Dogs at the movies

Our unscientific guide to pooches on film

If you ask our moms, they’ll point to Lassie and Old Yeller. Another generation grew up with Homeward Bound, Lady and the Tramp and 101 Dalmations. Recent additions to the canon are A Dog’s Purpose and this year’s Pick of the Litter. But the point is, we love watching dogs on screen. Here is a list of some of our favorites — mostly movies, and one fantastic TV episode. Make some popcorn and let your pup on the furniture for “dogs at the movies night.”

Air Bud

Back in the early days of writing for Isthmus, I had the privilege of backing up award-winning film critic Kent Williams, a gig that largely involved writing short reviews of the less-than-stellar flicks that didn’t catch his interest. That’s how I caught the initial 1997 run of Air Bud, the House of Mouse’s big-screen after-school special about a lonely kid whose life and middle school basketball fortunes are lifted by a stray golden retriever who can sink mid-range jumpers with a bump of his snout. While the film involves just about every cliched trope imaginable — and a truly ham-tastic performance by Michael Jeter as a villainous clown (yes, villainous clown) — there’s nothing like the magical bond in the moment when the kid realizes what his new furry pal can do. If you’ve ever seen the you-and-me-baby look in your dog’s eye while playing catch or fetch, you’ve experienced it. The series would stretch to four (!) mostly direct-to-video sequels with different dogs rocking everything from football to volleyball, but none of them were as affecting as the original.  — Aaron R. Conklin

Best in Show

The plot revolves around a fictitious dog show, but the international competition is almost inconsequential to Best in Show, the 2000 mockumentary co-written by Christopher Guest and Eugene Levy. The real charm of the movie is its witty, though loving, portrayal of dog fanatics who seem completely unaware of how self-absorbed and insular they are.

Apparently the script was thin, leaving improv stars like Levy, Guest, Catherine O’Hara and Fred Willard to flesh things out. It’s hard to believe some of the scenes were unscripted, because so many of them are so memorable: Levi’s Gerry (the dentist with the two left feet) and O’Hara’s Cookie serenading their Norwich terrier with “Everyone Loves a Terrier,” and the quintessential yuppies Meg and Hamilton Swan (Parker Posey and Michael Hitchcock) going ballistic when they realize they don’t have their Weimaraner Beatrice’s favorite toy: “God, Hamilton, if she doesn’t get her Busy Bee she’s going to flip out!” Meg screams at the top of her lungs while Beatrice, needless to say, appears unfazed.

And then there’s Jennifer Coolidge as Sherri Ann, who explains what she and her elderly, rich, nearly catatonic husband have in common: “We could not talk, or talk, forever.”  — Judith Davidoff

High Maintenance — “Grandpa” episode

High Maintenance is a remarkable TV series starring Ben Sinclair as “The Guy,” a bike-riding weed delivery guy. That’s all you need to know to understand the show. It’s non-linear, giving intimate, poignant and delightful glimpses into the diverse people of New York City. “Grandpa” (Season 1, episode 3) centers around Gatsby, a canine resident of New York. We immediately get that there’s strife in Gatsby’s family life, and a lot of loneliness — for him and his companion. Because it’s filmed from the dog’s perspective, you don’t always see people’s faces; it’s a lot of stomachs and legs and gates and trees. It’s also a tragic love story between Gatsby and Beth, an adorable and dreamy dog walker. “One thing you need to know about me is I have the best motherfucking treats,” she tells him before offering the dog a treat from her fanny pack before their first outing. The beautiful camerawork, the sunny montage of playing in the park, and the heartbreaking scene of Gatsby staring out the window looking for Beth will take your breath away. The dog is an unbelievably loveable character. All of High Maintenance is excellent, but this episode is a masterwork.  — Catherine Capellaro

Isle of Dogs

It’s approximately 20 years in the future when the action really starts rolling in Wes Anderson’s delightful stop-motion animation Isle of Dogs (2018). The Japanese mainland has reached “canine saturation,” according to the anti-dog rulers. And twin epidemics of Snout Fever and Dog Flu (with suspicious origins) are ravaging the population. Kenji Kobayashi, the mayor of Megasaki, banishes all the “bad dogs” to Trash Island. Back on the mainland, the Science Party and scientists are seeking cures while the population is whipped up into an anti-dog furor.

