Release date: 11 November 2009
Run time: 97 minutes
Certificate: 18
A sense of unease is constant throughout Yorgos Lanthimos' second feature film. Dogtooth is a gritty and realistic portrayal of three adults living in a fenced compound under the watchful eyes of their parents, who have never let their children go into the outside world in their lives. They feed lies to keep the children inside said compound, telling them the outside world is dangerous and that they can only leave when they lose a dogtooth. Lanthimos tells this story with such skill and technique that by the end of the relatively short runtime, you will feel as if you are awaking from a bad dream. In the very best sense.
Just as the parents control every minute detail of their children's lives, Lanthimos does the same for every shot and composition. The camera is often static, going from scene to scene with unflinching abruptness, and creating a meticulously controlled world on screen. But together with cinematographer Thimios Bakatakis, Lanthimos deploys camera angles that are never quite straight and often characters are only half-framed, their actions sometimes unseen. Every shot is a representation for the repressed world of the adult children; control coupled with unease, with dread, with a certain level of wrong. When a film deploys such tactics, when every shot carries such meaning, one cannot help but become enraptured with the onscreen events, however disconcerting. It is on the same tier as Bong Joon-ho's Parasite (2019), where every shot, every scene, every compositition, has many layers.
Dogtooth is unflinching in its portrayal of violence and sex. The former is portrayed in a fascinating combination of the suburban with the surreal; much like in Parasite, blood splatters a family fridge. Despite the control exerted throughout by the parents, there is always the danger of violence lurking, in much the same way freewill of their children begins to emerge. Sex in Dogtooth is equally unflinching, reaching pornographic levels on multiple occasions and simultaneously dealing with themes of incest. The film is uncomfortable to watch at times and rightfully so; it includes acts that are shocking and is necessarily unshakeable in its portrayal.
The father, portrayed by an impressively impassive and authoritative Christos Stergioglou, visits a dog handler early in the film to check on the family pet, currently housed at a training centre. Six steps are what it will take for the dog to become fully obedient, he is told by the handler. Such parallels to the father's children are clear to see, but Lanthimos expertly amplifies these parallels throughout the film. Cats are the enemy, the parents tell the children, and if anyone leaves their compound they will be mauled by these dangerous predators. The three children, and even the mother at times, are made to woof like dogs. At one point, the children are blindfolded and tasked to reach the centre of the garden, walking like dogs on all fours for much of it. Oral sex, or simply licking as it is referred to by the children, is performed like dogs would lick a bone. Dogtooth portrays an extreme level of parenthood but is still able to comment on the role of parents in a wider sense, questioning what the acceptable levels of control over children are.
Lanthimos has become more widely known within mainstream cinema for The Lobster (2015) and his most recent work, The Favourite (2018). Both bear his now trademark surrealist touch but neither come close to Dogtooth. It is a unique cinematic experience that will engross and repulse audiences. If released now, ten years on and in light of Parasite's recent Oscar success, it may well have been the foreign language winner we had all been waiting for.
4/5
Shocking and saddening in equal measures, this is cinema of the highest level in its meticulous approach and resonant themes.
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