Dogman

The opening shot declares the film’s subject: a powerful raging vicious snarling white beast strains against the chain preventing his attack. 

That elemental topic can be read in the abstract — the existence of Evil in the world — or in human particulars, whether in the individual psyche, the social network or — dare one suggest? — the community of nations, especially today.

The dogman Marcello in a quietly heroic manner tries to clean the beast, to calm him, to cool him. The chain provides his only chance.

Meanwhile, a  community of dogs uniformly watch that drama, quiet, dignified, perhaps remembering that wildness once in themselves but now secure and peaceful in their separate cages. Perhaps feeling he still has something to prove, a little chihuahua yips a scolding. 

Marcello works his small career — grooming, healing, tending dogs — to sustain his modest life and provide exciting holidays for his young-teen daughter, on the holidays his Ex allows. Their deep-sea diving is a metaphor for his sunken hopes, virtues, away from his dusty village life.

How good is Marcello? He’s bullied into playing getaway driver on a two-man burglary. He’s given a few modest jewels as his “share.” When one of the thugs gloats that he left the victims’ yapping dog in the freezer Marcello actually goes back, climbs into the house — and revives the almost dead pooch. 

Of course, we expect him to be arrested there and left to carry the can. But that will only happen later. His doom is too preordained to happen early.

In the opening scene Marcello works his civilizing magic on this white beast. He’s not so lucky or effective with the village bully, Simone, a hulking cocaine-addicted ex-boxer who terrorizes the community. As Marcello flatters him, when Simone beat up two Romanians it took 10 cops to restrain him.  

As in Billy Budd, here an incredibly innocent hero confronts an elemental villainy — and must be sacrificed. The extremities of absolutes and the rule of law allow no compromise.  

But — spoiler alert — there are differences. Marcello is innocent enough to believe he can survive contact with evil, even abetting it. He provides the brute Simone with cocaine, despite his irregular payment, even despite his ignoring Marcello’s pleas not to take it during the daughter’s visit. 

He enjoys some rewards from abetting evil, like his coke-driven night at the disco. This compromises him enough that when Simone is gunned down in the street Marcello exhausts himself to save his life. His reward is to become even more profoundly Simone’s patsy.

The shooting was clearly on contract. Marcello’s besieged community of merchants met to discuss how to handle their common threat. A contract killing was considered, but without unanimous support.  

Marcello enjoys that community. He eats with them, jokes with them, plays football with them. “They all like me,” he futilely pleads, against Simone’s coercion to betray his neighbour jeweller. 

Simone forces Marcello to enable his robbery. He promises to make him rich. Marcello suffers a year in jail rather than squeal on his bully. We don’t see what he suffers in jail but we see he emerges changed. 

Certainly his station has. His daughter and pet dog are happy to see him but to his neighbours he is a pariah. He is banished their games and their bar. 

Now Marcello is operating on irrational instincts. When Simone refuses to pay for Marcello’s prison time, he batters Simone’s motorcycle. Not a wise move, for he can’t support that rage. Simone beats him up even worse than before. That turns the worm.

Marcello used to talk to his dogs as if they were people, sweeties to be wooed. Now he treats Simone like a dog: flattering him, baiting him with coke, luring him into a cage, then locking and chaining him up. 

What he wants is unclear. As if to recover a dignity he never had he requires an apology. He wants his sacrifice recognized and rewarded. At one point Marcello and Simone seem locked in a mutual death-grip. In effect, Marcello only appears to escape.

After killing Simone, Marcello abandons his plan to burn the corpse. Instead he lugs it to the football field — in deluded hopes of winning back his friends.  But they’re not there.
     In the last shot Marcello sits alone, the corpse on the ground, in the crudely patterned field, having achieved his personal revenge —but at the inevitable cost of his freedom. Where the title initially referred to a man who cares for dogs it ends up with a man reduced to one. As Billy found and accepted, the pack won’t readmit its maverick.