There are a lot of interesting things going on in White
God. It’s the coming of age story of a
young girl in Budapest who has to work out her changing relationships with her
estranged father and her friends. It’s
the story of a dog that is separated from his owner and goes on an Oliver Twist
odyssey. It’s a parable of the immigrant/native
strife that is becoming so apparent in Europe.
It’s a revenge tale, and it’s a horror story. And it has some tremendous shots of packs of
dogs running amok in the Hapsburg streets of the city.
What director Kornél Mundruczó doesn’t bring here is a
fleshed-out unity among all these elements.
Hagan, the dog, is the most well-rounded character of the film. He goes from a happy pet to a
vengeful terrorist leader via a terrible arc that includes betrayal, abuse and
drugs. What an outstanding work this
film would have been if Mundruczó had been able to bend the arc of Lili so the
two characters intersected and complemented each other. However, the director is willing to let Zsófia
Psotta give us a one-dimensional Lili who strikes a similar note whether she is
looking for her dog, playing in the orchestra or going to nightclub. Lili is a surface that lacks interior, and we
can hardly accept the changes she walks through because her on-screen
impenetrability tells us nothing of her internal processes. Because of this
weakness in the central character, it’s hard to see the ending of White God,
when music tames the savage beast, as much beyond a strikingly beautiful cop out.
There are great moments of cinema here. The dogs running through the boulevards and
interiors of the city are exciting, evoking a feeling like that in parts of
Hitchcock’s The Birds, when everyday, innocent animals suddenly become a
menace. The civilized but visceral
opening of the film sets a tone that prepares us for much of the violence to
follow. too. And the concluding scene is an
image of beauty and reconciliation.
However, the uneven work that precedes this conclusion undercuts the
effect here, so although the concluding trumpet performance seems inevitable, it lacks
significance. It’s a pity that so much
buildup and beauty comes to so little at the end.
