At times, expos‚s of modern suburban anomie (see: Ghost World, the entire canon of Todd Solondz) can inspire us to look deep into our own lives and contemplate just what tools the media-corporate complex has made us as a collective. Others attempt far less of a socio-political commentary; they seek to entertain us via empathy, rather than to aggravate the so-called "culture wars."
Writer-director Mike White's Year of the Dog falls definitively into the latter category. His film comprises a few months in the life of the animal-obsessed Peggy Spade (Molly Shannon), who finds greater solace in the company of animals than in the various men in whom she attempts to find interest (John C. Reilly, Peter Sarsgaard). As Peggy becomes increasingly disenchanted with human beings, the intensity of her devotion to four-legged friends grows to dangerous proportions.
Shannon plays the pathologically perky, large-gummed Peggy with aplomb, and her descent into emotional infirmity is - surprisingly - largely believable. The supporting cast provides a nice revival of the Office Space stock characters, with a priggish boss (Josh Pais) and quirky co-workers. Sarsgaard's Newt, a vegan, celibate pet social worker, is clearly the most layered supporting character - and not only as a function of the writing. Indeed, the script envisions itself more as a platform for the film's talented players: human, canine, avian, and porcine, among others. This leads to an often hilarious, sometimes disturbing, and ultimately touching commentary on what exactly love (both an excess and a lack thereof) can mean to individuals and how society can undervalue the very diffuseness of that definition. Life in corporate America and its attendant bedroom communities is often dog-eat-dog, and Year of the Dog demonstrates that without someone of some species to love, such a world is nothing more than a concrete jungle.
