I got an email from ODDCRITIC that read:

“Hey, short notice. Muscle Distribution is looking for coverage on their festival films, and I—”

Dog Movie! I’ll do Dog Movie!

Now this may have been a rash snap call, based entirely on my love for the poetic title, Dog Movie. A title that becomes only more salient upon a giggle-laden viewing of this extraordinary, low-budget (comma, notice the comma), relatable, queer comedy, powered by an improv engine, and held together with glue.

I only describe my title-driven decision as rash because this film exists as a product of the queer underground. I myself am not queer (although I have owned milk crate bookshelves); thus, I hesitate to review a film that exists in such a meaningful counterculture that I myself do not belong to. The hesitation dissipated when I remembered the dog turd, and then remembered one of my favourite directors, John Waters.

This movie reads like it was made in an alternate universe where Waters grew up to be a polite and moustache-less individual, yet maintained his knack for turning simple conflicts into esoteric wonder. Here is the Venn diagram overlap for Dog Movie and Pink Flamingos: animal titles, butt-crack budgets, making movies with your friends, aforementioned and essential dog log, conclusions that acknowledge the camera person, gay, unexpected amount of aprons, one really nude forward character, cigarettes out in the yard, everyone on-screen has awesome hair, and both incite the viewer to make something of their own (I guess inspirational is another word?) I hope the director, Henry Hanson, is a fan of John Waters—otherwise that was just a bunch of goop.

By the way, I’m not very good at reviewing things; I kind of just get eager and compare things to other things. A Summary? I don’t have a format for this. The only other movie I’ve reviewed is Pavements, and I sort of just entered an ire-based fugue state—plus there was nothing to summarize; it was all a bunch of junk. 

The plot of Dog Movie is simple, yet perfectly relatable: a conflict-avoidant queer couple, Haven (Jessi Gatson) and Arrow (Marten Katze), struggle to solve the turbulent puzzle of booting their aloof friend, Bloo (Milo Talwani), off their living room couch. Bloo, who is a sort of red-eyed diogenesian manic-pixie-couch-cadet, is pushed to their limits at the adoption of a foggy-eyed senior pup who shares their name (but different spelling doh). 

Dogs don’t spell.

Right, his name tag is spelled differently than how you spell your name.

That’s cool… I should get a name tag.

Conversational improv is this film’s blood. I offer nothing but massive props to Gatson, Katze, and Talwani. All three actors find their moments for love, humility, and exasperation. Equally so, all three characters tiptoe through a minefield of archetypal tenderqueer sensibility until—boom—someone snaps. This makes up the core of Dog Movie’s humour, and the entire cast has punchy comedic timing. Also just charisma—all three stars make this thing work! Speaking of the cast, Blue (the dog[himself]) is a major standout. He’s this omniscient and equally clueless presence of tranquillity that wanders the frames like a ghost. Simultaneously stealing the show, while also having nothing to do with it.

There is a gently hypnotizing dark underpinning to this film that keeps you guessing at a bigger picture. The first most prominent example is an unexplained remark made by Haven, where they reference that they’ve been letting Bloo stay with them ever since… y’know what, doesn’t matter. This mildew roux thickens at Bloo’s allusion to leveraging Nash equilibrium (yeah, I’m cool; I know poker terms) in their social interactions. The most glaring, yet satisfying, was the ironic reference to Bloo’s friend’s farm in Tennessee.

I need to grow and change on my terms, and not on other people’s… yeah… It’s time to go to the farm, for sure.

The subtext between Blue (the dog) and Bloo—their stink/mess, their affinity for nudity, their need to be fed, their lack of awareness—is quite on the nose, but for what this film is reaching for, it still resonates as satiating. This was bolstered by jokes, an intriguing decrepit out-of-tune soundtrack (written by Talwani ), details—that radical empathy poster is so fucking perfect, kaleidoscopic ‘just going out to smoke’ outfits, and some quietly captivating cinematography. 

Unfortunately, that same mentality of ‘satiating for what it is’ can be flipped to frame the film’s total impact. I think there is a ceiling to Dog Movie’s enjoyment just by virtue of its look, scope, and runtime. But as a charming, humour-forward DIY project that finds its feet brushing up against depth, I think this film scores 9.5/10 for its efficacy. Just give the dog his medicine before you go to the party—the party is already at night!

I love the ending. This isn’t any sort of deep analysis—it just felt like the perfect fit.

Dog Movie is certainly worth seeing, and, although playful and ruff (hehe) in execution, the film resonates as universal.

Dog Movie is screening at MUSCLEFEST on Sunday September 6 alongside it’s Hason’s new film, Puppygirl. Get Tickets Here

Dog Movie is also available to rent or purchase on Vimeo.