In one sentence: Eat Pray Bark follows a group of struggling dog owners who head to the Austrian mountains for training, only to discover that it is not just their dogs in need of discipline.

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There are times when a film is best enjoyed for pure entertainment and Eat Pray Bark perfectly fits the brief. With a charming premise, beautiful scenery and a very easy on the eye leading man, it offers wholesome viewing that is difficult to resist.

The film follows five dog owners from very different walks of life who all have one thing in common; their dogs are in desperate need of training. They travel to Tyrol to seek help from the mysterious Nodon (Rúrik Gíslason), a dog trainer with a passion for Celtic culture and the appearance of a modern day Viking. What begins as a training retreat soon becomes something more revealing as both owners and their canine companions are put through their paces, learning that behavioural issues are rarely just a one way street.

If ever there was a film to watch for its leading man, this might be it. Icelandic former footballer turned actor Rúrik Gíslason is undeniably striking and the film is well aware of it. However, there is more to him than just eye candy. He brings a natural charm and comedic timing to the role, delivering lines with ease and making Nodon more than just a handsome distraction. The ensemble cast also hold their own. Alexandra Maria Lara plays a dog-averse politician attempting to repair her image, while Doğa Gürer and David Striesow portray an age-gap couple with a particularly temperamental handbag dog. Anna Herrmann and Kerim Waller round out the group with characters that hint at deeper emotional undercurrents.

Unsurprisingly, it is often the dogs who steal the show. Nodon’s tiny companion, Heidi, is a standout, full of personality and perfectly timed comic moments. The film cleverly uses the dogs as reflections of their owners, highlighting how closely behaviour and emotion are intertwined. As someone with a poodle who rarely leaves my side, this dynamic feels particularly resonant. Beneath the light-hearted surface, there are some genuinely insightful observations about responsibility, connection and the ways people unknowingly shape those around them.

The humour occasionally leans into the daft, but it remains gentle and good-natured throughout. The title may be a little on the corny side, but the movie earns its warmth where it matters. The film is self-aware enough to poke fun at its own premise, particularly through Nodon, who reveals more depth than his initial persona suggests. His interest in Celtic culture adds an unexpected layer, reinforcing the longstanding bond between humans and their canine companions.

Visually, the film is a treat. The landscapes of Tyrol are stunning, providing a scenic backdrop that enhances the film’s calming, almost therapeutic tone. It is refreshing to see a European setting take centre stage and it is even more encouraging that the film is in the top ten in many countries on Netflix. As audiences become more open to subtitles, films like this play an important role in broadening access to different cultures, voices and styles of storytelling.

Eat Pray Bark may not be chasing awards, but that is not really the point. It is a film that knows exactly what it is. It is warm, undemanding and charming. Sometimes cinema is about challenge and sometimes it is about comfort. This sits firmly in the latter category and earns its place. Ultimately, it may be the dogs being trained, but it is the people who have the most to learn.

★★★ (3/5)