Black Dog is a Chinese film directed by Guan Hu that has achieved the prestigious Un Certain Regard award at this year’s Cannes Film Festival. Spanning 110 minutes, the film stars renowned local names like Eddie Peng, Jia Zhangke, and Tong Liya. Lucky for local audiences, it was also screened at the Jogja-Netpac Asian Film Festival (JAFF) 2024 earlier this month. So, how remarkable is this film’s achievement?
Lang (played by Peng) is a former convict who returns to his desolate hometown, accused of murder. Situated on the edge of the barren Gobi Desert, his hometown has changed drastically in the 10 years since his departure—it’s now a ghost town, abandoned by most of its residents. Stray dogs roam the streets in large numbers. As the city gears up for the 2008 Olympics and urban modernization, authorities launch efforts to tackle the “dog problem.” Lang joins the team tasked with capturing these animals, only to form an unexpected bond with a stray black dog. The dog gradually becomes his companion, loyally accompanying him as he navigates his inner turmoil amidst a city undergoing rapid transformation.
It’s clear who the real star of this film is: the dogs. Not just one, but dozens, even hundreds of them. The portrayal of dogs as central characters in film is nothing new. From Rescued by Rover (1905), Benji (1974), Hachiko Monogatari (1987), Hachi: A Dog’s Tale (2009), White God (2014), and many others, films have shown that dogs can take on significant roles as if they were human characters. While it’s nearly impossible to have complete cooperation from dogs during production, these films suggest otherwise. Black Dog exemplifies this brilliantly, winning the Palm Dog Award at Cannes this year.
This is evident right from the opening shot: a bus crashes after being interrupted by a large pack of dogs crossing in front of it. Astonishingly, this sequence is captured in a single panning shot. The filmmakers somehow managed to direct so many dogs at once. Similar feats continue throughout the movie, particularly with the titular black dog. It’s almost surreal how the dog can appear fierce yet tender, all within a single shot.
One unforgettable scene involves a fight between Lang and several men. The black dog jumps through a window, shattering the glass to intervene. How is that even possible? It’s as if the dog understood precise staging directions: “Bark briefly here, then leap through that window.” It’s almost too incredible to believe—you simply have to see it to understand.
Beyond this, Black Dog boasts extraordinary production value. The portrayal of a dying small town with remnants of its former vibrancy is exceptionally convincing. The set includes towering abandoned buildings, empty shops, hospitals, trains, circuses, and even a defunct zoo with a few remaining animals. It evokes memories of Kowloon Walled City in Twilight of the Warriors (2023), which had an equally stunning setting—but Black Dog’s is entirely authentic. The combination of the desert climate (wind, storms, sand) and the presence of stray dogs creates a vivid, unparalleled cinematic environment. It’s one of the most remarkable film sets I’ve ever encountered.
The cinematography is equally unique, dominated by wide shots. There isn’t a single close-up of a character’s face in the entire film. The director often holds shots for extended periods, emphasizing the emotional distance between the camera (and the audience) and the characters. It feels as though each scene is a self-contained fragment, woven together without delving too deeply into any individual character. This approach reflects the film’s core theme—a depiction of China’s transformative era through the lens of its characters.
Simply put, Black Dog captures the sweeping changes in China that have shaped it into the modern superpower it is today. Lang, a man imprisoned for 10 years, symbolizes the remnants of a bygone era. His nostalgic perspective clashes with the modernization of his hometown, while the stray dogs, especially the black dog, serve as a metaphor for the city’s soul. Lang, the dog, and the remaining townspeople are all in the same boat—victims of change.
Loudspeaker announcements (symbolizing authority and modernization) echo persistently throughout the film, reminding residents of the inevitable march of progress. The solar eclipse in the final scene is a brilliant metaphor, signifying that modernization is an unstoppable global process. Lang attempts one last grand gesture—a daring jump on his old motorbike—but ultimately fails. Who can truly resist the tide of time?
Black Dog combines rare production value with a grounded story that reflects its historical context. It is one of the most brilliant and impactful films I’ve seen in decades. I sincerely hope it gains recognition at major awards like the Academy Awards or Golden Globes, though neither has included it. It’s been years since a Chinese film like Hero (2002) or The Flowers of War (2011), both directed by Zhang Yimou, received nominations in these categories. Why the decline? That remains a question worth pondering.
