by Joe Hammerschmidt
Eight years ago, I was formally introduced to the work of one Wesley Wales Anderson, Texan-born auteur with, as one would observe, a visionary style all his own. It was through animation, the genre I found most accessible to me, as a high school sophomore who hadn’t quite grown up all the way to more mature PG-13 fare. Wes’s artistry, his craft for telling a great story in unconventional methods spoke very true in Fantastic Mr. Fox, and had always stayed consistent with his works before and up to now, with the arrival of his ninth film, and a return to the stop-motion realm, Isle of Dogs. Needless to say, it’s a reflection of the man, his quirks, and by now in his career, a comfort level that’s always appreciated.
Right from the get-go, one is invited into a tranquil yet foreboding setting, a common Anderson staple. This time, it’s a futuristic Japanese city, the look better representing an old Kurosawa drama. The less-than-productive community of Megasaki faces a crippling epidemic, all caused by an overwhelming “canine saturation”, with multiple animals contributing a specific flu virus affecting the populous. Incumbent Mayor Kobayashi, at the cusp of reelection, had vowed to isolate and even remove the sickly canines in a crude quarantine.
Trapped on a man-made Trash Island, with many an outlandish security measure preventing any rebellious escape, only the toughest of mutts, and the bravest of humans could survive its harsh reality. Leave it to 12-year-old Atari (newcomer Koyu Rankin), the mayor’s adopted ward, to expose the hidden conspiracy in the city, while attempting to reunite with his lost bodyguard dog Spots (Liev Schreiber) on the island.
During the recon journey, Atari finds himself swept in the personalities of key residents, predominately a group of strays belonging in a special brotherhood, our core characters whose voices, many Anderson alums, only further lend to the film’s dramatic scale. Edward Norton’s Rex conveys a swift, perhaps soliloquizing envy to his plight, almost the dog of action against the real leader Chief (Bryan Cranston). His schtick is the gruff, stoic, un-agreeable type, a stray unwilling to adapt to a changing situation until it’s most convenient. Sitting on the foreground is Boss (Bill Murray), a former baseball team mascot with not the best luck but strong intentions, and whose presence can always be counted on for a few moments of quiet honesty. King (Bob Balaban) exudes a strong voice of experience, having survived the haze of celebrity as a commercial star, while Duke (Jeff Goldblum) best represents the gossipy know-it-all in everyone, always sticking his nose into too many people’s business while also playing a vital role to the team. One can only hope that part was written strictly with Goldblum in mind to share the strengths of his personality, his playful side only having shined greater last fall in Thor: Ragnarok.
In only the second PG-13 film in his canon, Anderson, alongside frequent collabs Roman Coppola, Jason Schwartzman, and Kunichi Nomura (assisting with cultural accuracy), have crafted a swirling tale that may only uncover more the deeper one is willing to go. Clearly, it was more than I expected; and knowing Anderson’s track record, it’s always a great thing when you know to leave the audience guessing. On its surface, the bleak dystopia blends well with the overall appreciation of man’s best friend,
complete with a poignant prologue and parallel to true life fact involving cats in Japan during a bygone era. Dive a little further and you’re akin to discover the shroud of scientific advancement and dirty politics wrapped up in that nifty conspiracy theory subplot; look for an energetic Greta Gerwig as Atari’s American equal in the cautious rebellion.
The Isle’s pleasing aesthetic only stands to expand that legendary Anderson lore a little further, leaving signature motifs throughout. Among the highlights: unconventional, non-straightforward forms of translating non-English dialect instead of just plain subtitles. We even go to the lengths of hiring on an interpreter (recent Oscar winner Francis McDormand in a zero-contest masterpiece cameo) to cover the more political examples and interject a smidgeon of raw humanity throughout; something not in short supply during the course of the storyline.
As for its enticing visual aesthetic, it won’t necessary blow anyone away, unless one’s easily impressed by mammoth-scaled storybook-like sets, and perhaps more substantial, new methods approached with sculpting fur on animals. Most animalian characters in stop motion in the past, you’d never see fur that could move and flow so gracefully with the wind; on Dogs, it looks so effortless despite it all being a bunch of extra work on behalf of the animators, especially with changing mouth shapes. DoP Tristan Oliver, a stop-motion veteran since Aardman in the 90s, could easily mistake a cautious viewer for a live action film with the most imaginative, albeit small scale visuals possible. Working with a director like Anderson, there is zero disconnect between mediums. Intense character closeups, long tracking shots, an almost play-like structure, and a boatload of whimsy all exist, and heighten their collective body of effectiveness in stop-motion. No way could this film be as finite in live-action, and risk losing some of its soul. The auditory element is bombastically fulfilled with an Alexandre Desplat score that almost sounds nothing like his usual work, between cues that sound borrowed from old 50s Japanese superhero films and a prevalent drum-based cadence that only serves to increase the tension at every moment.
For those hardcore Anderson fans, and all the dog lovers of the world, Isle of Dogs is an instant no-brainer. The director, who has yet to win an Oscar, but could now easily pose a large stake in the Animated Feature category next year, fills his work to the brim with compassion, drama, an appropriately childlike sense of abandon, and a trifle of action in the wake of family protection. And all this with his unique pivots of storytelling, a perfect blend of irony, and heartfelt kindredness. Proving the bond between pet and master is perhaps stronger than any political force, we may have on our hands one of the more important films in 2018, reminding us just the value of being human, for ourselves and for our pets. It may not have left the same filmic impact I experienced with Mr. Fox back in the day, and that’s okay. To still be thrown into such a quaint, mysterious, but also essential scenario, for a visit where every minute counts to the viewer, there’s still much to be said there; and you can thank Wes a million times over for being that kind of director. (A)
“Isle of Dogs” opens in Seattle this week, SIFF Cinema Uptown and AMC Pacific Place 11; wide expansion April 13; rated PG-13 for thematic elements and some violent images; 101 minutes.
