The planet is under threat from dog flu and snout fever, both timely reminders of the recent swine flu 'epidemic' and the dangers of fake news. The mayor of Megasaki City (voiced by co-writer Kunichi Nomura), who is part of a dynasty of long-time cat lovers, puts forward a decree to banish all dogs from the mainland and transport them to Trash Island, despite claims of a breakthrough to cure the animals' illness. His ward, a young boy named Atari (Koyu Rankin), is having none of his caregiver's authoritarian attitudes, and travels to the human-less island in order to find his beloved dog Spots (Liev Schreiber), the very first mutt to be dismissed. Atari steals a plane and crashes it into the wasteland, and comes across a pack of mostly former domesticated canines led by the incredibly democratic Rex (Edward Norton). The rest of the gang consists of Boss (Bill Murray), King (Bob Balaban), Duke (Jeff Goldblum), and the only stray in the group, Chief (Bryan Cranston).Chief is the beating heart of the film, and the character through which Anderson explores most of the film's themes. The black, scruffy dog is proud to be from the streets, and is quick to admit that he's a biter. He's the only one to refuse to sit for Atari, but nevertheless agrees to go with the majority vote and assist Atari in helping his track down his lost friend. From here on in, it's very much an A-to-B adventure, but Anderson and his co-writers (Nomura, Roman Coppola and Jason Schwartzman) ensure that the journey is anything but formulaic. Along the way, we meet the likes of Oracle (Tilda Swinton), Nutmeg (Scarlett Johnansson), Jupiter (F. Murray Abraham) and Gondo (Harvey Keitel), with even Yoko Ono thrown into the mix. Things aren't made easy by the fact that the Japanese actors speak in their native tongue without the assistance of subtitles (although Frances McDormand occasionally pops up as an enthusiastic translator), but this highlights the communication barrier between owner and pet, as well as falling in line with the film's themes of migration and social integration.
Anderson packs in more shots than is usually expected from animation, particularly in the painfully slow process of stop-motion. Rather than accepting this as a limitation, he uses animation as a tool to bring his vision vividly to life with more freedom allowed by live action. The visuals are even more luscious that in Grand Budapest, with the animation retaining a rustic, old-fashioned quality that makes it feel as if you could reach out and actually touch the dog's hairs as they ripple in the wind. As soon as the Taiko drums start to thud on the film's glorious soundtrack, Anderson's love of Japanese cinema can be sensed immediately. The influence of Akira Kurosawa can be felt throughout (a status of Toshiro Mifune appears at one point), but the precision of the framing is pure Ozu, and Tristan Oliver's cinematography relishes exploring what was perhaps Japan's greatest period for cinema. The mediocrity of 2004's The Life Aquatic must have been a wake-up for the filmmaker, urging him away from his comfort zone and towards more unexplored territory. Anderson continues to amaze, amuse and baffle, and has emerged as one of the most important, original voices in American cinema. I fail to see how anyone could not be utterly enchanted by Isle of Dogs.
Directed by: Wes Anderson
Voices: Bryan Cranston, Koyu Rankin, Edward Norton, Bob Balaban, Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum, Kunichi Nomura, Frances McDormand, Scarlett Johansson
Country: Germany/USA
Rating: *****
Tom Gillespie
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