The opening scene in Wes Anderson's Isle of Dogs (which explains a long history of war between felines and canines) sets the stage for some truly original, rare, and daring filmmaking. This stop-motion animated feature (Anderson's second, after 2009's terrific Fantastic Mr. Fox) is set in a future Japan, where an outbreak of snout fever (er, dog flu) enables government officials to quarantine all canines to a remote trash island. "Whatever happened to man's best friend?" some wonder.
The film's apparent four-part narrative centers on a pack of five alpha dogs, including a stray named Chief, as well as a boy pilot named Atari (nephew to the unsympathetic mayor, who first issued the quarantine) out to find his own dog, named Spots, who was banished on the same island.
The film's marvelous animation and impeccable all-star voice cast (especially the dog leads) are the easiest things to be struck by here. Koyu Rankin (as Atari), Bryan Cranston (Chief), Edward Norton (Rex), Jeff Goldblum (Duke), Bill Murray (Boss), Bob Balaban (King), and other supporting players Scarlet Johannson (Nutmeg), F. Murray Abraham (Jupiter), Frances McDormand (Interpreter Nelson), Greta Gerwig (exchange student Tracy Walker), Tilda Swinton (Oracle), Harvey Keitel (Gondo), and Liev Schreiber (Spots) play this world like they mean it, despite its absurd, highly-quirky and intellectual disposition. The glass bottle fort scene, for one, recalls the underground mineral deposit from Fantastic Mr. Fox. Cranston's Chief proves the most layered character, developing as one who never really had a master to somebody with emotional tendencies (his main character trait: "I bite") to somebody who does have a soft spot. And Alexandre Desplat's score strikes the right balance of Japanese influences and quirky and emotional humor, with percussion adding specific intensity. (Pay attention to the opening credits, for starters.)
Perhaps the biggest themes in this film are those of choice and identity. Besides the arc of the dogs themselves ("There's no future on trash island," argues Rex, "I want my master"), the "why" for Atari is in how dogs represent true "best friends" in a harsh world. (The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band track, "I Won't Hurt You," adds to and sums up the films emotional arc, specifically this relationship between dogs and people who love them.) There are some characters who state their fear of bringing children (er, puppies) into the world. On the other hand, there are those who believe in a need for improved life, culture, and livelihood.
The film has been accused of cultural appropriation, as well as a stereotypical "white savior" element in the character of white female exchange student, Tracy Walker. Minor subplots involving dog flu and research (treatable or not) and robotic canines may pale in comparison to the more political subplot involving student animal rights groups shouting propaganda against pet-haters, including the fact that Japanese citizens have been brainwashed/misguided into hating their pets. --Is it possible that the film is also discreetly prejudice against cats? I don't know.
As for cultural appropriation? Maybe, maybe not. To be fair, the human characters do speak in their native tongue--mostly without subtitles, sometimes with an English translator--while all the canines speak English. (The disclaimer in the opening sequence is a humorous Anderson touch.) The ear pieces worn between certain humans and dogs (e.g., Atari and Spots) bridge the language barrier, and even result in teary eyes effects for the animators. In that regard, the film is, perhaps, reverent to Japanese culture, which also gives it an authenticity and charm rarely seen in cinema. (For the record, Anderson was inspired by the films of Akira Kirosawa and the classic Sixties and Seventies stop-motion Christmas specials from Rankin-Bass animation.)
It should be noted that, like Fox before it and despite the aforementioned marvelous animation and storytelling, Isle of Dogs is not really a film for young children. It's mildly disturbing and even violent at times (hence, why the MPAA gave it a PG-13 rating, "for thematic elements and some violent images"). One scene, for instance, glimpses a dog chewing another dog's ear off, while another scene shows a kidney transplant, open chests and all. There are also a couple of references to suicide and implied cannibal dogs, as well as an incinerator. At least, for what it's worth, the material doesn't cross into territory that Anderson's other inventive-but-R-rated films (and even his PG-13-rated Moonrise Kingdom) went into. And it gives more mature viewers the option of seeing what the animation medium is still capable of, as well as what original and daring filmmaking and storytelling is.
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