The dog in Heart of the Beast is a very good dog, indeed, and that, more than anything else (or, unfortunately, deeper), is the overarching message of director David Ayer’s film. The simplicity of this entire thing is simultaneously refreshing and frustrating: A man and his dog escape to the wilds of an Alaskan forest for some rest and relaxation, and then, their plane crash-lands more than 50 miles from any nearby sign of civilization. This is refreshing because, of course, survivalist dramas shouldn’t load up on too many complications or contrivances to further the drama that exists right there on the surface.
It is also frustrating, though, because there doesn’t seem to be any sort of layer beneath this survival scenario and what it immediately says about James Belmont (Brad Pitt), his dog Odin (played by four canine performers, though primarily one named Uber) or the journey they now must make together on foot. We acknowledge the basic humanity of the main character, and we definitely acknowledge the good-boyness of his friend and fellow veteran of the war in the Middle East. If that was all any given movie needed to do, we’d be in a good spot, especially because Ayer stages and executes several tense action sequences with aplomb.
The first one is the crash, of course, that sets everything in motion. James, a retired Army Special Forces officer who lost his entire platoon except for Odin (as revealed in a series of jagged and fragmented PTSD nightmares that are basically just here to impart information), has a heart attack mid-flight. Odin is ejected but survives, and he and James, still suffering an extended cardiac event for the next hour or so, must rally to travel the 58 miles to a road where they might find some transportation.
That is genuinely the extent of the plot of Cameron Alexander’s screenplay, which also provides brief glimpses into humanity (and excuses for more exposition) via a pair of fellow humans. One of them is played by J.K. Simmons, who shows up for a single scene as Watkins, a fellow traveler who learns—as we do—that Odin was twice attacked by the other side of the Middle-East conflict. For that, he was left with a prosthetic in place of his front right paw and titanium implants in place of a few of his front teeth.
Those will obviously become assets along the perilous journey, through a thick forest and over rough terrain, toward the road that is their salvation. We get to see the teeth in action during a wolf attack that, unfortunately for Ayer, is slightly undone by some imprecise visual effects (these are also apparent during a run-in with a bear, though that might paradoxically be one of the film’s most potent moments, as it loses a staring contest with Odin). We also get to see what the effects of PTSD might look like in a canine, which is honestly one of the more upsetting elements of an occasionally harrowing movie: Odin’s little squeals of discomfort and barks of painful memory, perhaps unaware of why he’s experiencing such a thing, are harrowing in their own way, separate from the harshness of the journey.
In other ways, too, the film does communicate this human-canine relationship fairly well, as in a moment involving a broken arm that will undoubtedly inspire some sympathetic response in the audience. That might be a quieter scene, but there’s also a much louder one—a terrifying drop from a makeshift bridge into the rapids below, which delivers the majority of James’ injuries. There’s also the matter of the film’s final scenes, where the second human character (played by Anna Lambe) arrives as part of the intended catharsis.
These final scenes, without giving too much away, do tie a nice and even moving bow on the central relationship, but the whole of Heart of the Beast struggles to give us more than that simple idea, an array of set pieces that put survival to the test, and a general appreciation for the stardom of its two lead performers. The film is a skillful one, but it’s also a slightly hollow mixed bag of emotional payoffs with a little too little to connect them.
Rating: **½ (out of ****)
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