A film like Black Dog, written and directed by Guan Hu, does not often come along, where the art and power of cinema truly leave one with a perspective on life and the world we live in that stuns you. Winning the Un Certain Regard prize at the 77th annual Festival de Cannes, where it premiered, Black Dog was filmed on the edge of the Gobi desert in Northwest China. Without cause or reason, Black Dog opens with a pack of dogs running across lifeless desert hills, alarming a mass transit bus, which tips over. As the passengers empty out into the desert, the excitement of the accident bares nothing on Lang (Eddie Peng), who has returned to his hometown after being released from jail. The dogs appear to have control, looking on from distant hills, which seems odd and unnerving, setting the mood for what becomes a strange dystopian landscape that fully captures one’s attention.
Lang has very little to say as we learn he has come home to Chxia to face haters, the Hu family, for a crime he must live with and to see his father, who has moved to a zoo to take care of what is left of the animal. At his home, where plants appear to thrive in a seemingly wasteland of a town and land, Lang tries to acclimate and uncovers his motorcycle. Yet, the Hu family’s hatred is relentless, and since they considered him a murderer and sent him to prison, his return is tenuous. In a grey and colorless place, Lang reengages with the town of Chxia, learning that it’s being repurposed despite experiencing abandonment. Little is left of what might have been a thriving place.
“Lang has come home to Chxia to face haters, the Hu family, for a crime he must live with…”
While working for the local dog patrol team to clear the town of stray dogs before the Beijing Olympics, he strikes up an unlikely connection with a black dog, as two lonely outcasts finding purpose in each other, and the bonding seems unbelievable and well-orchestrated. Lang connects to odd people, including a group of traveling performers and one woman in particular, and a spectrum of Chinese scenarios, people, places, and things, especially saving the head of the Hu family from a rattlesnake bite, thus changing his life’s destiny.
The vision and lens through which Guan Hu presents this intense but fascinating film make Black Dog unforgettable and haunting long after watching. It’s an insight into a culture so few understand. Hearing the news, the weather and events on the loudspeakers are unusual, at least to Americans, but they are dailful to those in China. It is a metaphor for the future and a look into humanity and its connection to nature—is it lost or rising like a phoenix, which appears to be Lang’s future?
Black Dog is about connection to an animal, a pet, which lives by instinct, as does Lang. It’s also about survival, the story of Chxia, perhaps China, nature, humanity, and humans. How many people can be strong enough to endure what Black Dog presents? And, yet, there’s an appreciation for a culture and place that has existed for thousands of years, that has been widdled down to a lifeless land, or is it about the ability to keep something alive and moving forward? Only can the art and intention of cinema allow an audience an effortless connection to routine and dailiness within a shocking reality. Although Black Dog is a film from China produced and directed by Chinese filmmaker Guan Hu, its dystopian setting and themes resonate with everyone, especially in the present world in which we all live, and with a soundtrack that includes a bit of Pink Floyd, a fitting choice by Guan Hu bringing Black Dog full circle.
"…The vision and lens through which Guan Hu presents this intense but fascinating film make Black Dog unforgettable and haunting long after watching."
