Beverly Hills Chihuahua is not as terrible or as racist as I thought it would be. I laughed out loud more than a few times, but then again, I also laugh at YouTube videos of cats falling into toilets.
The film tells the tale of Chloe, a pampered Chihuahua who, upon becoming lost in Mexico, attempts to return home to Beverly Hills. As you might expect, she encounters many colorful characters, loses her tiny pink cashmere sweater, and finds her true "bark." Strangely enough, though, Beverly Hills Chihuahua also deals with issues like class, nationality, and identity better than most mainstream Hollywood movies—and that's nothing to bark at!
I could discuss the plot in greater detail, but I find it more prudent to list the silly crap I found amusing. For instance, one of Chloe's friends is a foppish pug who enjoys seaweed wraps! The filmmakers don't avoid innuendo to dog sex! (One testosterone-filled pup desires to "chew hard to reach [Chloe's] hard to reach places.") The coyote hired to sneak Chloe into the US is literally a coyote. There are also amazing lines like, "We are Mexicans, not Mexican'ts."
Frankly, I'm surprised this movie wasn't made long ago: BHC is one of those bewildering mishmashes of postmodern American culture that in retrospect seem inevitable, like Celebrity Rehab or Hannah Montana light-up hair extensions. I mean, of course someone would combine the ubiquitous trends of lap dogs and pampered American princesses and make an adventure movie, right? And why stop at just one? I have a million ideas for sequels if Disney is interested: Beverly Hills Chihuahua in Space, Beverly Hills Chihuahua Escapes Guantanamo Bay, or Red, White, and Chihuahua: Chloe Goes to Washington. We need to cash in before Puggles or French Bulldogs usurp the Chihuahua's throne as queen of the boutique dogs.