'Dogs in Space' pretty much seems to have disappeared over the years. My widescreen copy was taped off Channel 4 in the early 90's, and I'm pretty sure this was the last British terrestrial screening. Which is a real shame, because its a fantastic film. Written and directed by Richard Lowenstein, maker of the excellent 'Strikebound' and promos for INXS and U2, its an apparently semi-autobiographical piece about the various dwellers of, and visitors to, a rather decrepit squat in late 70's Melbourne.
For those who might be put off by Lowenstein's corporate rock pedigree, fear not. The film avoids modish stylisation in favour of a rather free-wheeling, Altmanesque approach to construction and character development. The viewer is left to decipher dialogue and make connections for themselves.
The piece is beautifully photographed and edited, and makes wonderful use of the 'steadicam' camera mount. Only at the very end does Lowenstein indulge himself in promo-style picture-making to sell the tie-in single 'Rooms for the memory'. And presumably give his otherwise pretty uncompromising vision some commercial lustre.
As with Altman's best work, the guiding hand is detached but compassionate. The characters are all fiercely idiosyncratic individuals, often infuriating and shallow. But they are never mocked. Instead we see that their silliness is often merely a result of an attempt to either forge uniqueness or merely belong, and as such it often attains a strange nobility.
At the films heart, though, lies a discernible disillusionment with, and subtle but pointed criticism of, the reality of the 'punk revolution'. Its most voluble proponents are shown to be either mouthpiece middle class drop-outs or confused, neglected teenagers. And its socio-political effect negligible.
Michael Hutchence's presence (again, presumably largely a commercial consideration) is rather subversively integrated into this schema. He is cast as a pretty but vain, self-obsessed and generally unlikeable singer Sam, whose outwardly anarchistic stance barely conceals a ruthless careerism. Sam is also witty illustration of the fact that punk inevitably existed off the graces of the bourgeois. He has his mother turn up at the squat with a freshly cooked meal and clean clothes while all the other residents are out. Again, though, the effect is wry rather than bile-drenched.
'Dogs' is well-acted by a cast of mostly never-heard-from-agains. The ubiquitous but brilliant Chris Haywood appears briefly to deliver a heartfelt eulogy to a chainsaw. It employs an excellent soundtrack, and special note should be made of the remarkable sound-mix.
It's an evocative, atmospheric snapshot of a sub-culture founded on both vainglorious naivete and admirable, rebellious individuality.
Deserves a deluxe, restored, fully stereophonic, all-bells-and-whistles DVD at the very least.
For those who might be put off by Lowenstein's corporate rock pedigree, fear not. The film avoids modish stylisation in favour of a rather free-wheeling, Altmanesque approach to construction and character development. The viewer is left to decipher dialogue and make connections for themselves.
The piece is beautifully photographed and edited, and makes wonderful use of the 'steadicam' camera mount. Only at the very end does Lowenstein indulge himself in promo-style picture-making to sell the tie-in single 'Rooms for the memory'. And presumably give his otherwise pretty uncompromising vision some commercial lustre.
As with Altman's best work, the guiding hand is detached but compassionate. The characters are all fiercely idiosyncratic individuals, often infuriating and shallow. But they are never mocked. Instead we see that their silliness is often merely a result of an attempt to either forge uniqueness or merely belong, and as such it often attains a strange nobility.
At the films heart, though, lies a discernible disillusionment with, and subtle but pointed criticism of, the reality of the 'punk revolution'. Its most voluble proponents are shown to be either mouthpiece middle class drop-outs or confused, neglected teenagers. And its socio-political effect negligible.
Michael Hutchence's presence (again, presumably largely a commercial consideration) is rather subversively integrated into this schema. He is cast as a pretty but vain, self-obsessed and generally unlikeable singer Sam, whose outwardly anarchistic stance barely conceals a ruthless careerism. Sam is also witty illustration of the fact that punk inevitably existed off the graces of the bourgeois. He has his mother turn up at the squat with a freshly cooked meal and clean clothes while all the other residents are out. Again, though, the effect is wry rather than bile-drenched.
'Dogs' is well-acted by a cast of mostly never-heard-from-agains. The ubiquitous but brilliant Chris Haywood appears briefly to deliver a heartfelt eulogy to a chainsaw. It employs an excellent soundtrack, and special note should be made of the remarkable sound-mix.
It's an evocative, atmospheric snapshot of a sub-culture founded on both vainglorious naivete and admirable, rebellious individuality.
Deserves a deluxe, restored, fully stereophonic, all-bells-and-whistles DVD at the very least.