David Ayer makes rugged films. Following a duo of movies that let Jason Statham unleash his compelling set of skills, Heart of the Beast re-teams the director with Brad Pitt, whom he last threw into WWII with Shia LaBeouf and Jon Bernthal in 2014’s Fury—a rugged tank movie.
On the other side of the camera, Brad Pitt is enjoying a purple patch. After the enjoyably formulaic F1 ticked a lot of adrenaline-fuelled comeback boxes, in late autumn he’ll steal top billing for the sequel to Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. In between, what better than some quality time spent with his dog.
Heart of the Beast doesn’t want to break the format its lean pitch suggests. This is a survival film through and through, following Special Forces veteran James Belmont and Odin on an arduous hike across unforgiving Alaskan landscape after their plane crashes. There’s little else to the plot—it even restricts other characters to its first and last acts. On the long hike back to civilisation, threats and obstacles pop up throughout, from spinning tree-trunk bridges and rock-strewn rapids to neck-high swamps and persistent predators. But this is about the journey, even more than the final, nicely-played outcome that might well have you wringing out your hankie.
If the idea of a hundred minutes watching a dog suffer doesn’t sound too appetising, don’t worry: Ayer doesn’t leave us in dog purgatory. He adamantly doesn’t want us worrying we’re hanging around to see Odin, the beautiful German Shepherd played by former police dog Uber, and three offspring, Seeka, Ryker, and Hondo (boy, these canines can act, Oscars!) come a cropper. So he dials down the dog peril radar a notch in the opening scene. That’s not to say it undermines the threat to survival. It’s a decision that succeeds in taking our eyes off the dog and onto the almost symbiotic bond between one lonely man and his dog.
Just as Odin carries a prosthetic leg, so Belmont sustains an arm injury. Both suffer PTSD from their time in service—over the film, the catastrophic event they’re dealing with becomes clear—leaving them with nightmares day and night. Belmont and Odin are a single entity, defined by their shared history. In the awe-inspiring landscape (New Zealand mostly standing in for Alaskan wilderness), it’s all about how that bond can find a place in the wider world.
While there’s an element of this being a put-Pitt-through-hell film—there’s a lot of falling, injury and grimacing as nature takes its brutal toll—it’s the time spent seeing that bond that makes Heart of the Beast an emotionally rich experience. This isn’t just for those who love to watch a dog; it’s for those who know what dogs can bring to a family, to a human, to a life.
When it comes to the threats, the CGI isn’t perfect. Some digital wildlife squidges softly in the frame and would be distracting if it didn’t hit the base level of doing the job. Animal VFX was always going to be an uphill struggle amid the mostly stunning picture. Ayers and cinematographer Mauro Fiore—who has form creating incredible, enthralling landscapes for Avatar— draw the most from a varied landscape. It’s only in a key moment that the hand slips on that dial and nature takes on a kaleidoscopic, fantasy feel. That may be too much or too little for some viewers, but otherwise, Ayers plays a strict and straight bat, succeeding in letting us gasp at every fall, and will every chance to save the day.
This call to nature, the relationships it inspires, and how those can be passed on to others, is worth it. It’s rugged. It’s heart-warming too.
Heart of the Beast is out now.
