

A long time ago, Iris (Naomi Watts) was one of those young women who fell under Walter’s dizzying spell. But she was lucky. Rather than being cast out of his inner circle after they slept together, i.e. his usual modus operandi, Iris became his [gasp] close friend. He recognized this aspiring writer’s talent yet did not consider her competition, and mentored her to the point that he felt comfortable pairing Iris with his grown daughter, Val (Stereophonic‘s Sarah Pidgeon), to help edit and publish a book of his past correspondence. Much of this will be gleaned in dribs and drabs along the way, however, because you’ve no sooner met this eloquent relic of the past than he quickly shuffles off this mortal coil. His sudden departure is as shocking as it is tragic.

The funeral bells have barely stopped tolling before Barbara (Noma Dumezweni), the second of Walter’s three wives, requests a word with Iris. It turns out that the late, great man of letters insisted that Iris be the one to take care of his beloved Great Dane, Apollo, upon his passing. She declines. How can she possibly house this humongous beast in her tiny West Village apartment? Why can’t Walter’s estranged first wife, Elaine (Carla Gugino), foster him? Or his widowed third wife, Tuesday (Constance Wu), care for the giant, sad-eyed animal? Besides, Iris has an editorial deadline looming. Not to mention she’s a cat person.

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Still, Iris ends up taking Apollo in, much to the amusement of her neighbors — “You seem to have a pony on your bed,” observes one fellow tenant — and the ire of the building’s superintendent (Ozark‘s Felix Solis). The creature quickly takes over the space. He’s also depressed over the loss of his primary human. Iris has no idea what to do with a dog in a big city, or how to get Apollo out of his funk. Which brings up the main question that hovers over The Friend: How do you deal with another’s overwhelming flood of grief in parallel with your own?

There’s a version of this story that’s nothing but a cutesy cinematic treat for canine enthusiasts, a sort of Gotham-ized Marley & Me that balances doggy-style hijinks with platitude-filled life lessons. And trust us when we tell you there is no shortage of “awww” reaction shots from the film’s resident good boy, played by a Great Dane named Bing who’s got as much star power as any of the A-list actors flexing their chops onscreen. Walter initially describes the somewhat “magical” meeting between him and Apollo at a dinner party. When we get to finally see that encounter played out in full, Bing is shot from below, underneath the Manhattan bridge and framed against a clear blue sky. It’s the sort of composition that directors used to give John Wayne, Vivien Leigh, and other Golden Age of Hollywood stars.

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Not that the humans don’t hold their own against this four-legged scene stealer — should anyone somehow need a reminder that Naomi Watts is an absolutely extraordinary and remarkably subtle screen actor, they’ll get ample evidence here. There are two scenes, one involving a therapy session and another involving a posthumous “conversation” with Walter, that both highlight her strengths and ground the emotional elements of this occasionally raw-nerve take on the wreckage that suicides leave behind. (As for Murray, he’s in The Friend for less than a total of 10 minutes, yet he makes the most of his brief time and ensures that Walter’s presence, not to mention his absence, is underlined throughout.)

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But filmmakers David Siegel and Scott McGehee (Suture, What Maisie Knew, the criminally underrated Montana Story) are after bigger targets than just heartstrings, PETA endorsements and tourism-board accolades, even if they do shoot lower Manhattan with a swooning affection usually reserved for lovers. They get that this isn’t just a story about a woman bonding with a dog — it’s a tale of loss and sorrow that inherently knows such heavy feelings aren’t confined to a single species. And it’s the combination of this duo’s ability to lean into the deep connections forged from mutual wounding without devolving into fully soppy, sentimental mess, the humanity of Watts’ performance and the way the camera loves her enormous, perky-eared costar (Bing, not Bill) that truly does make The Friend feel like more than just a valentine to pets, New York, and New York pets. What’s going to happen the dog? He’s going to be all right. So will his owner. So will you.