Dog Eat Dog | Little White Lies

Dog Eat Dog

14 Nov 2016 / Released: 18 Nov 2016

Two men in formal attire, one in a grey suit and the other in a black and yellow jacket, standing together in a dimly lit setting.
Two men in formal attire, one in a grey suit and the other in a black and yellow jacket, standing together in a dimly lit setting.
3

Anticipation.

Always worth seeing what Big Paul’s up to.

3

Enjoyment.

Pure dirty, nasty fun, and nothing more.

3

In Retrospect.

Instantly forgettable, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Paul Schrad­er gets sil­ly with a 90s-inspired crime caper which prizes stoopid fun above all else.

Hey kids, who remem­bers the 90s? They were so cool! Indie movies, florid dia­logue, loud colours, tilty angles, post­mod­ern takes on clas­sic movies… Dog Eat Dog, adapt­ed from the late screen actor Edward Bunker’s 1996 nov­el, sees direc­tor Paul Schrad­er mak­ing a flip­pant lark which looks back to that hal­lowed era, but also mocks it bru­tal­ly and relent­less­ly. It doesn’t just mock it, it shoots holes in the floor and makes it dance a jig for sick kicks.

The first irony here is that the sto­ry takes place in the unlove­ly-look­ing city of Cleve­land (referred to as The Big C’), whose land­scape com­pris­es sole­ly of strip malls and strip clubs. It sees a lo-fi trio of two-time losers on a road to obliv­ion, adamant to get rich or die try­ing. Troy (Nico­las Cage) is the brains, a man of style and refined taste, but still quick to vio­lence. Then there’s Diesel (Christo­pher Matthew Cook), a gen­tle giant who is also quick to vio­lence. And final­ly there’s Mad Dog (Willem Dafoe) who has no oth­er traits bar the fact that he is quick to violence.

Schrad­er posts these hap­less recidi­vists on a jour­ney – quite lit­er­al­ly, as he plays Troy’s wiseguy under­world con­tact – in the hope that they’ll make enough cash to jet off to Hawaii so we’ll nev­er see them again. But things start to go wrong before any­thing has even hap­pened. As with his vast­ly under­rat­ed porn indus­try satire, The Canyons, this new film pos­sess­es a noth­ing-to-lose ener­gy that pow­ers it inel­e­gant­ly past the fin­ish line and beyond. It feels like the kind of film that Robert Rodriguez has been try­ing and fail­ing to make for the past 20 years, with its ultra salty ban­ter, per­pet­u­al wise­crack­ing, casu­al vio­lence and a dark soul that glim­mers with nos­tal­gic reverence.

And while that might sound like damn­ing the film with faint praise, a less mealy-mouthed assess­ment would be that Dog Eat Dog achieves every­thing it sets out to do, and it sets out to offer a no-ques­tions-asked cheap shot of dirty fun.

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