With his tire-on-a-murderous-rampage movie Rubber, Quentin Dupieux demonstrated a remarkable knack for making ridiculously weird films that are also ridiculously entertaining. (Those two don't often go together; generally, directors who are as fastidious as Dupieux about confounding narrative wind up making movies that punish their audience.) In Wrong, a man named Dolph Springer (Jack Plotnick) can’t seem to find his dog. His search brings him together with a horny pizza-delivery call center operator, a self-help guru specializing in human-dog telepathy named Master Chang (William Fichtner, even more delightful than usual), and a private detective with anger-management issues. At the same time, Springer’s job may be in jeopardy, and his landscaper embarks on a dangerous affair. We bounce from scene to scene, not really learning much about the story but having a pretty good time regardless. Wrong doesn’t feel quite as fresh as Rubber. There are a few too many bizarre flourishes with no payoff—the plot thread involving Springer’s job doesn’t do much for the film, for example, besides kill a few minutes. But ultimately, Wrong rings with a kind of goofy deadpan amorousness; it is at its heart a comedy about a man and his dog. (PAUL CONSTANT)