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kamreadsandrecsFor a great deal of my life, I've lived around dogs. I don't recall seeing many of them when I was very, very young and still living in North Greenhills, but when my family moved to Paranaque I was surrounded by my paternal grandmother's dogs - a group of who were mostly made up of Japanese spitz/poodle mixes, with the traits of the two aforementioned dogs showing up in varying degrees in each different dog. Nevertheless, my grandmother loved them, and so did I. Even today I love dogs, even though my greatest aspiration is to own a cat. Actually, my greatest aspiration is to own both a cat and a dog, but in my family's household, the cat is never going to happen.
As such, I am very aware of how strong the ties between a human and his or her pet dog can be. Case in point: my mom was heartbroken when our first dog, Tazz (a black-and-white Lhasa Apso) passed away, and she didn't recover until we got Drew, our "Princess Breed" Shih-Tzu who was given to her by my aunts in order to relieve her depression. And my sister, currently in Dubai, constantly checks on Brandy, who is, for all intents and purposes, her dog.
There are more historical and literary instances of such loyalty and devotion, and these stories have been made into movies, with the movie Hachiko, based on a very popular true story from Japan, being the most recent one in live-action that I know of. However, this subject has also been a favorite for animators, and of those movies, My Dog Tulip is likely the most recent, and maybe, just maybe, one of the most beautiful and touching.
Based on a book of the same title by J.R. Ackerley, My Dog Tulip is directed by Paul and Sandra Fierlinger, who are known for producing indie-style animated movies. It is Sandra who does the artwork for this movie, and she does them in a very distinctive style, using a combination of inks and watercolors as the basis for what is, essentially, a moving watercolor painting. While the flash-and-bang of the typical Pixar movie is absent, and even the brilliant, sun-drenched colors of a movie like The Secret of Kells are only seen occasionally, that doesn't really matter in the least. This is not, after all, a movie meant for children (or adults, for that matter) with short attention spans and who need pretty colors to keep them focused.
Those who love their video games might be tempted to compare this to the video game Okami, and in some ways they won't be wrong. Both the game and this movie are essentially moving paintings, and both involve members of the canine species, but Okami is directed at a less serious audience, and thus is filled with bright, eye-catching details. My Dog Tulip has its moments of color, but it's not always so. This is, after all, set in England, and while England can be bright and cheerful, more often than not it can be dark and a bit gray. This does not, of course, detract in the least from the movie; in fact, these muted colors might be considered an asset, because it showcases a maturity telling the viewer that while this might be an animated movie, it most assuredly for adults.
And speaking of maturity, the lead character is a somewhat grouchy, but always lonely (but aren't those traits always linked?) old man named "Joe" (technically the author of novel, J.R. Ackerley), voiced in a wonderful performance by Christopher Plummer, who rescues the dog of the title, Tulip, from an unhappy home. The story itself might seem more like a how-to guide for taking care of a German Shepherd (though Joe calls Tulip "an Alsatian bitch": "Alsatian" is another name for the German Shepherd, and "bitch" is what you call a female dog), it quickly becomes clear that this is not only about taking care of a dog, but what happens between master and pet as aforementioned master cares for said pet.
While Joe's actions to make Tulip's life happier (including attempts to find her a "husband") are all quite familiar to anyone who loves their dogs or knows people who are like that with their dogs, they are far more telling of the way that Tulip trains Joe, not the other way around. It is Tulip who sees how lonely and sad Joe is, and she attempts, in her own doggy way, to make him happy, to love him and to protect him, to be everything he will ever need by way of happiness and contentment in his life. As the text at the end seems to indicate, human beings were bound to grow lonely, and thus it's almost a sheer stroke of luck that dogs came along, and have evolved into our perfect companions (which is precisely what Joe wants at the beginning of the movie), to make sure that they never want for love, happiness, and companionship ever again.
And while it is true that Tulip is dead at the end of the movie, Joe makes it clear that the fifteen years she spent with him were some of the happiest in his life, in spite of all the trials and difficulties she gave him. Those fifteen years were perfect, a gift whole and entire, and he is grateful to have had them, no matter how short they might have seemed to him.
I know I have said before that Toy Story 3 is going to get nominated for, and likely win, the Best Animated Feature Film category of the Oscars. There is a great possibility that it will, but I'm not so sure about it winning. My Dog Tulip speaks to its viewers in a deeper way than Toy Story 3 does. I'm not a cryer, but My Dog Tulip had me tearing up at the end, and even now, writing this, it's still making me tear up. Tulip and Joe share a companionship that we all, at some level, desire, and wish that we could have, whether it be with a fellow human being or some other animal companion, furry, feathered, or otherwise. And that kind of trumps the nostalgia factor of Toy Story 3 by a mile.
