Dog Review: A Comic and Melancholic Look at the Post-War Life of Veterans

Reid Carolin and Channing Tatum make their directorial debuts with Dog, and it’s apparent from the film’s cool, unassuming style that they learned a thing or two from their collaborations with Steven Soderbergh, namely on Magic Mike and Logan Lucky. That’s evident in Dog’s rhythmic editing, elegant long takes, and naturalistic performances. Most interestingly, though, it’s obvious that they were inspired by Soderbergh’s canny ability to smuggle a nuanced inquiry of a social issue under the guise of popular entertainment.

In the case of Dog, the cover is the road movie and the issue is the struggle to adjust to civilian life after service. Jackson Briggs (Tatum), a down-and-out ex-Army Ranger, is recruited to drive an unruly, retired Army service dog named Lulu down the Pacific Coast to Arizona in order to attend the funeral of Lulu’s former handler. Naturally, antics ensue as Jackson routinely finds himself in over his head when trying to handle Lulu. But these moments—which include Lulu tearing the seats of Jackson’s truck and running away from Jackson, thus forcing him to give chase—aren’t your typical odd-couple shenanigans, given their depth and subtext.

Though Jackson and Lulu’s escapades are largely comedic in nature, they’re also tinged with melancholy, as Carolin’s script is careful to draw a line directly between them and the inability of veterans to leave the trauma and mindset of combat behind them. Dog also allows Carolin and Tatum to show how Jackson and Lulu interact with people of all stripes and how support is difficult to come by, especially for Jackson. From a spiteful San Francisco cop (Bill Burr), who, as an ex-military police officer, is fueled by longstanding resentment toward Army Rangers, to liberal citizens who view Jackson as a pawn of imperialism, the film understands the different ideological positions that work to ensure that Jackson is ostracized from society.

The film’s resonance, though, is intermittently undermined by its characterizations, as many of the people that Jackson and Lulu encounter on their trip are often portrayed so broadly as to come off as crude. Carolin and Tatum are undoubtably sensitive toward the struggles that ex-servicepeople face in adjusting to civilian life, but their depiction of an Army base that Jackson visits early in the film sees their patriotism perverted by jingoism. And considering the cartoonish stereotypes on display during a pit stop in Portland, you wouldn’t be remiss in thinking that the film was picking up a transmission from an episode of Portlandia.

But even up to Dog’s denouement, where a quick and tidy little ribbon is tied to nearly every plotline, you also don’t doubt that Carolin and Tatum’s growing pains as filmmakers are relatively benign. The duo’s thoughtful and prismatic approach to outlining the social issue at the center of the narrative is by and large relaxed and free of didacticism. This skillful handling of the material makes Dog’s vision brim with a sturdy confidence—to the point where it’s easy to believe that veteran craftsmen are sitting behind the camera.