I watched the instant Disney classic “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” last night w/ H who loves these kinds of films. The Producers must have played the “Freaky Friday” card to get Jamie Lee Curtis in all of ten minutes of this low-grade-fever piece of dung. They unearthed  every Latino who may or may not have worked in the last 30 years to do the voice-overs of the dogs, occasional rat, and an iguana or komodo dragon (no, it had to be a iguana because there were no Chinese coolie voice-overs or fast-forwards to Bejing that I could tell)

Jamie Lee Curtis is a billionaire perfume designer who lives in a 180 room Beverly Hills village with a white short –hair chihuahua Princess who appears to suffer from constipation. No time for a husband, Jamie Lee’s closest relationships with two-legged mammals are with a Mexican Gardener whom she treats like a son and a spoiled niece who hangs out with her friends around the pool.

As fate would have it, the Mexican Gardener has a brown chiwauwau who has the hots for Ms. Lee’s Princess who, just like the spoiled niece, hangs around the pool with her weirdo dog friends (the prerequisite gay and materialistic girls) in lounge chairs designed just for them wearing the most ridiculous outfits you have ever seen.

The Two Princesses wound up in Mexico where polite, racial hi-jinks ensue.

Mindless goofiness aside, two strange things these types of films have to at least try to get right: One, choose cute dogs and two, don’t scrimp on the CGI.

As I watched the masterpiece I kept being drawn to the dog’s eyes that stood out like Afghanistan refuggees’ against the Disney-lit stages. You don’t have to look closely to see the degrees of shock, anger, and finally a lifeless resignation they leveled at their handlers and co-stars

It just occurred to me that to enjoy BHC even more you could mute the picture and listen/read passages from Jonathan Littell’s controversial WW II opus “The Kindly Ones.”

A 64-spice curry over walked-on cotton candy.