Whether or not it gets nominated, though, My Dog Tulip is a treat, not only because of its unique visuals, but, more importantly, for what it tries to remind us: that somewhere out there is someone who will alleviate our loneliness and be our ideal companion, but just in case it doesn't happen to be human, then you can always count on fur and four legs that barks to be there whenever you need or want it - and really, no human can top that.
As such, I am very aware of how strong the ties between a human and his or her pet dog can be. Case in point: my mom was heartbroken when our first dog, Tazz (a black-and-white Lhasa Apso) passed away, and she didn't recover until we got Drew, our "Princess Breed" Shih-Tzu who was given to her by my aunts in order to relieve her depression. And my sister, currently in Dubai, constantly checks on Brandy, who is, for all intents and purposes, her dog.
There are more historical and literary instances of such loyalty and devotion, and these stories have been made into movies, with the movie Hachiko, based on a very popular true story from Japan, being the most recent one in live-action that I know of. However, this subject has also been a favorite for animators, and of those movies, My Dog Tulip is likely the most recent, and maybe, just maybe, one of the most beautiful and touching.
Based on a book of the same title by J.R. Ackerley, My Dog Tulip is directed by Paul and Sandra Fierlinger, who are known for producing indie-style animated movies. It is Sandra who does the artwork for this movie, and she does them in a very distinctive style, using a combination of inks and watercolors as the basis for what is, essentially, a moving watercolor painting. While the flash-and-bang of the typical Pixar movie is absent, and even the brilliant, sun-drenched colors of a movie like The Secret of Kells are only seen occasionally, that doesn't really matter in the least. This is not, after all, a movie meant for children (or adults, for that matter) with short attention spans and who need pretty colors to keep them focused.
Those who love their video games might be tempted to compare this to the video game Okami, and in some ways they won't be wrong. Both the game and this movie are essentially moving paintings, and both involve members of the canine species, but Okami is directed at a less serious audience, and thus is filled with bright, eye-catching details. My Dog Tulip has its moments of color, but it's not always so. This is, after all, set in England, and while England can be bright and cheerful, more often than not it can be dark and a bit gray. This does not, of course, detract in the least from the movie; in fact, these muted colors might be considered an asset, because it showcases a maturity telling the viewer that while this might be an animated movie, it most assuredly for adults.
And speaking of maturity, the lead character is a somewhat grouchy, but always lonely (but aren't those traits always linked?) old man named "Joe" (technically the author of novel, J.R. Ackerley), voiced in a wonderful performance by Christopher Plummer, who rescues the dog of the title, Tulip, from an unhappy home. The story itself might seem more like a how-to guide for taking care of a German Shepherd (though Joe calls Tulip "an Alsatian bitch": "Alsatian" is another name for the German Shepherd, and "bitch" is what you call a female dog), it quickly becomes clear that this is not only about taking care of a dog, but what happens between master and pet as aforementioned master cares for said pet.
While Joe's actions to make Tulip's life happier (including attempts to find her a "husband") are all quite familiar to anyone who loves their dogs or knows people who are like that with their dogs, they are far more telling of the way that Tulip trains Joe, not the other way around. It is Tulip who sees how lonely and sad Joe is, and she attempts, in her own doggy way, to make him happy, to love him and to protect him, to be everything he will ever need by way of happiness and contentment in his life. As the text at the end seems to indicate, human beings were bound to grow lonely, and thus it's almost a sheer stroke of luck that dogs came along, and have evolved into our perfect companions (which is precisely what Joe wants at the beginning of the movie), to make sure that they never want for love, happiness, and companionship ever again.
And while it is true that Tulip is dead at the end of the movie, Joe makes it clear that the fifteen years she spent with him were some of the happiest in his life, in spite of all the trials and difficulties she gave him. Those fifteen years were perfect, a gift whole and entire, and he is grateful to have had them, no matter how short they might have seemed to him.
I know I have said before that Toy Story 3 is going to get nominated for, and likely win, the Best Animated Feature Film category of the Oscars. There is a great possibility that it will, but I'm not so sure about it winning. My Dog Tulip speaks to its viewers in a deeper way than Toy Story 3 does. I'm not a cryer, but My Dog Tulip had me tearing up at the end, and even now, writing this, it's still making me tear up. Tulip and Joe share a companionship that we all, at some level, desire, and wish that we could have, whether it be with a fellow human being or some other animal companion, furry, feathered, or otherwise. And that kind of trumps the nostalgia factor of Toy Story 3 by a mile.
Whether or not it gets nominated, though, My Dog Tulip is a treat, not only because of its unique visuals, but, more importantly, for what it tries to remind us: that somewhere out there is someone who will alleviate our loneliness and be our ideal companion, but just in case it doesn't happen to be human, then you can always count on fur and four legs that barks to be there whenever you need or want it - and really, no human can top that.
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hi
Date: 2011-01-24 10:47 pm (UTC)Stella.