Heart of the beast

October 16 – 22

Fri Oct 16 – 7 pm
Sat Oct 17 – 7 pm
Sun Oct 18 – 1:30 & 7 pm
Mon Oct 19 – 7 pm
Tues Oct 20 – 7 pm
Wed Oct 21 – 3:30 pm Show ONLY
Thurs Oct 22 – 1:30 & 7 pm

Adventure / Mystery / Action
Rated PG — 1 hr 42 min

Dogs have been a staple of cinema since the form began. They didn’t have professional canine coordinators in the early 20th century, so the canines act pretty much as canines do—inquisitive and slightly unruly. With the discovery and training of the dogs who portrayed the heroic Rin Tin Tin, the devoted Toto and the dryly humorous Asta, the cinematic profile of dogs became much more professional.

But the history of combat dogs is longer still, dating back to ancient civilizations that trained fierce breeds to attack and defend. The U.S. tradition has been a bit more humane, training dogs as messengers, sentries, and ambulance assistants. Heart of the Beast, a new film whose human star is Brad Pitt, but whose featured canine Uber, a handsome and expressive German Shepherd, trots away with the picture as Odin, sometimes referred to as Odie. (Which is weird because Odie is the goofy dog in Jim Davis’ Garfield comic strip.) The title beast in Heart of the Beast, directed by David Ayer from a script by Cameron Alexander, is a little bit of everything, including, of course, best friend to Brad Pitt’s retired Special Forces officer James Belmont.

There are movies that make you jump out of your seat, and then there are movies that make you sit very still, your shoulders slowly tightening, waiting for something terrible to happen. Heart of the Beast belongs to the latter category. Brad Pitt leads this affecting survival drama in which the bond between a retired soldier and his service dog becomes the heart of the story.

Director David Ayer’s film is remarkably spare. There is very little dialogue, few characters and, for long stretches, just Brad Pitt and Odin, a German Shepherd, navigating an unforgiving wilderness. Yet the film rarely feels empty. Its silences become part of the storytelling, allowing the landscape, the sounds of the forest, Jared Michael Fry’s evocative score and the two central performances to carry the weight.

Pitt plays James Belmont, a retired Army Special Forces veteran still haunted by the trauma of his military service. Odin is his former military working dog, also a veteran and also carrying his own scars, including a prosthetic leg. The film doesn’t turn Odin’s disability into a gimmick or easy sentimentality. He is watchful, fiercely loyal and loving.

What follows is a gruelling trek through a landscape that is beautiful, vast and entirely indifferent to their survival. Bears, wolves, brutal weather, injuries, exhaustion and the unknown turn the journey into a test of physical and psychological endurance.

Survival here is not about spectacular heroics. James’s training gives him the skills to improvise, but even those are tested by the wilderness. Sometimes, all you can do is put one foot in front of the other and refuse to leave the other behind. It is in these moments that the film’s emotional tug takes hold. You begin to worry for both man and dog, to feel each setback almost physically, and to hope that they will make it out together.

Pitt’s performance is remarkably restrained, conveying James’s exhaustion, fear and vulnerability through his physicality, expressions and silences. So much of his inner life remains unspoken that a look, a gesture or the way he reaches for Odin can say more than dialogue.