We pick up with the compelling canine characters on the post-apocalyptic trash heap six months after banishment. They are sickly, filthy and struggling, fighting for maggot-infested scraps. Their unofficial leader is Chief (voiced by Bryan Cranston). He’s got a back story. He is a stray but he once had a home. He bit a kid, but to this day, he doesn’t know why. “I guess I was afraid.” The dogs’ lives are changed when the mayor’s nephew, who the dogs call “The Little Pilot,” crash lands on the island, searching for his bodyguard, Spots. It’s quintessential Anderson, with evocative music, some from Akira Kurosawa films and the majority original songs by Alexandre Desplat.

I’ve enjoyed other Wes Anderson films, but Isle of Dogs perfectly harnesses his strengths. The voice talent is ridiculous: Edward Norton, Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum, Greta Gerwig, Frances McDormand, Scarlett Johansson, Tilda Swinton, Yoko Ono! And throughout the film, the animation is jaw-droppingly beautiful, from the dogs’ expressions (those eyes!), to the shifting colors and light and layered trash landscapes. The film manages to stay engaging, funny and entertaining while still wrestling with themes of democracy, fascism, language, belonging and acceptance. “Whatever happened to man’s best friend?” becomes a refrain, and each time we hear it, it becomes more meaningful.  — Catherine Capellaro

Marley & Me

About an hour into Marley & Me (2008)you might find a frog in your throat. You can keep swallowing to try to make it go away, but it doesn’t. The film reminds us that life is fleeting, and dog years are even more so.

Based on John Grogan’s book, Marley & Me follows the journey of young newlyweds (Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson). Instead of diving into parenthood too quickly, they decide to adopt a yellow Labrador retriever. The movie captures the happy, sad, hard, loving and frustrating moments of having a dog as a best friend.

Two things happened when I brought this movie up to people: They either said they won’t watch it, or they watched it and (pardon my French) they lost their shit. So why is this movie so hard to get through? Because so many of us have experienced the love and loss of a pet — or will eventually go through it. We go through life with plans to become who we want to be. We have to pause and enjoy who we are and the ones by our side (furry or human).

I wrote most of this while tears streamed down my cheeks. Looking at it with fresh, dry eyes I laughed when I read this note from my ugly-crying moment: This movie is stupid. The beautifully stupid part (spoiler alert) is that my dog was also buried in a spot where he loved to lie — under an oak tree. But the memories with him will always be buried in my heart.

As the young daughter, Colleen, says in the film, I say to my dog, Oscar: I will never forget you forever.  — Chelsey Dequaine

Wendy and Lucy

Kelly Reichardt’s Wendy and Lucy from 2008 looks at the unspoken contract we make with our pets.

Wendy (Michelle Williams) is traveling with her dog Lucy from Indiana to Alaska, where she hopes to work in the fisheries for a summer to save money. But her car breaks down in Oregon. Short on cash, she gets arrested shoplifting cans of dog food while Lucy is tied up outside. After spending the day in jail, Lucy has vanished. Wendy spends the rest of the movie trying to find and save Lucy.

The dog means more to her than anything, but Wendy can barely take care of herself. Despite Wendy’s agony, it becomes clear that she is getting more out of this relationship than Lucy.

The film was highly praised for its arty neo-realism, but the truth is it’s a painful movie to watch and doesn’t cover any new ground. But it does show the limits of love for a pet.— Joe Tarr

White God

In Kornél Mundruczó’s White God (2014), a teenage girl named Lili is forced to live with her estranged father for a few months in Budapest. She brings along her beloved dog, Hagen, which adds to the tension with her dad. The father hates the intrusion and the dog, and one day, dumps Hagen on the side of a highway.

As he drives away, Hagen stares in bewilderment at a sobbing Lili. “Why are you leaving me?” his eyes plead. A social contract has been broken, a dog abandoned by its owner.

Hagen (played by two sibling pups) spends the rest of the movie navigating the world of humans, who abuse and betray him at every turn. Finally, he rallies the hordes of Budapest’s street dogs to revolt against their human overlords. Their wrath is bloody and unforgiving, plunging the city into mayhem.

The movie asks what is it that we owe other species, not just our pets, but the cattle we see being slaughtered in an open shot. A cynic would say this is a sentimental question, imbuing animals with empathy, intelligence, resentment, love.

But the rebuttal to that is found right in the stunning performances of more than 200 dogs, most of them strays. In amazingly choreographed scenes, the dogs march through the streets of Budapest in step like an army. They convey a range of emotions, including fear, compassion and anger. And like all great artists, they force viewers to ponder what it means to be alive.   — Joe Tarr