Honeymoon (1928): That Dog Was the Real Star 🐾

So, Honeymoon (1928). Is this one for your Saturday night? Honestly, probably not for everyone. If you’re really into old-school slapstick and a super goofy premise, you might actually get a kick out of it. But if silent films aren’t your jam, or you need deep plots and character arcs, you’ll probably bounce off this pretty quick. It’s a curiosity, for sure.

The whole thing starts like a standard love triangle, you know? Two men, Harry Gribbon and Bert Roach, are duking it out for the affections of a young woman. She picks Roach’s character, and Gribbon, in what seems like a grand gesture of defeat, gives them this amazing German Shepherd as a wedding gift. What a guy, right?

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Honeymoon (1928) through its definitive frames.

Yeah, not so much. 😈

Turns out, that dog, named Flash, has been trained to keep *everyone* away from the bride. And I mean everyone. The new husband, the maid, even the mailman, I bet. It’s a bizarre, genius, and frankly, kind of evil plan for sabotaging a marriage.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Honeymoon (1928) through its definitive frames.

And Flash the Dog? He is the absolute star of this movie. No question. Every scene he's in, you just can't take your eyes off him. The way he sniffs around, the way he barks exactly when he needs to, or that intense stare when someone gets too close to the bride… it’s just perfect.

There's this bit where the husband is just trying to give his new wife a hug, a simple, sweet moment. And Flash is *immediately* there, pushing him away, nipping at his heels. It happens over and over, and each time, it’s both frustrating for the characters and pretty hilarious for us watching. The commitment from Flash is just something else.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Honeymoon (1928) through its definitive frames.

Polly Moran, playing a nosy maid, gets caught up in a lot of the dog-induced chaos. Her facial expressions are gold, you can practically hear her shouting in a silent film. She’s got this great, exasperated look that sells every bit of the physical comedy. You can almost feel her trying to push through the absurdity of the situation.

The pacing is… well, it’s a silent film. Sometimes a reaction shot lingers so long it almost becomes funny again, then you remember it’s part of the era. The gags are pretty simple, building on the same premise again and again. But the sheer ridiculousness of the dog’s mission keeps it from getting too boring, for a while at least.

You can tell the filmmakers knew they had a gem with Flash. They really lean into his antics. There’s a scene where the husband tries to sneak past the dog, thinking he’s finally got the upper hand, and Flash just appears out of nowhere like a furry ninja. It’s a small detail, but it makes you grin. That dog has timing.

It’s not a masterpiece, not by any stretch. Some of the physical comedy feels a little dated, naturally. But if you watch it for Flash, for that truly unique, slightly bonkers premise, you’ll find some real charm here. It’s a snapshot of a different kind of filmmaking, where a trained animal could carry a whole movie. A solid example of a simple, effective gag stretched to feature length.