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This is a common warning among many that sharing custody a pet post-separation is ill-advised. Most will argue such setups prevent ex-partners from healing, create logistical nightmares, spark arguments, and become annoying across the board. As it turns out, as a development suited to a direct-to-platform film, it can even cause the dogs themselves to become depressed.

While respecting the inner life of animals – pet parents observe their deep emotional capacity. For a prime example in canine melancholy, simply recall recent cinema. I firmly believe that a dog like Merv, a spirited little dog portrayed by Gus the Dog, would have a hard time adapting to divided living arrangements. The idea of basing a feature-length romcom around this situation is sustainable remains a questionable prospect.

Standard Holiday Fare

To its credit, Merv, written by the writing duo and helmed by playwright Jessica Swale, doesn't pretend to be more profound than what it is. We have here a seasonal offering from a major tech-and-media conglomerate – the ambitions is limited. The plot is destined to be uncomplicated: exes Russ (Charlie Cox) and Anna (Zooey Deschanel), confronting that their individual funk is surpassed by their dog's, decide on a therapeutic trip to a canine-centric retreat. At this location, predictably, they will presumably stumble toward the idea that they should reunite. The supporting cast – including familiar faces – fulfill roles eccentric, underutilized, or over-the-top. Its aesthetic is reminiscent of a platform's in-house production, with a holiday backdrop that is visibly contrived – think obvious snow effects piled on lush pines as North Carolina substitutes for a cold December city.

Where the Film Shines

If these familiar elements come together into something enjoyable depends on the actors' work and one's taste for easy entertainment. For the comfort factor, Merv hones in on a demographic – the kind who seek out for dog videos. The film delivers a plethora of scenes focused on the pet. The main attraction is the dog, and though it results in some clunky cuts between animal action and the actors' responses, the movie delivers on canine party antics, canine sorrow, and, finally, pure puppy happiness.

Where It Wobbles

This level of success cannot be applied for the human side of the story. The tone shifts uneasily between emotional depth, zany antics, formulaic romance, and outright slapstick, failing to master any one mode. No blame falls on the actor playing Russ, who is willing to embrace the absurd and awkward demanded of the dog resort scenario. He brings a likable self-deprecation that supplies much of the film's charm for this on-the-rocks couple. Her co-star Deschanel, true to her usual style, imparts a certain millennial quirkiness that will click for some but not others. Her Anna can feel a little too aloof, notably when paired with Cox's vulnerable performance. (It should be noted, the canine performer manages flopping and whining – not quite Messi from that acclaimed drama, he is still an excellent dog.)

The story strives to give weight to the central romance for moments when the dog is absent – which is unfortunate, considering the title character is undoubtedly the cutest element of this cute-aiming movie. Expectedly, it meets the bare minimum. The catalyst for their separation would feel more adult and realistic with greater exploration and less blunt explanation. Ultimately, Merv is slight and sweet, fulfilling precisely what you anticipate. Crafting a story with this canine conflict is not terrible – even if it's hardly a brilliant concept.

• Merv streams on Amazon Prime Video this December.