Isle of Dogs

Cast: (voiced by) Bryan Cranston, Edward Norton, Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum, Bob Balaban, Kunichi Nomura, Ken Watanabe, Greta Gerwig, Frances McDormand, Fisher Stevens, Nijiro Murakami, Harvey Keitel, Koyu Rankin, Liev Schreiber, Scarlett Johansson, Akira Ito, Akira Takayama, F. Murray Abraham, Yojiro Noda, Mari Natsuki, Yoko Ono, Frank Wood

Director: Wes Anderson

Writer: Wes Anderson

When someone says they’re making an animated movie about dogs, this isn’t the kind of movie you expect them to make. But then, there isn’t really anybody out there who makes movies quite like Wes Anderson. His second foray into feature-length animation after Fantastic Mr. Fox, Isle of Dogs takes us far away from the childishly delightful All Dogs Go to Heaven to a morbid fable with a twisted sense of humour and a lot of bite. There is grisly imagery throughout the film from a dog getting its ear bitten off to a human character getting a bolt stuck in his head to a school of squirming fish getting chopped up to make sushi, all making for a PG film where the PG actually means something. Yet that doesn’t necessarily mean this movie isn’t for kids. Those who can handle it will find by the end that Isle of Dogs is a surprisingly soft-hearted and even endearing movie.

The movie is set in a post-apocalyptic, futuristic Japan where an outbreak of a canine virus in the city of Megasaki leads the autocratic mayor Kobayashi to sign a decree banishing all dogs to Trash Island. The first dog to be exiled is his own orphaned nephew’s dependable dog Spots. The 12-year-old Atari, bereft for having lost his best friend, ventures to Trash Island to search for him. There he crosses paths with “a pack of scary, indestructible alpha dogs”. There’s Rex, a gutsy house dog desperate to return to his master; Duke, a gossipy hound; King, the former star of a commercial for dog food; and Boss, the mascot for a high school Baseball team. Leading them, as far as any alpha dog can lead a pack of alpha dogs, is Chief, a vicious tramp who is deeply mistrustful when it comes to humans. When the pack agrees to help Atari in his search (they take a vote on it, just like they do when faced with pretty much anything), Chief only agrees to join them at the insistence of purebred show dog Nutmeg.

One of the things that makes Isle of Dogs compelling to watch is that the story can be pretty much whatever you want it to be. If you want to look at it as an allegory for disenfranchisement where the unfortunate mutts are stand-ins for those who live in the margins of our society (or even for animals if you want to look at it in more of an animal rights kind of way), it works. If you want to watch it as the simple tale of a boy and his dog embarking on a quest together and forming an affectionate bond that transcends species and language, that also works. There is much that the film leaves open for the viewer to interpret however they see fit. While all the canine barks, growls, and howls are delivered in English, the human Japanese dialogue is left largely untranslated save the occasional interpretations of a Frances McDormand character. The intention here is for the viewer to infer the meaning through the context and emotion of the moment, though some have criticised this approach, saying that it serves to cast the Japanese characters (as opposed to all human characters) as villainous ‘others’. Considering that one of the more heroic human characters is Tracy, an American white girl voiced by Greta Gerwig who speaks English, I can understand why this route has proven problematic (although, in light of how her ultimate confrontation with Kobayshi actually turns out, I don’t agree with the notion that she is a white saviour).

What was quite clear to me is that Anderson is quite enamoured with Japanese culture and desperately wanted to convey some of its aesthetics to an American and European audience. It follows a recent tradition in children’s animation with such films as Moana, Kubo and the Two Strings, and Coco of portraying stories from non-Western cultures with histories, traditions, and values that differ from our own (with admittedly varying degrees of success). As a Brit who has never even set foot in Japan, I am far from qualified to judge whether or not Anderson’s depiction of Japan is accurate or perceptive. It seems to me however that there is a strong effort being made by Anderson to engage with Japan’s culture and to try and find that fine line between appropriation and appreciation. Kunichi Nomura, the voice of Kobayashi, shares a writing credit, the cast features a great range of Japanese names from Ken Watanabe to Yoko Ono (of all people!), and there is no shortage of identifiably Japanese imagery to point at such as taiko drums, sumo wrestlers, sushi, a mushroom cloud explosion and various nods to Akira Kurosawa. Whether what we see is simply a white Westerner’s distortion of Japan is a question I will have to leave to others, but I do believe that in order for progress to be made, honest, well-meaning efforts do have to be attempted even if there are some mistakes along the way.

As far as the visual aesthetics go, I must say that I was blown away. Anderson has distinguished himself as a terrific visual director time and time again with his love of vibrant colours and symmetry and his idiosyncratic attention to detail and his style is put on full display coupled with the splendid use of stop-motion animation. The movie has a scratchy texture that contrasts with the technical precision of his compositions and allows the setting of Trash Island and the dogs that inhabit it to feel harsh and unrefined while still also strangely elegant. The landscapes of mountains and shelters made up of multi-coloured refuse are utterly breathtaking. The movie puts particular care into the movements and mannerisms of the dogs themselves, going so far as to show their fur shuddering in the breeze, and it uses certain flourishes that enable them to feel truly active such as animating the fight scenes to look like a swirling dust cloud with random limbs sticking out like something from a children’s comic book. It’s that level of detail that enables the film to feel as remarkably physical as stop-motion animated films are uniquely able to feel.

