Remi (Keaton Nigel Cooke) is a cancer survivor with a close connection to his dachshund.
When Wiener-Dog shows its teeth, director Todd Solondz taps into the humor of emotional abuse and dysfunctional relationships with a sustained growl.
The film is made up of four episodes — linked across the country by a dachshund. Unfortunately, two of the episodes have more bark than bite.
Wiener-Dog shares the bill on Aug. 27 at the UW Cinematheque with the unrelated documentary Weiner (about that sly dog, former Rep. Anthony Weiner).
Dina (Julie Delpy) can’t communicate with her young cancer survivor son (Keaton Nigel Cooke) without causing collateral damage, and she’s as mesmerizing as a traffic accident. “Death is a good thing?” he asks, moments after she describes his dog being put to sleep. “It feels good, like forgetting everything,” she explains with a smile, ignoring the fact that the boy has fought off death — and can’t forget his dead dog.
The boy’s dog is not dead, however. She’s saved by vet assistant Dawn Wiener (Greta Gerwig), who takes her on a road trip with former classmate and crush Brandon (Kieran Culkin). Young Dawn (nicknamed Wiener-Dog) was the central character in Solondz’s Welcome to the Dollhouse (1995). Fans should not expect many rewarding connections, nor expect much from the segment, which is long on setup and short on payoff.
The remaining two segments feature reserved but memorable performances from Danny DeVito and Ellen Burstyn. DeVito impresses as screenwriting professor Dave Schmerz, but the segment revisits worn tropes about academia and moviemaking. Burstyn dominates her scenes as Nana, despite barely moving and wearing large sunglasses, as she receives a long-overdue visit from her granddaughter. These last scenes match Dina’s in their dramatic range and impact, but they are far more concise.
Solondz often seems tone deaf in terms of identity politics (itself a target of satire in one scene). Dawn meets a mariachi band straight out of a Speedy Gonzales cartoon. Jewish names become a running gag in the nexus of academia and entertainment surrounding Schmerz. Some moments satirize those who see the world through stereotypes. Some don’t.
Despite some uninspired staging, Ed Lachman’s cinematography gives Solondz’s dark vision a crisp, vibrant energy with stylized green hues and magical slow motion.
And I have to give Solondz credit for one shot as audacious as anything in his cult classics, Happiness and Storytelling. It is worth sharing with a crowd.
