Isle of Dogs

Though Isle of Dogs does not excel in terms of narrative ingenuity like The Grand Hotel Budapest or of playfulness as in Fantastic Mr. Fox, it is still such an incredibly clever film that you want to bark with joy. ___ Anderson continues to refine his style, which he barely contaminates with special techniques that are atypical of him, such as the use of a handheld camera, zoom and some asymmetrical composition here and there. The enlivening segments are most frequently in the form of a change in the style of animation (for example, the security-camera footage is hand-drawn instead of stop-motion), which relates to the motif of translating meanings between various languages and cultures (for example, some utterances in Japanese are interpreted, while the interpreter’s reactions to what she hears have an alienating effect). ___ In comparison with Anderson’s other films, this one is unexpectedly and fully intentionally ugly (or perhaps better said, “not cute”) – dogs live in a huge dump among rats, are infected with weird diseases and feed on rotting garbage. Sometimes we see close-ups of a chewed-up ear or a bit of mangy fur (and a kidney transplant), but the gloomy greyness very well suits this film that thematicises (more openly than Grand Hotel) the rise of authoritarianism, the inhumanity of humans and impending genocide (or rather its canine equivalent). It is not a film for children, who might be bothered by the slower pace and the minimum of “obvious” gags (the humour is based primarily on the ironic juxtaposition of situations/objects, both infantile and adult). ___ Anderson again presents an isolated world with specific rules, from which the protagonists try to escape using a well-thought-out plan (instead of repeatedly resorting to improvisation). For western viewers, such a peculiar world to which one can flee from the ordinariness of everyday life is not just the island where most of the story takes place, but the whole of Japan, whose iconography, history and gastronomy are tremendously beneficial to Anderson (sumo wrestlers, cherry blossoms, Kabuki theatre, the preparation of sushi, Japanese woodcuts, chanbara movies, taiko drums as the foundation of the soundtrack…). His approach to Japanese culture is not always so sensitive – the resistance against treacherous cat lovers, for example, is led by an American exchange student, who shows more courage and awareness than her Japanese schoolmates – but, at the same time, he does not turn the Land of the Rising Sun into a museum of curiosities for Japanophile fetishists. ___ Like Anderson’s other films, Isle of Dogs has a block structure with a prologue, an introduction and four chapters, each of which has a different objective and all of which are interconnected by the development of relationships between the characters. Compared to the nesting-doll nature of The Grand Budapest Hotel, the narrative is linear with the exception of a few flashbacks, which, together with an excess of explanatory monologues, disrupt the smooth flow of the narrative. Though the film does not unfold as quickly as Anderson’s previous films and can be a bit more challenging for viewers who go to the cinema to have a good time, it is still broadly accessible and easily comprehensible, and actually, yet somewhat paradoxically (with respect to theme and environment), one of Anderson’s more cautious films. 80% (30.04.2018) (vähemmän) (lisää)