Isle of Dogs
“I bite.”
I’m a huge fan of Wes Anderson. His unmistakable visual style, deadpan dialogue, and themes of familial and relational disillusionment have always appealed to me. So I’ve been eagerly waiting for this. I’m also a huge fan of dogs, so putting these two loves together should make for a perfect marriage of whimsy and dog-focused sentiment, right?
Right.
Isle of Dogs is everything I hoped for, and then some. It’s beautiful, silly, thoughtful, and as much fun as I’ve had at a movie theater in a long time. All of Wes Anderson’s trademarks are here, from the impeccable production design and framing to the stilted emotions and pointed dialogue. With its obvious influence from filmmakers like Akira Kurosawa (particularly Seven Samurai, in both visual and musical homages) and Yasujirō Ozu, Isle of Dogs is also one of Anderson’s most visually stunning films, and considering his catalog, that’s saying something.
The fact that the majority of the film is actually in Japanese might be offputting to some, but the language barrier is an important part of the story, and is utilized well. While the themes and visual style draw heavily from Japanese filmmakers, there’s also a recurring visual motif found in propaganda that reminded me of Orson Welles’ work in Citizen Kane, with large, imposing faces scowling down on scores of citizens. What I’m saying is this: Wes Anderson loves movies, and his passion is evident in every frame.
Wes Anderson also loves dogs (the name of the film can’t be said without also saying “I love dogs”) and the special bond they share with their owners. Whether or not the viewer grew up with man’s best friend, the reverence for dogs here is palpable and contagious. Everything we expect from dogs, the gleeful adoration, careful obedience, and reckless joy can be found on Trash Island. A broad range of dog breeds can be seen as well, from pugs to mutts and everything in between.
Anderson’s second animated feature is beautiful in its compositions, but the painstaking attention to detail in the animation is equally breathtaking. The way each dog moves and fills the frame is distinct and different, expressing intent and motivation through even the simplest twitches and sneezes. The animation for the human characters is also fantastic, with many moments featuring subtle comedy and/or exposition.
There’s a sense of earnestness here, an energy and creativity that reminds me of some of Anderson’s earlier films, like Rushmore and The Life Aquatic. Not to say that any of his other films are less enjoyable or less special, but Isle of Dogs has a unique atmosphere of creative ambition and sincerity. Maybe the central focus on the love between a boy and his dog is what lends the film this feeling, or maybe it’s the sense of wild adventure, the reckless pursuit of a loved one that approaches Miyazaki-level. Whatever it is, I find myself inspired and delighted, and I can’t wait to watch the film again.
I’m saying these things to convey the mix of emotions and ideas I have after seeing the film, but what you should know is that Isle of Dogs is good. It’s everything you’d expect from Wes Anderson, and it’s a ton of fun. It’s everything I hoped for, and I can’t wait to see it again.
