From the outset of this writing, I had all intentions in the world of crafting a prose as delicate and precariously balanced as a Wes Anderson film demands. But, it turns out such feet is considerably out of my reach. Anderson’s style is like the moon in the sky, so close you can touch it, and yet so far, you never stood a chance. He is a unique and prolific director with a vision that demands detail and commands attention. His latest film, Isle of Dogs, undoubtedly is no different. The tale of a boy and his dog is a somewhat universal concept, if only not completely because girls and dogs have just as strong of a bond, but nevertheless, has been transplanted from its western normative settings unto the rising sun of the east, Japan. During a manufactured political fury, dogs have been outlawed and exiled to Trash Island due to the onset of a mysterious disease that threatens to cross the species barrier. Undiluted in only the way Anderson can concoct, the tale is told through multiple dimensions of perspective, from dogs, cats, boys, girls, women, men, newscasts, translators, tyrants, and scientists.

What you find as soon as the film starts, with its loud and bombastic Japanese ceremonial drums, is that it demands you watch the entire screen. Commonly, film tends to force you to look to the center of the screen, leaving the outskirts to tailor to minor detail or flavor. Isle of Dogs instead has your eyes darting left, right, top, and bottom, characterizing the scene, character, or background with a level of detail that is informative but never overwhelming. Isle of Dogs lives to please and entertain the eye. And to please our ears, a gang of dogs marooned on Trash Island are played by some of the best acting talent out there. Chief, a scrappy stray voiced by Bryan Cranston, leads (or decidedly democratically motivates) a crew  of domesticated survivors, Rex (Edward Norton), King (Bob Balaban), Boss (Bill Murray), and Duke (Jeff Goldblum). Ready to assist any human, the domestic dogs are excited when Atari Kobayashi (Koyu Rankin), orphaned nephew of the dictator Mayor Kobayashi (Kunichi Nomura), crashes onto the island, searching for his guard dog Spots (Liev Schreiber). Through a series of stunted communications and hilariously specific rumors by Duke, the gang sets of to find the missing Spots, despite Chief’s concerns of humans and their intentions.

Meanwhile, in Megasaki city, an alternate WWII future hybrid of Tokyo, the high school students organize a resistance to the removal of the dogs lead by exchange student Tracy Walker (Greta Gerwig) who believes (correctly) that there is a conspiracy afoot, and that science has already solved this crisis. The film unfolds brilliantly, switching between english and japanese through a series of oddly specific means of communication, sometimes ignoring any translation at all, context being king. The animation is vivid, bright, detailed, and expertly executed, creating an entertaining fluidity akin to Coraline, Kubo and the Two Strings, and Fantastic Mr. Fox (also an Anderson creation).

The only real downsides of the are in some ways its greatest strengths. If you are seeing this in theaters, sit as far back as possible. Because the film utilizes the entire screen, sitting in the coveted upper-middle can be disorienting and often make you feel like you are missing something because you aren’t sure where you will need to look next. There is also an amazing amount of setting left to context. The less you know of Japan, its language and customs, the more you will be missing out on. This isn’t to say it is the films job to educate, its simply an observation of mine. There is also an onslaught of information being slung at the viewer in every scene, not all of which you will catch on your first view, and maybe not even your second. It changes direction at breakneck speed, panning left and right over endless information.

Isle of Dogs delighted me as much as any of Anderson’s other films, give or take, but when he decides to animate his vision, you get a much more refined view of everything Anderson has to offer. There are moments where I can’t even be sure he’s directed his actors at all, simply asking them to read the lines as written, providing their own emphasis where they feel like it, culminating in a performance as organic as it was imagined when it was written on the page. Stop motion animation is unique because every movement is hand placed. In the Isle of Dogs, there isn’t a frame lacking in expression or intention, like a subtle umami throughout. There are moments where you can swear you can see the fingerprints in the clay, leaving behind the artist’s impressions, literally. With your heartstrings thoroughly strummed, Anderson ensures that when you pick yourself up out of your seat you are left realizing the bonds of trust cross species, time, and place, one frame at a time.

~* 9/10 *~