In the opening moments of Edward D. Wood Jr.’s “Plan 9 From Outer Space” — and if you think referencing this film in the first sentence is a bad sign, you’re ahead of me — the notoriously inaccurate fortuneteller Criswell said, “We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives.”
Wrong again, Criswell. I may have to spend the rest of my life in the future, but after watching Ridley Scott’s “The Dog Stars,” I no longer have any interest.
“The Dog Stars” takes place about a decade into the future, after a deadly strain of the flu killed almost everyone in America, or at least in Colorado. Denver is a graveyard — but even though there are survivors they’ve done a shockingly bad job of scavenging the place. There’s Sprite everywhere. Delicious, delicious Sprite. The only surviving family of Mennonites are quick to declare that Sprite is their favorite. Thank god for Sprite. Literally.
Jacob Elordi plays Hig. He pilots a Cessna around town with his pet dog Jasper and an apparent unlimited supply of gasoline. They’ve also got an unlimited supply of guns and ammunition. And they’ve got Bangley, a gruff macho man played by Josh Brolin, acts like a “Call of Duty: Modern Warfare” enthusiast who finally got to live out his lifelong fantasies of being violent and miserable.
After Hig hears a mysterious radio signal from Grand Junction, and after he suffers one last tragedy, he decides to get in his plane and investigate. His journey leads him to a rancher named Pops, played by Guy Pearce, and his daughter Cima, played by Margaret Qualley. Hig and Cima will fall … well, not “in love,” but into convenience. They’re age-appropriate and attractive and there’s no one else in Colorado who isn’t a blood relative or part of a bloodthirsty, mindless mob so look, beggars can’t be choosers.
Scott’s post-apocalyptic America is a mundane hodgepodge of characters and situations we’ve seen countless times in superior films, TV shows, comic books and video games. His film is a dreary, pompous neo-Western where all heroes are rugged, mournful, bedraggled men, constantly droning about what life is like “in this world” because there’s no one left to call out their navel gazing. Also, most of the villains wear face paint, ride horses, wear Mohawks, don’t speak English and attack peaceful frontier settlements while hooting and hollering like wild animals. I guess Sprite wasn’t the only American staple that survived the end of the world. Racist tropes are also thriving.
Sexism is also still kicking around like a cockroach. We know the film’s most feminine character is evil because when she learns Cima is a doctor, she treats Cima like communal property that Hig hand-delivered to her like a 12-pack of Sprite. Later, another character proves he’s a good man because after he finds out Cima is a doctor, he politely thanks Hig for bringing her to his community as a valuable resource. He doesn’t thank Cima, just Hig. You stay classy, “The Dog Stars.” You stay real classy.
Most of the film rests of Elordi’s shoulders, and that’s a shame because he’s carrying so much sadness there’s no room for anything else — no humor, romance, complexity, charisma or personality. Elordi has the posture of a movie star but he’s either been typecast as Hollywood’s saddest boy for too long or he’s already found the limits of his range. Elordi was sad and undead in Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein,” he was sad and horny in Emerald Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights,” and now in “The Dog Stars” he’s sad and even more sad.
Post-apocalyptic movies don’t have to be action-packed thrill rides. They don’t have to be scary either. They can be serious, pensive dramas about what we’ve lost, what we value, and why humanity persists in the face of overwhelming obstacles. But it turns out they can also be listless time sucks that constantly remind us we could be playing “Fallout” instead, or watching “Fallout” instead, or at least drinking a 12-pack of refreshing Sprite.
“The Dog Stars” is another low point for Scott. He’s a cinematic stylist with notoriously inconsistent taste in scripts. Give him a great tale and he’ll film the hell out of it and make it better. Give him a bad one and he’ll still film the hell out of it but it’ll still be bad. There are way too many faults in these “Stars.” Woof.
