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It is a widely held belief in certain circles that jointly caring for a canine companion post-separation is ill-advised. Most will argue such setups impede ex-partners from finding closure, lead to scheduling chaos, fuel disputes, and prove frustrating for all parties. Seemingly, and in a twist suited to a direct-to-platform film, it reportedly leads to the dogs themselves to feel down.

Not to downplay the emotional well-being of dogs – countless people attest to their profound sensitivity. If you need standout portrayal in canine melancholy, one need only look recent cinema. I firmly believe that a dog such as Merv, a spirited little dog brought to life by a talented dog named Gus, would find it difficult adapting to divided living arrangements. Whether this premise a feature-length romcom on such a setup works effectively is rather doubtful.

Predictable Foundations

To its credit, Merv, the work of its screenwriters and under the guidance of playwright Jessica Swale, makes no grand claims anything more than its premise. This is a holiday release from a major tech-and-media conglomerate – the depth remains surface-level. Its storyline unfolds as straightforward: former spouses Russ, played by Charlie Cox and Anna (Zooey Deschanel), realizing that their own sadness is rivaled only by their dog's, decide on a uplifting getaway to a dog-friendly resort. There, inevitably, they will presumably stumble toward the idea that they should reunite. Side characters – including familiar faces – fulfill roles quirky, thinly written, or broadly comic. Visually has the quality of a streaming service original, with a wintry atmosphere that is visibly contrived – as seen in flurries piled on verdant foliage as a summer location stands in for the Northeast.

Where the Film Shines

If these familiar elements merge into something enjoyable depends on the execution and an acceptance of comfort viewing. On the latter point, Merv knows its audience – individuals who scroll endlessly for dog videos. The film delivers a wealth of adorable dog montages. The central draw is the dog, and even if it causes some clunky cuts between animal action and human reaction, the movie does offer dog beach fun, canine sorrow, and, in the end, pure puppy happiness.

Where It Wobbles

Such effectiveness cannot be applied for the human side of the story. Its style shifts uneasily between serious study, zany antics, predictable love story, and physical comedy, never fully committing to any one mode. This is not Charlie Cox, who is admirably committed the absurd and awkward demanded of the bizarre setting. Cox exhibits a endearing lack of ego that provides the bulk of the chemistry for this seemingly ideal couple. Anna's portrayer, as is her trademark, imparts a distinctive offbeat energy that will click for some but not others. The character seems a little too aloof, especially when alongside Cox's genuine sadness. (On another note, Gus the Dog succeeds in looking despondent – not quite a canine thespian of that caliber, he is still a scene-stealer.)

The story strives to provide depth to Anna and Russ's relationship for scenes without their pet – a regrettable choice, given that Merv is by far the best part of this feel-good picture. As one might predict, it just about gets by. The reason for the split would feel more nuanced with greater exploration and fewer direct statements. Ultimately, Merv is gentle and pleasant, meeting all its marks. Making a film on this shared-custody premise isn't a bad idea – even if it's not exactly a stroke of genius.

• Merv streams on Prime Video this December.