As many people have noticed, the title is a homonym for ‘I love dogs’ and it’s essentially a promise that this movie will offer something of a love letter to the canines of the world and will appeal to all the dog lovers out there. As a lifelong dog lover myself, I think the movie delivers on that promise in spades. Not only are these mutts fun and interesting characters in their own right, but the movie is able to find much humour and heart in their canine behaviour and personality. There’s a good example of dog logic used in an exchange between Chief and Nutmeg where he asks why he should bother to help Atari and she answers, ‘because he’s a twelve year old boy, dogs love those’. The movie is a celebration of the bond that humans and dogs share and the friendship that eventually forms between Atari and Chief is as moving as it is unlikely. The film is not without it’s problems, many of them to do with the grey area between cultural appropriation and appreciation that the movie inhabits, but there is more than enough humour, style and charm to make Isle of Dogs an enjoyable watch.




Cast: Michael Caine, Harvey Keitel, Rachel Weisz, Paul Dano, Jane Fonda

Director: Paolo Sorrentino

Writer: Paolo Sorrentino

I was first introduced to Paolo Sorrentino when I saw his Oscar winning film The Great Beauty back in 2013, a marvellously contemplative film that was partly about the past as a reflection. By having his main character reflect on a certain memory from his youth, Sorrentino provided an exquisite composition of romanticism, nostalgia, desire and regret. These are themes that are featured prominently in Youth, which is essentially a film about how life is lived. It is about the struggles of aging, the past as a memory, the future as an ideal, and the finality of death. The film reflects on these themes through art, providing a musician and a film director as its two central characters. Both are men who have dedicated their lives to art in their attempts to find meaning in life. In essence Youth is a film about what could’ve been, what might be, and what is.

Fred Ballinger (Michael Caine) is a retired composer and conductor on holiday in the Swiss Alps. With him is his best friend of many years, the film director Mick Boyle (Harvey Keitel) who is currently working on the screenplay of what he believes will be his magnum opus. Together they spend their days talking about the lives they’ve lived and contemplating the lives of those around them. Amongst them are Fred’s daughter Lena (Rachel Weisz) and the actor Jimmy Tree (Paul Dano). Fred is approached by an emissary for Queen Elizabeth II to conduct his ‘Simple Songs’, his most famous compositions, in a royal performance. Fred refuses without giving a reason why. Over the course of this holiday Fred reflects on his life and all of the joys and sorrows he has known and caused, wondering if there is anything left for him to live on for.

Youth is the kind of film where you’re either going to be completely absorbed or utterly bored. The narrative is not so much driven by story as it is by thoughts. It takes a philosophical approach to its themes with the melancholy musings of its two central characters coupled with an air of surrealism. Just like in The Great Beauty Sorrentino continues to be influenced by Fellini with his dream-like sequences, contemplative tone, and portrayals of beauty. As well as the representation of visual beauty provided by the Miss Universe character, Youth conveys emotional beauty through art. The beauty of music, in Fred’s eyes, is that it is universal; it is something that can be understood by everyone regardless of age, language or culture. There is a particularly moving scene where he sits in a field conducting a herd of cows, basking in the music of the mundane and ordinary. Mick’s art meanwhile is film and here he is struggling with the ending of his screenplay which never seems quite profound enough. What seems to separate these two art forms, in this particular instance at least, is that film requires meaning whereas music is pure in its form. Perhaps that is why Fred seems so unsentimental and withdrawn, because he’s not trying to find any meaning in his life.

The search for meaning is something that occupies the thoughts of every character apart from Fred. Mick’s job is to create meaning through stories and it is his hope that this film will allow him to understand the story of his own life. Lena seeks to understand her father and why it is that he chose to live his life as a musician rather than as a husband or a father. Jimmy meanwhile is wandering about aimlessly through life and is unsure which way he should go. Even as they find the answers that they all seek, they also find that the quest for meaning is a never-ending one. Even Fred is undergoing such a quest, although he doesn’t realise it. Caine provides a nuanced performance as this character as he lives his life of solitude, finding mild amusement in the lives of those around him and occasionally pondering his own life. What he eventually finds is that there is a part of his life that he’s been hiding from which he must finally confront. The scene in which he reveals the real reason for his refusal to perform the concert and makes this realisation is a moving one made all the better by Caine’s astounding performance.

There is a real beauty to Youth in all of its deep contemplation, quiet tragedy and melancholy romance. In their searches for meaning the characters find significance in the everyday and beauty in the unexpected. They discover truths about themselves both joyous and painful. By the end of the film each character’s perception of life has been altered in a fundamental way. The universal search for meaning could be construed as the search for happiness and, while not every character finds it, they all more or less achieve some form of satisfaction (or maybe acceptance would be a better word) for better or for ill. The climax of this film consists of a resoundingly moving scene that drives home the emotional profundity of art. Youth is a thoughtful, poetic and beautiful film that offers a meaningful meditation on life and art.