Isle of Dogs

Wes Anderson's Isle of Dogs is in the second tier of his work. The film represents Anderson at his best and worst, sometimes in the same scene. The animation and scenic design are crisp and eye-popping. Antique techniques such as the use of cotton balls to illustrate a dust-up are an entertaining contrast to the usual CGI overload. Anderson's mise-en scene is overly Apollonian, but this is appropriate for another bonbon like Fantastic Mr. Fox or Moonrise Kingdom. The charges of cultural appropriation levelled at this picture beggar belief for so flimsy a fable. Anderson no more wants to seriously address Japan than he did India in The Darjeeling Limited or Ruritania in The Grand Budapest Hotel. As it is, his Orientalism is as eye pleasing as Jean-Leon Gerome's. Music is also usually an asset in Anderson's work and Alexandre Desplat's score is a worthy one. However, the use of the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band's "I Won't Hurt You", twice for Christ's sake, is endemic of Anderson's biggest vice: his tweeness.

Isle of Dogs founders mostly because of its narrative, a pedantic allegory about exiles and outsiders. Despite the dire straits of the titular outlaws, there is little doubt of their deliverance and, thus, no dramatic tension. One character seems shoehorned into the film to provide the requisite sweet ache of pubescent love that is one of  Anderson's hallmark themes. The vocal talents are mostly effective with Bryan Cranston and Harvey Keitel delivering moving soliloquies. Isle of Dogs  is a mixed bag that provides enough eye candy, but not enough substance for the brain. (8/3/18)