Film: White God (2014)

Revowooftion

It seems the more festival films that I watch the more transparent their mechanics become - be visually exciting, re-appropriate national specificity so it’s easily translatable to a global audience and always, always, cast a child/teenager as the main character.

White God (2014) is a Hungarian film directed by Kornél Mundruczó which follows Lili (a young teenager) and her dog Hagen. The film delivers a dualistic narrative after Hagen is cast away by Lilis father Daniel, jumping between the despair and viciousness Hagen encounters on the streets, and Lilis search for him, as well as other aspects of her life. 

            Hagen and all the other dogs throughout the film are treated with utter malevolence, and certain language used in the opening half hour, such as comparisons to monsters and the accusation “half-breeds [dogs] have to pay tax”, leads one to instantly assume the allegorical nature of them. Considering Hungary’s nationalistic government, the obvious group the film is connoting are refugees, but as is increasingly the case with the festival film, it uses plenty of other signifiers such as homelessness, chains and ownership to universalise a general theme of oppression, leaving open an interpretation for any minority group you like. It culminates in an uprising, the dogs breaking free from imprisonment at the dog pound and taking to the streets to lay revenge upon their oppressors.

            This film has been a different experience for me as a viewer. During and immediately following the screening, I was very impressed with the film and its allegorical nature, but upon further reflection I find it a lot more underwhelming. 

            Much like Hollywood in a sense, the film actually relies heavily on spectacle through the dogs. They are trained and handled brilliantly throughout Hagen’s story, such as in his escape from animal control, his exploitation in the world of illegal dog-fighting and his breakout from the pound. The scenes are truly incredible to watch at times, with a sea of dogs pervading the streets in their breakout, as well as their attacks on those who earlier wronged Hagen which play with different genres quite nicely. 

            However, behind the glossiness of these stunning visuals actually lies quite a bland and stereotypical narrative. In terms of Lili’s story for example, she takes a downward adolescent spiral upon losing the dog that’s entirely predictable; kicked out of her orchestra; involved with drugs; deterioration of an already tenuous relationship with her father, all of which could be so lazily lifted from any Hollywood film about teenage strife. 

Furthermore, the lack of a true sense of Hungary shown, replaced instead with bland suburban areas, further removes the specificity of the story, which, coupled with the appropriation of the dog metaphor, raises an issue of what exactly the difference is between a Hollywood and a modern festival film. Though the festival film is, if we are to believe taste formatters and cultural institutions, supposed to be a higher brow alternative to Hollywood, it seems in the modern day their formulaic natures are indistinguishable. There is clearly a difference, but as time passes and the sector continues rapidly commercialising, it won’t be one worth shouting about.