I know what you’re thinking: “A documentary where a woman talks about her dog? How is this not the #1 film in the country?” Well, somehow it eluded that distinction. In the opening scene, writer/director Laurie Anderson narrates a dream over soft charcoal animation in which she describes giving birth to her dog. I’m pretty sure my review could end right here. I mean, you already have enough to know whether or not you’d see this film, yes? Good.
The core in Heart of a Dog is Ms. Anderson’s relationship with her lovable rat terrier Lolabelle, deceased two years previous. There are several scenes obviously shot from a dog cam, which is kind of interesting as dogs are a lot lower to the ground. Laurie even points out the moment where Lolabelle discovered a third dimension 
(the sky!) and was forever changed by the experience.
There is little in this film that isn’t combination b-roll and narrative. Don’t look for plot; don’t look for dialogue; don’t look for conflict. Laurie Anderson uses the base of her love for Lolabelle to explore her own philosophy, tossing in a dose of Ludwig Wittgenstein, Søren Kierkegaard or David Foster Wallace where appropriate. The film roams from thought-to-thought, from philosophy-to-philosophy, while the background changes scenery from pond to forest to road to home movie. The surface-level lack of structure and willingness to leap reminded me of Richard Linklater’s Waking Life – but I’m guessing you haven’t seen that either, so, geez Jim, what was the point of that comment? The most poignant moments in Heart of a Dog are two shocking memories relayed in vividly descriptive detail. Neither of these has anything to do with a dog.
You may never find a more perfect film to nap to. Understated, quiet … a screen filled with images of driving in the rain or a winter forest saturated with snowfall. Occasionally, these pictures are spliced with muted animation, hospital rooms and gentle dated scenes of ice skating on frozen ponds … all with a calm narrative voice-over of a woman who has lost her dog and decided to tell the world about it in the most abstract terms possible. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are quality naps to be had in the Twilight franchise, and full-blown beauty slumbers in any Transformers film. Don’t even get me started on the latter. Heart of a Dog, however, allows for that gentle nap, the narrative washing over you, the words deliberately thoughtful, just enough to overtax a tired mind. The tone is calm and consistent. Sure, Transformers or Twilight might allow for a deep coma-like sleep, but there’s no chance Heart of a Dog will wake you with a scream or an explosion.
Laurie lost her beloved pet terrier
And found her world a bit scarier
Indulging in rhyme
Perhaps next time
She can escape that tricky “plot” barrier
Not Rated, 75 Minutes
D: Laurie Anderson
W: Laurie Anderson
Genre: Artsy art art fartsy art I-miss-my-dog
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Dog lovers
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Linear thinkers
