If Jake Coyle’s incessant punning is the kind of humor (“Shears Out”? Seriously?) he thinks ought to permeate “The Sheep Detectives,” I’ll take a pass. This is what is wrong with film criticism and arts criticism in general: there is no understanding, much less appreciation, for whimsy, or for wholesomeness, much less the difference between a rural and an urban sensibility. I have not seen the film, but my wife has read (and enjoyed) the book, and both of us have raised and tended a small flock of sheep, and lived in small towns. We are also extremely tired of the cynicism – nay nihilism – of our 21st century storytelling. I’ll take “The Sheep Detectives” over “Succession” any day of the week.