“You are on your own. Nothing happens to men like us because we live on a daily basis, ”says a Chechen immigrant to homeless Syrian children in Istanbul in Mutt. Nomadic and uprooted existences are at the center of the documentary by director / producer / editor / cinematographer Elizabeth Lo, but humans are just the peripheral actors in this impressive nonfiction investigation, which really trains your gaze on some of the myriad canines that roam the streets of the city. A spiritual piece that accompanies the year 2016 by Ceyda Torun Kedi (which concerns the legions of cats that inhabit this same metropolis), Lo’s film reveals the secret life of dogs. In doing so, she draws clear parallels between their world and ours, and our shared desires for sustenance, comfort and company.
Following a 20º century in which authorities tried to exterminate animals (leading to mass killings), widespread protests turned the city into one of the few places on the planet where it is illegal to sacrifice and keep any stray dog captive – meaning that on virtually every sidewalk , in each alley and near each dump, canines gather, looking for food, fighting, rubbing their nose and trying to survive. Their situation is unromantic, although not without their pleasures, and Lo’s camera takes on the whole perspective, maintaining a low position on the ground while following these dogs from side to side, on busy sidewalks where people barely notice them, in streets where cars stop to let them pass and on the beaches where they are free to run, play and roll and occasionally turn and snarl at unknown intruders.
Mutt he focuses his attention on a trio of dogs – starting with Zeytin, whose striking tan coloring and large, sad eyes are as expressive as his movements through Istanbul’s various neighborhoods are casual. With an expression sometimes wrinkled on his face and a right ear that hangs a little lower than the left, Zeytin is a native of this urban landscape, equally at ease on his well-paved sidewalks, in his parks next to busy avenues and on irregular stretches of mountainous terrain decorated with giant rocky outcrops and ruins of buildings whose columns are still standing. Zeytin has a confidence that makes her a perfect guide for this environment, as well as making her popular with locals, many of whom know her by name. This includes a collection of young Syrian migrants who live on the streets and, as we learned through random snippets of conversation, are known to sniff glue and are under constant threat of being arrested by the authorities.
Zeytin will soon be paired Mutt with the sympathetic Nazar and the black and white cub Kartal, the last of whom is in the care of Syrian children after they beg a local man for one of his many stray animals, and he acquiesces in saying that they can return at night and steal one for them. The similarities between the Istanbul dog and the refugee populations are not difficult to discern, and Director Lo does not italicize or force such echoes, instead of allowing them to materialize from the process in question. Through careful selection and juxtaposition of scenes, she makes an analogy of the struggle of animals and children to survive, their territorial disputes with others (whether with other dogs, or tourists and police officers who prefer to keep the streets free from homeless youths) ), and his longing for love – or, at the very least, a warm body to curl up under a blanket at night.
Lo shares his film with textual quotes about the nobility of dogs (mainly from the Greek philosopher Diogenes, around 300 BC), but, on the other hand, avoids open comments. Even human voices in Mutt they are heard only in fragments and, sometimes, through distorted audio that intends to imitate how Zeytin, Nazar and Kartal can experience them. These fragments of dialogue are sometimes comical (like comments about two dogs having sex during a women’s rights march), sometimes political (like when men argue over whether to vote for the Nationalist Movement Party) and sometimes just as common as a lorry truck. trash operator punishing Nazar for not sharing a fleshy bone found in the trash with Zeytin. This commentary is usually a background, but it still remains a key component of Lo’s observational examination of the urgent concerns, fissures and treatment of those who reside in its peripheries.
Mutt it is most evocative when you simply trot alongside or behind your canine protagonists, capturing (and subtly imitating) the balance of their bodies, the pace of their gait, the curiosity in their eyes and the potential malice of their circumstances – a fact transmitted by an excellent sequence in which Lo’s camera chases Zeytin down a night street, almost losing sight of it, only to have the euphoria of the moment (amplified by Ali Helnwein’s score) interrupted by a sudden explosion of dog-to-dog violence that was suppressed by Syrian children. At that moment, the film recognizes the fine division between ecstasy and brutality that defines the daily lives of these dogs, as well as the sound design (courtesy of Leviathan and Sweet grass‘Ernst Karel) duplicates the swirling combination of noises – birds singing, car horns honking, disembodied chatter – that engulfs them as they wander from the dilapidated construction site to the storefront to the gray shipyard.
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Lo’s portrait of these rebel dogs is often melancholy, especially when it comes to Kartal, whose acclimation to these difficult areas seems, by the look in his eyes, to inspire a significant degree of trepidation. However, there are also moments of amusing levity, such as when Zeytin trips over a cat hidden in a row of bushes in the park and, suddenly excited by this discovery, goes out in immediate pursuit. Mutt he does not shy away from good or bad, documenting his four-legged subjects as they jump, jump, run, fight, snore, snarl, sleep and seek protection, food and rest. The more you observe them, the more you take advantage of the universality of your experience, all without losing sight of the uniqueness of your character and situation.
With a perceptive neo-realistic grace, Mutt it allows your dogs’ actions in the face of neglect, neglect and abuse to speak volumes about their resilience and benevolence, their ferocity and their compassion. In doing so, the film also says a lot about men and women willing to help the less fortunate – and also about those who turn a blind eye to creatures in need.