In a Nutshell

Set in a Japanese near future-scape the considerable canine population ravaged by a dog flu virus has been banished to ‘Trash Island’, but young Atari Kobayshi travels to the island to search for his lost dog.

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A Recognizable Piece of Wes Anderson Mischief

Isle of Dogs is the ninth feature film from the distinct director’s chair of Wes Anderson, whose eccentric art-house auteurism has seen him garner acclaim and derision in seemingly equal measure. One thing’s for sure, this latest (his second stop-motion effort, following The Fantastic Mr Fox), is most definitely a recognizably Anderson piece of cinematic mischief.

As with his other recent ventures, The Grand Budapest Hotel, Moonrise Kingdom, and The Life Aquatic, Dogs is propelled forward by a strong sense of purpose. An assortment of oddballs that somehow complement one another band together on a quest of sorts. This format gives the film a real sense of pace and purpose and rarely does it slacken.

Indeed, the compact running time of the film ensures that there’s less flab than much of what you’ll endure in a mainstream picture. Instead, it zips along, relegating back-story to amusing asides, a stunning pre-credits sequence, and brilliantly integrated flashbacks. Appropriately enough, while some may find Anderson’s work lacking in substance, this one is all meat.

A Fantastic Pooch-Orientated Ensemble

Perhaps it’s an obvious human frailty too, but it’s tremendously hard to resist the pooch-orientated ensemble. Each is hugely likeable, with distinguishable traits. In typically Anderson style, it’s like he’s found a familiar object in his larder, then tipped it on its head to ensure something is a little off-kilter. It’s that finding the odd within normality that both reassures and generates comedy.

There’s also a tremendous knack for sight gags and strong visual humour in evidence throughout. The main dust-ups involving dogs are depicted literally, in the form of old-fashioned puffs of cloud, with limbs akimbo. When a character dies, a subtitle amusingly reads “sad funeral” in an unnecessary but hilarious verbal accompaniment to an image.

The conversation amongst the dogs often comes across like the dialogue a bunch of dried up office workers dissatisfied with their careers might utter in the confines of a bar after a torrid shift. Even the most fundamental of imagery succeeds, the expressions and reactions shared amongst the canine cast members.

It cannot be understated however, that Isle of Dogs benefits enormously from a terrific cast, all providing vocals that hang together superbly while retaining individual quirks. In the lead roles, Edward Norton and Bryan Cranston ooze a very particular dry wit, with the latter in particularly conveying a likeable cragginess.

His scenes with both Atari and love interest, Nutmeg, are bizarrely human. As bonkers as it sounds, by the time his scruffy, stray exterior begins to start cracking, he partakes in a genuinely touching piece of human interaction that certainly creeps up in an expected fashion.

Beautiful Ramshackle Visuals

It’s obvious that the entire cast is having great fun throughout, which is actually often held against Anderson’s work. Part of the argument with Anderson films from the opposition to his trimmings is that those said touches revel in their own intelligence, and distract from rather than inform the main plot. There’s no denying that an Anderson film is a film very much aware of itself and its own intelligence.

Additionally, his humour is very specific, and certainly, it’s his dialogue and linguistic quirks that are conveyed by the actors. But the players involved are uniformly in on the joke and up to speed with his humour. While they’re also clearly having a ball, they aren’t doing so at the expense of the audience.

Anderson’s films are often comprised of delicately composed shots exuding symmetry with a hand-made quality. They’re bursting with visual tricks that hark back to cinema created during a simpler time and concern themselves more with beautifully imperfect detail than with gloss or sheen. Basically while visually stunning, they often look like a little ramshackle, as if Anderson’s created them himself to sell on his Etsy page along with retro teapots and refurbished household items.

Addressing the ‘White Saviour’ Complex

There have been rumblings of discontent, and accusations of cultural appropriation directed towards Wes Anderson as a result of his handling of various facets of the film. The most obvious of these is in the usage of foreign exchange student Tracy (well played by Greta Gerwig), in a spot that has been labelled as an example of a “white saviour”.

It’s true that her character is one of the least effective within the film and she could have easily been a native to the country, but her sweet obsession with Atari Kobayashi and comedic straight-forward assertiveness is hard to fault. Anderson certainly doesn’t appear to display any indication of derogatory feeling or attitude towards Japanese culture, and indeed several Japanese speakers have indicated that they found the film to be respectful.

It’s similar to other Anderson works in that it playfully illustrates certain customs and draws attention to specific details, but it certainly feels much too good-natured and well-meaning to be bracketed as any sort of indignation. It’s Anderson’s own patchwork take on a hodgepodge of idiosyncrasies, fables and even clichés, combined with his own quirks and obsessions.

Verdict

An absolute delight, though perhaps more for adults than the kids. Those who dislike Wes Anderson’s work are as likely to be converted by this as anything he’s done before- but it’s difficult to imagine it not being enjoyed by those who have shared his indulged in his trademarks previously.