CNN
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After the hoopla Netflix unleashed with “Tiger King,” its latest docuseries oddity might involve a different four-footed creature. Like that earlier sensation, “Gunther’s Millions” is really about the strange people featured, but its true insights expose how gullible media can be taken in by a too-good-to-be-true (or too-fun-to-fact-check) story – in this case, a German shepherd with a $400-million trust fund.
Spread over four parts, the story centers on a dog living in a posh Florida estate that once belonged to Madonna, equipped with his own staff of 27 regular employees. As for the money, it’s attributed to a German countess who loved the dog and, lacking surviving family, chose to leave him (and his Roman numeral-updated descendants) in the lap of luxury.
It’s fairly clear, however, that Gunther’s caretaker, an Italian pharmaceutical heir named Maurizio Mian, has his paws all over Gunther’s tale (or tail), which over the years included lavish real-estate purchases and surrounding the dog with a band of five models, known as the Burgundians, basically portrayed as human Ken and Barbie dolls. Yet what almost sounds like a joke (“Stay classy, Miami”) has a creepier aspect to it, reflecting Mian’s ideal of physical perfection and interest in conducting bizarre social experiments about the elusive nature of happiness.
Before it’s over, the series – directed by Aurelien Leturgie – will reveal a lot about the truth behind Gunther’s millions and the unanswered questions about the when, where and how of his fortune.
Long before that, there are parts of this story that don’t seem to pass the smell test, not that you’d know it by watching the news clips sprinkled throughout the docuseries – most from local TV outlets – which fall hook, line and sinker for the cute human-interest aspect of what they can bill as “the world’s richest dog.”
The whimsical nature of the presentation indicates that the filmmakers are positioning this as a kind of docu-comedy, down to the fidgety moments when Mian or one of Gunther’s “employees” balks at a question or, occasionally, asks the filmmakers to turn off the cameras.
Ultimately, though, there’s a darker side to “Gunther’s Millions” that serves at least as much as an indictment of those who gave Mian and others ample media exposure without pausing to consider the red flags that finally get waved during the last two chapters.
In this genre, earning the “weird” label can be half the battle, and “Gunther’s Millions” certainly qualifies. Still, the docuseries actually operates on various levels, and while its canine star (currently Gunther VI, incidentally) appears to be a good boy, the coverage surrounding him is evidence of how the media can go to the dogs in more ways than one.
“Gunther’s Millions” premieres February 1 on Netflix.
