The most jarring moments of Wes Anderson's latest stop-motion showpiece aren't necessarily found in its fragmentary use of language or geographical re-appropriation — but in its odd predilection towards Japanese culture as ornamental and decorative in nature — omitting key subtitles from nearly all of its human protagonists almost as swiftly as it robs agency from its lead, Atari, who we glean is merely thrown into the mix to satisfy the director's boxed-in quotas. The real spotlight evidently, shines brightly on the furry backs of five American-sounding pups (voiced by Edward Norton, Jeff Goldblum, Bill Murray and Bob Balaban, with Bryan Cranston as a notable newcomer), howling at the moon with discontent and rage, colored by some clever back-and-forth witticisms and on-the-snout banter, which only an artist like Anderson could possibly whip up. These canines operate and blather like first-world pets thrust into a third-world nightmare, but if they were in fact from the fictional city of Megasaki, why on earth would they bear the names Rex, Duke, King, Chief, Boss, Nutmeg and Spots? Wouldn't their names (and speaking style) mirror that of their masters back home? Something never quite adds up...
Then there's the clunky parable for our own sad state of affairs, paralleled by ICE raids and deportations, encapsulated by Mayor Kobayashi's ardent nationalism and fear-mongering (though he's more Xi Jinping here than Donald Trump), but a tyrant nonetheless. There are also references to Green Peace, and the so-called "Science Party," though it all wears quite thin as the film devolves into another white savior complex fantasy, by way of American exchange student Tracy Walker, voiced here by Greta Gerwig who somehow inexplicably develops a crush on young Atari, even though he is clearly several years her junior. I was also struck by Anderson's decision to make Tracy caucasian, when she could've just as easily been from Japan. Perhaps Anderson couldn't secure a large enough check for his animatic opus had it not been for the size and scope of his all-star roster — nevertheless, this tradition of exteriorizing and objectifying Eastern culture (as was done in "The Darjeeling Limited") from a uniquely Western perspective has caused his work to fall behind the times, even though his latest technical achievement is allegedly set 20 years in the future.
This cultural and cinematic pilfering could all boil down to Americans' refusal to read subtitles — we are SO used to being the chief exporters of film that anything deviating from the norm is considered "art house" or avant-garde. Take Pixar's 2007 film "Ratatouille" for instance, which featured a trio of streetwise Brooklyn rats cooking five star meals in the heart of Paris. The fact that they all spoke English, a distinctly American dialect at that, is never acknowledged or ever alluded to. Sure, Remy's hero Gusteau conveyed a passable enough French accent, but the chef's heir, Linguini, also sounded like a man from Queens, NY, rendering the entire affair, no matter how amiable and pleasant, utterly head-scratching. Eleven years later, it's quite a letdown to see the incomparable Anderson, of all auteur filmmakers, catering to this laziness, even if "Isle of Dogs," in its best moments, feels akin to "Inglourious Basterds" (which conjointly poked fun at its own trilingual see-sawing). I'm curious to see how the film is ultimately received in Japan, and if the dialogue spoken by its native populace actually corresponds to some legitimate verbal cues. Had the work been set in Finland instead of Japan, I'm sure the visuals would've been just as spellbinding, though it's also feasible critics would be griping over Anderson's exclusion of a more diverse cast and setting, the irony of course is that here he managed to do both, and somehow, still fell short.
"ISLE OF DOGS" a.k.a. “Lost Boys In Translation” Rated PG-13. Running time: 1 hour 41 minutes.
