We’re always whining at Hollywood for not being sufficiently inclusive. Why aren’t there more films focused on old people? Why don’t more films involve Asian communities? That sort of thing.

With that in mind, it's only fair to nod tolerantly when a major studio releases a film set among flag-saluting, gun-owning, God-bothering citizens of Wherever, Texas. We really don't see too many of them in cinema. The most brutally violent family film put before audiences since The Ten Commandments, Max concerns the retirement of a stressed German Shepherd following years of loyal service in Operation Enduring Freedom. It's the canine American Sniper.

When his owner is killed in action, Max finds himself billeted with the grieving family. They don’t approve of cussing. They believe God will provide. They get excited by flag-draped fire trucks on the 4th of July. None of which is worthy of the sneering tone I have adopted here. But we are minded to wonder why Warner Brothers bothered releasing the film in these territories. They may as well have launched a drama concerning the turtle-worshipping peoples of the Bok Bok Islands on European audiences.

Anyway, it soon becomes clear that the couple's surviving son has gone to the bad. We know this because he plays shoot-'em-ups and wears a T-shirt that (in homage to Team America: World Police?) bears the disrespectful slogan "'Murica!" There's worse. In another era, hooch or cigarettes might offer temptation. In 2015, the worst thing an entertainment giant can imagine is content theft. Who will save young Kyle from his descent into video-game piracy?

The dog, of course. To be fair, Max eventually turns into a reasonably nippy, adequately organised adventure in the style of Disney live-action TV specials from the Nixon era. In those days nobody would have objected to this degree of gunplay in a family movie. Nor should you. Hey buddy, if you don’t like it here, go and live in Russia (or its 21st century equivalent).