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"I would like to live in a Wes Anderson film, see you in slow motion when you get off the train. With the characters from Wes Anderson's movies: idiosyncratic, more likeable than me.
And the bad guys aren't really bad. And the enemies aren't really enemies. But even the good guys aren't really good, just like me and you.
I would like to live in a Wes Anderson film: symmetrical shots and then the Kinks start. I would like the love from Wes Anderson's films, all tenderness and bittersweet endings.
And the bad guys aren't really bad. And the brothers aren't really enemies. But even the good guys aren't really good, just like me and you."
I wonder what I Cani must have thought when they found out that the latest film by the Texan genius would be called Isle of Dogs. A splendid twist of fate that wouldn't have looked out of place in a film by our beloved (or at least my beloved) hero of filmic geometries.
Live adventures, don't stay stuck in one place.
Over two years of waiting since the project began in Anderson’s mind. I, being a huge lover of Andersonian cinema and the noble art of stop motion animation (from Burton and Selick, to Skankmajer and the Quay brothers, from Mary and Max to Anomalisa, just to name a few examples), found it even harder to wait. Moreover, the film, right from the start, was announced with a Japanese setting and model references, to pay homage to, like Kurosawa, no less. So much anticipation, immense excitement once finally in the theater, enormous satisfaction once out.
Sure, as a lover of felines more than flea-ridden canines, if it were even called Isle of Cats, the enthusiasm would have been even more uncontrollable, but you can't have everything. And then I wouldn’t have had a cue for the introduction...
Now, although a collective work, clearly, Andersonian style, among the most characteristic and recognizable of all contemporary cinema (and unlike any other in the pop realm), fills every frame, every close-up, every moment. And those who do not love it will struggle even in this case, but I find it impossible to conceive anything other than affection for these small canine outcasts abandoned on an island of garbage, even if I can't even feel complete antipathy towards Mayor Kobayashi (impossible already to feel antipathy for someone named Kobayashi...), and for his clique, always with indifferent and snobby big cats at their side. The bad guys are never really bad, as was said, after all.
Many tributes to Japanese culture, theatrical and cinematic, but everything works wonderfully, although, perhaps, the film could have been shortened by about ten minutes, but it’s just a debatable detail.
While expectations were very high, even greater, perhaps, was the result in my eyes: Isle of Dogs is a work of art so full of love for cinema that it moves and prompts open applause, so rich with inventions, visual beauty, tenderness, sweetness, sharp jokes (the Chief of Bryan Cranston is already a cult), and immediately memorable characters, deserving of admiration and amazement. Also considering the extraordinary work behind such a production.
The dedication and passion required in pursuing the creation of a frame-by-frame feature film, second in Anderson's filmography after the other gem Fantastic Mr. Fox.
"It’s something unconscious, an inexplicable emotion, something you can’t put into words. There’s a magical and mysterious tactile effect. I know that with a computer you can achieve the same things, or even more, but this craft aspect, this idea that everything is handmade, produces an emotional echo in me. I will be nostalgic, but stop motion animation represents this for me." Tim Burton.
And here lies perhaps all the meaning of what Isle of Dogs has been for me - and still is. A film, beyond all this, visionary, dystopian, irreverent, and political, the most political Anderson has made so far (although, with a keen eye, already Grand Budapest Hotel presented much more political elements than usual - "You filthy, goddamn, pock-marked, fascist assholes! Take your hands off my lobby boy!" as the unforgettable M Gustave said) where the fist-raised pro-dog activists, led by the blond, curly, and freckled Tracy Parker/Greta Gerwig, are evidently inspired by reality.
A richly packed cast of excellent voice actors, among whom the aforementioned protagonist Bryan Cranston stands out, along with Wes' more classic loyalists, from Bill Murray onward (for the first time, though, no Wilson appears). And Anderson is good at subtly renewing himself over the years. Maintaining his style, yes, but not limiting himself, for example, to pursuing portraits of dysfunctional families, or not only using old vintage pop songs in the soundtracks. Instead, expanding his family. This work enriches and expands the universe of the director of Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums once again, with marginalized protagonists, at risk of extinction, melancholic, bittersweet, naively romantic, quirky, spoiled, rebellious, and longing for love. Just like you and me. In this sense, these dogs are the perfect metaphor for all Andersonian heroes, projected into a near future.
Watch it, love it.
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