Year of the Dog

Anyone who has every forged an emotional connection with a pet will find it very difficult to dislike Year of the Dog. Few films have so subtly and accurately captured the relationship between human and animal, and the catastrophic feeling of loss that accompanies the death of a pet. Without sliding into any clichés or predictable character developments, screenwriter Mike White (in his first original screenplay) represents the sometimes hysterical, sometimes pathetic and sometimes sympathetic journey of the relatable receptionist Peggy (Molly Shannon), after she finds her beloved dog Pencil dead in her neighbour’s yard. Having previously relied upon Pencil as her sole companion, Peggy is suddenly thrust into the world of human interaction once again, with a mixed bag of results.

Thanks to both White’s writing and Shannon’s performance, the representation of Peggy as a character reaches an intriguing level of complexity. As she becomes increasingly obsessed with animal welfare campaigns, we are positioned to feel simultaneously angered, alarmed, alienated and approving. We are at once laughing with her and at her, and are thusly forced to reconsider our own personal positions on obsession and depression. It is undeniable, though, that White does get a little carried away at the end of the film, veering the narrative towards extremes that really only serve to confuse the audience. Indeed, it could be said that the film’s disappointing conclusion significantly reduces the rich complexity of the rest of the story. If it had ended just fifteen minutes earlier, before several unnecessarily dramatic developments, the film would have been remembered solely for its complex characters, quirky stylistic devices, and touching mix of pathos and humour. Instead, this is will be remembered as another film that began promisingly, but sadly (and messily) disintegrated. This is probably one to see on DVD, so that you can decide when to stop watching.

Rating: 7.2