Matteo Garrone
Dogman

Matteo Garrone is one of those names who, currently representing true Italian Cinema, has shown he knows what he's doing. His Cinema draws inspiration from the great masters of the past, especially Neorealism, to make them his own in certain aspects: stories where the protagonists' discomfort is at the center, settings in timeless small towns and the deepest Suburbia, to the use of actors who are not necessarily Hollywood stars, unlike Paolo Sorrentino in the post-"The Consequences of Love" phase. Garrone knows how to choose faces, most of the time they are actors or taken from the street, or who simply manage to impersonate their characters so genuinely...to the point of becoming characters themselves. For example, the two boys in "Gomorra" are not professional actors (although "Pisellino" will become a favorite actor for Garrone), yet they are perfect in their performances, where their spontaneity and authenticity become their greatest strength. I warn that this review will contain spoilers, so for those who have not yet had the chance to see this film, you assume responsibility for your choice.

In this "Dogman" the protagonist is Marcello, and it's curious the idea of naming him like the actor himself, Marcello Fonte, and how he is constructed in his apparent naivety. Marcello is a veterinarian, living in this suburb of Rome a few minutes from the sea. He's divorced, has a daughter who is the most precious thing to him besides the dogs he manages. Marcello is tormented by Simoncino, a local boxer and thug who involves him in his crimes, but when he decides to rob the shop next to his, it is Marcello who ends up paying, choosing to serve the sentence out of fear (or friendship) towards Simoncino. Returning a year later from prison, with the disappointment of his old friends and residents who would like to exile him from their town, he decides to take revenge on Simoncino.

The film is a powerful framework that shows a grim glimpse of life that is sadly current, where Garrone's direction manifests in all its splendor: extremely wide shots worthy of Sergio Leone, which give the film an almost Western atmosphere in starting as a neorealist drama, followed by long takes (the prison scene), underwater shots, handheld camera in the violence sequences, and long still frames on the characters. All supported by a splendid cold photography, dominated by blue and gray. There is not a single shot wasted or lacking in decorous power. Garrone is a monster, in this film he feels free, and when direction breathes freely, it is palpable. Putting aside the astonishing technical aspect, we move on to the characters of the film, and consequently to the respective actors: Marcello Fonte in his role is perfect, both in making Marcello's small character somewhat childish and lovable, and in sequences where he returns from prison with more determination and bitterness at the same time. I personally loved the sequence of returning from prison to his old shop: a wordless scene, only the wind blowing within this dark room, and Marcello's gaze lost in desolation, as in the splendid final shot. Towards the dogs, Marcello sees figures that are for some aspects better than human beings themselves. This affection is reciprocated by the dogs themselves, who see in him someone who not only loves them but understands them. A suffering performance in every sense, since Marcello Fonte had to risk his own body, as in the sequence where he carries Simoncino's body to their friends to get accepted back by them, driven by this desire to show himself victorious even though he was not yet aware he had committed murder. The sequence assumes an almost biblical metaphor, of Jesus dragging the cross on Calvary.

And here we move to the non-protagonist: Simoncino, interpreted by an impressive Edoardo Pesce in his transformation: a ruthless machine of violence, despicable, remorseless, a character that in that Roman town dimension appears powerful and indestructible like a kind of Boogeyman of local stories. The relationship between Simoncino and Marcello is the real pivot of the film: two distant worlds, but in their disconnected being, when they relate, they find an equilibrium much more constructive than that of the other citizens (the table scene in which they discuss how to cold-bloodedly kill Simoncino is an example). In his dangerous and unmanageable being, Simoncino sees in Marcello a figure who doesn't judge him for his actions and in the end loves him, although he doesn't even make an effort to respect the private life of his tiny friend (as in the opening sequence where he snorts coke in Marcello's house with his daughter present). The sequence where Marcello is mocked locked in a dog cage is emblematic, where Garrone stages a strong critique of how humans are beasts in their ruthlessness, an observation that Inarritu himself tackled in his splendid "Amores Perros".

"Dogman" is this. An emotional, cruel, raw, and straightforward punch in the stomach, inspired by a real crime story of the Canaro though freely reinterpreted. For those looking for a more faithful version of the facts, I recommend the film "Rabbia furiosa: Er Canaro," in a much more gore and violent key, directed not least by Sergio Stivaletti, a special effects artist and makeup artist who worked with directors of the caliber of Dario Argento, Lamberto Bava, and Michele Soavi.

"Dogman" once again reaffirms the name of Matteo Garrone for Italian Cinema, like a drop of rain in a desert where it never rains.