Dogs have been a staple of cinema since the form began. Look at Louis Feuillade’s serials, which include scenes of dogs hunting elusive criminals. They didn’t have professional canine coordinators in the early 20th century, so the canines act pretty much as canines do—inquisitive and slightly unruly. With the discovery and training of the dogs who portrayed the heroic Rin Tin Tin, the devoted Toto and the dryly humorous Asta, the cinematic profile of dogs became much more professional.
But the history of combat dogs is longer still, dating back to ancient civilizations that trained fierce breeds to attack and defend. The U.S. tradition has been a bit more humane, training dogs as messengers, sentries, and ambulance assistants. See: “Heart of the Beast,” a new film whose human star is Brad Pitt, but whose featured canine Uber, a handsome and expressive German Shepherd, trots away with the picture as Odin, sometimes referred to as Odie. (Which is weird because Odie is the goofy dog in Jim Davis’ “Garfield” comic strip.) The title beast in “Heart of the Beast,” directed by David Ayer from a script by Cameron Alexander, is a little bit of everything, including, of course, best friend to Brad Pitt’s retired Special Forces officer James Belmont.
Belmont’s soldiering days are behind him as he pilots his Cessna into a remote part of Alaska. Or at least they are behind him temporally. Both he and his dog are haunted by nightmares of their deployment in the Middle East. The dog lost a front leg. James suffered physical, spiritual, and mental wounds. Trauma strengthened their bonds. The trip into the wilderness is apparently intended to heal. At first things look pretty good. James lands the plane by the river, pitches a tent, lights a fire, and takes out a book. The tent is cozy, capacious. The fire is ideal for pan-frying trout that Odie plucked out of a stream by mouth. A friendly white-bearded stranger, played by J.K. Simmons in extra-avuncular mode, paddles by and offers conversation/encouragement.
The idyll doesn’t last. James and Odie will soon face the loss of pretty much everything they need to survive in the gorgeous but unforgiving wilderness. Taking the Cessna up to avoid a perilous weather system, James actually suffers a heart attack while pushing above the clouds. The pair survive. Later in the woods, James suffers a compound arm fracture and actually has to enlist Odie in fashioning a tourniquet. No, really. There’s a perilous tree bridge with water rapids below—one is reminded of the immortal line from “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” “Swim? The fall’ll probably kill you!”—and at least one nice steep hill to crawl up and slide down. All in pursuit of the only road available on James’ map.
Where the movie falters, relatively severely, is in depicting other flesh-and-blood perils, including a bear and a wolf pack, which are rendered via CGI and really kind of look it. One appreciates why this is the case, but CGI’s a tricky thing; under certain circumstances (largely, but not exclusively, related to budget) it can work seamlessly. And when it doesn’t, it shows, and unfortunately it shows here.
But when the movie gives us time with its actual flesh-and-blood components, “Heart of the Beast” consistently moves. My overall reception of the movie, I am compelled to admit, could have been swayed by the screening I attended, a promotional affair aimed at varied dog owners of New York City, and I was seated in a row directly ahead of a lovely red Golden Retriever named Violet, who is apparently running for New York’s “Dog Mayor.” I didn’t know such an office existed, but there’s a website for it and everything. Violet was a charmer, in any event.
