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This is a widely held belief in certain circles that sharing custody a pet post-separation is ill-advised. The consensus suggests such arrangements impede former couples from finding closure, cause practical headaches, fuel disputes, and become annoying for all parties. Apparently, as a development fit for a direct-to-platform film, it can even cause the canine in question to experience sadness.

Without minimizing the mental health of our pets – countless people observe their profound sensitivity. If you need prime example in canine melancholy, consider another performance. I firmly believe that a dog like Merv, a scruffy terrier type brought to life by the canine actor Gus, would struggle coping with split households. The idea of basing a full holiday film on such a setup is sustainable is rather doubtful.

A Familiar Formula

Honestly, Merv, crafted by Dane Clark and Linsey Stewart and directed by playwright Jessica Swale, makes no grand claims deeper than a light film. It functions as a Christmas movie from a corporate studio – the complexity is limited. The plot unfolds as simple and direct: a separated couple Russ (Charlie Cox) and Anna (Zooey Deschanel), forced to acknowledge that their own sadness is surpassed by their dog's, embark on a uplifting getaway to a canine-centric retreat. Once there, as expected, they will undoubtedly rediscover the idea that they should reunite. Ensemble players – played by a group of comedic actors – serve as quirky, thinly written, or broadly comic. Its aesthetic carries the feel of a streaming service original, with a holiday backdrop that is clearly manufactured – as seen in fake snow piled on verdant foliage as a summer location stands in for the Northeast.

Where the Film Shines

Whether these familiar elements merge into something enjoyable depends on the strength of the performances and an acceptance of easy entertainment. Regarding the second aspect, Merv knows its audience – those people who scroll endlessly for pet content. It provides a wealth of canine-centric sequences. The central draw is the canine star, and while this leads to some awkward editing between animal action and human reaction, the movie does offer walking sequences, canine sorrow, and, ultimately, a tail-wagging resolution.

Where It Wobbles

The same praise cannot be applied for the interpersonal drama. Its style shifts uneasily between relationship drama, wacky comedy, standard rom-com beats, and outright slapstick, not quite landing a consistent feel. This is not Charlie Cox, who is fully game the silliness and cringe inherent in the unusual premise. Cox exhibits a endearing lack of ego that provides a significant portion of the appeal for this seemingly ideal couple. Anna's portrayer, true to her usual style, imparts a certain millennial quirkiness that will click for some but not others. Her Anna seems a bit too dry, particularly when alongside Cox's genuine sadness. (For what it's worth, the canine performer succeeds in flopping and whining – while no a canine thespian of that caliber, he's definitely an excellent dog.)

Merv tries to provide depth to the central romance for sequences focusing solely on them – which is unfortunate, since the dog is undoubtedly the best part of this cute-aiming movie. Expectedly, it achieves only baseline competence. The catalyst for the split would feel more nuanced with more screen time and fewer direct statements. As it stands, Merv is gentle and pleasant, hitting every expected note. Crafting a story with this canine conflict isn't a bad idea – though I wouldn't call it a stroke of genius.

• Merv streams on the Amazon platform this December.