And while The Simpsons Movie gave us Spider-Pig, it also gave us 90 minutes of something we used to enjoy in 22.
Still, perhaps a sheepdog trial epic will break the curse.
This announcement has already shaken the rural entertainment scene.
It’s a scene that, until now, has been dominated by the Kiwitahi Little Theatre’s production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and the scandal that erupted when Old Man Ian turned up in fishnets and a suspiciously well-fitting corset.
Now, we risk seeing stock agents moonlighting as talent agents, wandering paddocks with iPhones, angling for the perfect light to capture the next big woolly breakout star.
“She’s got something,” they’ll whisper, watching a ewe blink slowly into the wind, “Bit of a young Meryl about her”.
Welcome to Woollywood.
Of course, the casting team will likely stick with local legends.
Dogs called Jess, Pip, Meg, Boss and maybe a young upstart named Flash who’s got a bit of attitude but a good heart.
These are proper working dogs.
Dogs who know that the sound of a tailgate opening means it’s time to get serious.
Dogs that can move three stubborn ewes across a muddy paddock using only eye contact and Chiefs mana.
And speaking of ewes, they’ll need to bring their A-game. This film isn’t just about the dogs.
Expect strong supporting roles from Meryl Sheep, Wool Smith, Ewen McGregor, and, if we’re lucky, Judi Drench as the old ewe who refuses to budge through the final gate.
Plot-wise, it almost writes itself.
An ageing triallist and their trusty dog take one last shot at glory.
There’s a wise neighbour who only speaks in parables. A grumpy rival from across the valley. A sheep that goes rogue and causes chaos at regionals.
A moment of quiet in the mist, the handler gives a nod, the dog swings wide. The crowd holds its breath. The music swells. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry.
It’s Top Gun with more wool and less volleyball.
Instead of shirtless Tom Cruise flexing under the sun, you’ll get a retired shepherd oiling his gate hinges while muttering, “Used to be better dogs in my day”.
Naturally, the soundtrack needs to come from Dave Dobbyn.
You’ll hear the first chord and know deep down, this is the moment it all comes together. And yes, you’ll cry again.
And if you’re picturing glitzy city premieres, think again.
The first screening won’t be in a theatre with valet parking and a flute of French bubbles. It’ll be in a woolshed in Waimate or Waipukurau.
Hay bales for seating. Fairy lights strung around the drafting pen.
A local MC who also doubles as the projectionist.
The catering will be classic.
Sausage rolls (pork, of course – anything lamb-based would be offensive to the cast). Cheese rolls, crisp and curling at the edges. Tux biscuits tipped out into ice cream containers. Someone’s mum pouring instant coffee into polystyrene cups. And the only bubbles will be cask wine mixed with SodaStream.
Dress code? Formal farmwear: Harlequin shorts, a fleece without visible holes and gumboots that have had the worst of the mud hosed off.
No limousines – just a tidy row of Hiluxes with a minimum of 300,000km on the clock. Just broken in, really.
And there’ll be no concrete cowboys in freshly pressed jeans, RM Williams boots and North Face puffers that have never seen a real frost. Not tonight. This premiere is for the real farmers, not the spreadsheet warriors.
And if it works —who knows what comes next?
Country Calendar: The Movie.
Woolly Valley V: The Flystrike’s Back.
We could see the birth of an entire Farm Cinematic Universe, our Marvel Universe.
But right now, it’s all about the dogs.
The ones who’ve been doing Oscar-worthy work for decades without asking for applause.
The ones who’ll give you 110% and still act like they’ve let you down.
The ones who work through rain, hail or thunder – although they’ll accept a triangle biscuit and a scratch under the collar for their efforts.
So that’s how I see the A Dog’s Show movie going … But will I go and see it?
Probably not.
Because for me, A Dog’s Show belongs on a Sunday night. On the telly. With a cup of tea and a couple of gingernuts.
It needs to stay a bit grainy, a bit unpredictable, like that one ewe who just refuses to be bossed around.
You know the one. It bolts right past the gate, straight into the crowd, trailling glory and defiance in equal measure.
And that’s exactly why I love it the way it was.
Not the Woollywood remake.
