Lang (Eddie Peng) returns to town, fresh out of prison. Once a local celebrity and musician, the ex-con is now received with varying levels of scorn and disgrace by the community, but none moreso than Butcher Hu, a local don-type. Though once powerful, Hu’s control has diminished near entirely, one of many symptoms of the old world being forgotten. Nonetheless, he retains a particular grudge over the murder of his nephew, for which Lang was sentenced.

In order to reintegrate, Lang is assigned to the stray dog squad, a local government taskforce employed to clean up the city ahead of the 2008 olympics. Lang’s silent refusal to repent or lower himself in the eyes of others prevents him from making any friends. When he’s bitten by Xin, the titular dog, Lang retreats further into solitude, waiting for rabies and eventual death. Neither eventuates, and what develops instead is a reluctant bond between the two outcasts. From that point on, the canine shadows Lang. Together, they attempt to reconcile the past city and the inevitably approaching of a future with no room for individualists.

All the while, citizens with better prospects elsewhere emigrate to the city, leaving the town behind. If this is sounding symbolic, you’d be right on the money – Black Dog is especially full of all the rock and roll imagery of lone seekers and industrialised alienation. Black Dog wears this heritage proudly on its sleeve, to ground a film that can at times feel too universal. The final eclipse sequence is the most enigmatically psychedelic, and sticks the landing after a third act that begins to meander.

The visuals and soundtrack take every opportunity to emphasise emotion over realism, but don’t feel overbearing. The imagery of the mountains and empty expanse that surround the town are particularly striking. Black Dog’s setting carries a kind of gothic emptiness without ever becoming melancholy - it’s an interesting balance, even if slightly distracting. Overall, Black Dog is well worth a watch!

3 out of 5 stars