Heart of a Dog

Director: Laurie Anderson

Musician Laurie Anderson returns to documentary film with Heart of a Dog; her poetic meditation on life, death, her dog Lolabelle and her mother. Her film isn't a documentary per se; it is more a stream of ruminations and observations about her life and sometimes the world. The film is like Anderson's music; offbeat, unpredictable and sometimes strange. Lovely images supplement her narration; which has a trance-like quality; she enunciates her words soothingly before they taper to a whispery end.

Anderson begins her film by telling us about a dream she had, which is recollected in animation. She is lying in a hospital bed when the doctor hands her a bundle we might think is a baby, only it isn't; it is her rat terrier Lolabelle. As if speaking to a human infant, Anderson tells the dog she will love it forever.

The fact that she introduces her dog is key. In her film, Lolabelle's perspective on the world is a source of fascination for Anderson. In relating Lolabelle's first encounter with birds of prey, who abort their attack when they see she is an unwieldy target, Anderson observes that her dog first became aware of the world above her. One can't help but think Anderson is commenting on human consciousness; our inability to be fully aware of another reality.

In between remembrances and observations; beautiful images, real and animated, play on the screen. Her thoughts take us different places. Cogitations on death give way to ideas about how language defines our reality, which is attended by a quote from Wittgenstein. Later Anderson reflects on her past when she tries to remember a moment when she felt her mother's unconditional love. The memory involves a harrowing incident where she very nearly caused her twin brother's drownings.

Another observation is about how soldiers suddenly became omnipresent in airports and public life after 9/11; a bewildering development that leads her to ask: "when did this happen?"
The death of a close friend and the subsequent sighting of his specter stimulates thoughts about ghosts. Anderson also shares a traumatic experience from her youth where, in showing off on a diving board, she inadvertently landed on concrete; breaking her back in the process. Told she would never walk again, she defied doctor's expectations, which leads to her to believe "adults didn't know what they were talking about."

A film like Heart of a Dog has an amorphous, narrative structure. The film goes where Anderson's mind takes her--and us--and it's a wonderful, dream-like journey.

Anderson wrote and directed the film but also provided the soundtrack, which serves the images well. I'm not entirely sure what Anderson wants us to take away from the film but for me her cerebral wanderings were enough. What I saw seemed like an essay with lyrical asides and abstract diversions. Such a film can hardly be everyone's cup of tea, but I enjoyed it and I appreciate her artistic objective. One might not expect a documentary that begins with a dream about a dog to go places Heart of a Dog goes, which is one of its wondrous surprises. In it, Anderson is a poet, a scientist, a musician, a philosopher and a dog-lover. How often does a filmmaker wear so many hats in one film?