Eight Below

Maybe Disney has learned a few things. Then again, maybe not. Attempting perhaps to cash in on the success of their Buena Vista release “Snow Dogs” (2002), Disney treats us to another movie about sled dogs. This time, the story takes place in Antarctica, where the National Science Foundation’s expeditionary team is aided by Gerry Shepherd (Paul Walker) and his eight sled dogs.

Shepherd is chartered by an NSF scientist, Dr. McLaren (Bruce Greenwood), to make a treacherous journey to Mt. Melbourne, to recover what may be the first meteorite specimens from the planet Mercury. The weather is less than optimal, on the cusp of a long winter, but Gerry’s boss, Dr. Harrington (Gerard Plunkett), insists they risk their and the dogs’ lives. They return after McLaren breaks his leg, falling through ice into the frigid waters. He’s rescued and pulled to safety by the sled dogs. They make their way back to the base just before two massive low-pressure fronts hit.

When the team is evacuated from the base station due to “the worst storm in 25 years” the sled dogs are left behind. It’s always “the worst storm in 25 years” or some other double-digit number that studios figure works well with audiences whose capacity for appreciating plot and character development beyond monochromatic templates is, I believe, vastly underestimated. For example, Shepherd, the expeditionist, naturally lives like Martin Riggs, in a mobile home by the lake. Later, when necessary, the wise Native American mentor from whom the protagonist needs convincing is carted out into view just when Gerry’s about to give up hope.

However, there are areas that in which I’m somewhat impressed. First of all, the dogs don’t have human voice-overs and, thankfully, there isn’t any god-awful CG used to animate their mouths. They are, in fact, extremely well trained actors. Perhaps better trained than some of the actors in this film. The problem is, the film keeps going back to the human actors.

I know it’s not easily possible to make a story about returning to get your beloved dogs if you don’t feature the humans at all, but I think it would have been possible to keep a continuous focus on the dogs until toward the very end. There are a few reasons why I believe this. First, I didn’t see any children bored at all when the story shifted away from the humans to dwell solely on the dogs and how far their survival instincts take them. Second, the viewer would really have a better sense of the time spent away from humans if the story didn’t keep cutting back over to the humans every fifteen minutes. Third, the dogs are the only compelling talent in this film.

It’s one thing to see one Hollywood dog performing on cue, but to see a team of eight “acting” in concert is entirely something else. Surely, some editing shapes the unfolding story of the dogs’ struggle to make it through the Antarctic winter, but some shots require three or more dogs performing together at the same time. Even more incredible is, perhaps, the story of two of the dogs—Troika and Nikki—both found in poor health and rehabilitated by an organization called Sleddog Rescue. A post on the Internet Movie Database message boards pointed this out, for which I am grateful. Troika was found as a stray in poor health and Nikki was the unfortunate victim of a puppy mill. Their story seemed like great material for a more intriguing and genuinely endearing film than the manufactured texture of the characters and dilemmas in “Eight Below.”

Not one human character is particularly interesting, so why have a film with them in it? Well, the answer lies in the fact that this film’s plot is, like many Disney films, cribbed from another source (the difference being that, for the first time that I am aware, Disney actually credited the source). In this case, the film that we are told in the beginning moments is “inspired by true events”—an utterly meaningless phrase—is itself derived from Koreyoshi Kurahara’s film “Nankyoku Monogatari.”

That film, released outside Japan as “Antarctica,” had, among other things, the advantage of featuring a haunting score by the Greek composer Vangelis. By contrast, this movie’s score, composed by Mark Isham, doesn’t reflect any unique majesty or subtlety. At times, you wish Isham’s would put the bombastic stock adventurer music on pause so that we could take in the vast landscapes and the escapades of the extremely talented canine cast.

Sure, it’s not quite true to life… the dogs do often seem to be mimicking human behaviors. Such choreographed anthropomorphization is often expected for family films featuring dogs as the stars. However, there are a few charming moments with Jack, Maya, Max, Shadow, Dewey, Truman (who bit Dewey), Shorty and Buck.

It requires a lot of skill for these dogs to work together in scenes where they communicate with one another while hunting, or when they look after their injured, Dewey, who falls down the side of a steep slope. They operate like a pack — Maya is their Alpha female. When Maya is hurt, the pack rallies around her, bringing her the catch from their hunt so, as is the case in wolf packs, as alpha she has first pick before any others eat.

It’s rather marvelous to ponder the skill these dogs have at being able to reproduce precisely the kind of behavior that the set wrangler requires of them for any given scene. But in the end, these Pavlovian tricks still fail to completely usurp all your affections precisely because we know, sled dogs or not, we’re watching trained behaviors. Then again, how do I know the dogs aren’t simply cooperating in ways real sled dogs would have extrapolated from rigorous sled training in a similar situation?

Still, I prefer seeing the untrained communication and habits of dogs and their wild cousins, wolves. There’s something to be said for witnessing feral intelligence in action.

Speaking of things feral, a much better work residing in Disney’s repertoire is the 1983 film “Never Cry Wolf,” an adaptation of the book by Farley Mowat — an account of his experiences observing wolves in the wild. Directed by Carroll Ballard, Mowat’s experience surveying wolves was carried out with a patient, contemplative fascination leaning more toward Terrence Malick’s lingering gazes upon nature. Today’s nature scenes are often hurried along and cut together with maddeningly oversaturated, swelling scores.

“Eight Below” works as a children’s film. It’s certain to keep young kids (EDIT: and possibly dog lovers) engaged and, as I said, it would have even worked if it spent all but the beginning and ending focusing on the dogs. While the banality of stock characters and cliché plot devices may distract the adult viewer from a truly enjoyable experience, kids aren’t going to really notice these things. “Eight Below” is probably a better film than Disney has made in a long time, which still isn’t saying much.

Eight Below • Dolby® Digital surround sound in select theatres • Running Time: 120 minutes • MPAA Rating: PG for some peril and brief mild language. • Distributed by Buena Vista Pictures