The depths of L. Fitzhamon's charlatanisme may never be fully measured, but "The Detective's Dog" may well be our best indicator thus far. Even a script as time-tested and predictable as 'pet bestows salvation upon master' is no match for Fitzhamon's directatorial numb-skullery. An offering which leaves a stronger residue of bile upon one's palate I have yet to sample.
The first mis-step is in the selection of canine picked to perform the titular 'Rover'; its screen presence appears to be massive enough to be capable of swallowing a carnival strong-man in one gulp! Any sensible human would sooner perish than risk being at the mercy of a creature of of such imposing stature. That any sane detective would keep such a monstrosity as a familiar is bamboozling. Additionally, the predicament our buffoonish flat-foot lands himself in is not explained by a single iota! Back-story is simply an obstacle to be plowed over and left in our director's wake.
I would strongly dis-courage the reader from even the act of taking in this picture to gawk at its startlingly inferior quality. It is not worth your time or your dollars! Resist!