The Dog

A dark, brooding atmosphere underpins Danielle Baynes’ The Dog, a complex character study perfectly realised in a tight 12 minutes. The short follows a vet played excellently by Kate Walsh, who is struggling with the emotional burden of her job and the enormous expectations placed upon her. Baynes confronts a variety of challenging themes head-on in a unique and affecting way, delivering an empathetic and hopeful thesis which is still cognisant of a darker reality.

The Dog succeeds in putting the audience into a subjective space where they can empathise wholly with Walsh’s character from the start. It begins with the camera lingering on her face as she stares at her phone, the intense blue light uncomfortably illuminating an unemotional stare as she reads online reviews of her clinic from grieving ex-pet owners. Later, she attempts to regain composure in front of a bathroom sink, and the audience are given the opportunity to peek behind the curtain and see the emotional burden she is carrying entirely unmasked. It’s a testament to Walsh’s performance as well as Baynes’ direction in that so many thoughts and feelings are conveyed in these moments, hidden behind layers of worn down stoicism. A particular stand out is Justin Amankwah as Joe, a trainee vet who exudes warmth and kindness whilst also appearing convincingly hesitant in his role; he embodies an earnest quality that juxtaposes the lead vet’s exhaustion. Perhaps Walsh’s character was once like Joe, and his fate is to be worn down just as she is. Strong editing and sound design choices enhance the subjective experience as the vet is seemingly haunted by the sounds of dogs barking, hinting at some unspoken trauma that overwhelms her when she’s alone with her thoughts. It’s a compelling internal struggle, made all the more significant when externalised later in a scene that brings the underlurking horror to the surface.

Baynes presents the veterinary clinic with a sense of unease, tapping into elements from horror to create an eerie and upsetting tone. This is helped in great part thanks to cinematography by Stefan Duscio, who shoots the clinic with strong contrast and shadows. The sound design is deliberately oppressive throughout, giving the clinic a harsh soundscape. The dissonant sounds of buzzing, weeping, and whining fill the clinic halls with a depressing cacophony. The filmmakers have constructed an environment that feels entirely crushing, an exaggeration of a real veterinary clinic perhaps, but one that captures exactly how that environment feels to be in. The film is edited confidently and maintains this carefully constructed sense of atmosphere, even as the tone switches to being more dreamlike in a particular sequence. In this short scene, the lighting switches from the film’s usual colour palette towards colder, ghostly pale blue tones. It’s immediately understandable that something has shifted in the atmosphere when the vet finds herself face to face with the titular dog (voiced by Nicholas Hope). While the clinic felt absent of warmth before, this scene’s use of colour and shadow pushes the short into a much more emotionally chilling place. The effect is mesmerising, appropriately putting the characters and audience in an eerie and vulnerable space for the climax.

Baynes is clearly a confident filmmaker, and The Dog is a breathtaking short that viewers will find hard to shake. It’s a testament to the quality of the film that, while one could easily imagine it being expanded into a feature, its length is by no means a hindrance to the storytelling. Baynes presents challenging themes without pulling any punches, delivering a short that points the camera towards the carers in our society, who are so often not afforded the same care that they are expected to give.