QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM CANNES

Avril is a lawyer with a subpar track record, so her boss demands that she get him a winning case. As it happens, the following one is anything but: it’s the plea from a dog owner, requesting that the justice system take pity on the pet and spare their life. Under Swiss law, a canine caught biting humans on three occasions must be put to sleep. Intrigued by the proposition, Avril agrees to take the trial to court. The first criminal defence of this nature since the Middle Ages, Avril’s work gains traction across the political spectrum, and the media.

Inspired in part by real-life events, Dog on Trial plays it mostly for laughs. A heightened picture of farcical proportions, the movie proves to be anything but subtle in its execution. Director Laetitia Dosch plays the lead role, bringing the sort of heroic gumption and ballast nominally seen in straight-laced courtroom dramas a la 12 Angry Men (Sidney Lumet, 1957); Mathieu Demy’s Judge plays up the comedic set-ups with pious, semi-pantomime seriousness; and Anne Doval co-stars in the comedy drama, clearly enjoying the chance to feature as the Hollywoodesque villain: Roseline Bruckenheimer. Bruckenheimer is running for politics, using this case as her leap into stardom. In one almost blinding monologue, Bruckenheimer lets out years of anger, equating the canine’s actions to the antics favoured by a serial criminal.

Dog On Trial is not a dumb film, and asks some genuinely pertinent questions about Western society. It takes a psychiatrist, a pastor and a rabbi to determine the depths of havoc Cosmos – the pooch in question – is happy to wreak. The integrity is sullied by an unfortunate “castration” gag, leading one of the witnesses to place their hands on the animal’s penis. Faeces feature later in the story; unnecessarily visceral in its design.

Some silly sight gags notwithstanding, Dog On Trial makes for surprisingly family-friendly viewing. Dosch jumps comfortably between her roles , actor and director, bringing an energy largely matched by the ensemble. Doval is a hoot to watch in action: her impish Bruckenheimer takes this moment for political gain, leading to raucous rallies calling for the hound’s slaughter. Demy strikes the correct tone portraying the gruff, no-nonsense workaholic: only François Damiens seems badly cast as the impish Dariuch Michovski, the sad man who brought the challenge to Avril’s doorstep.

Her determination to fight across from another member of the female sex makes April an unpopular person in some parts of Switzerland. On the opposite side of the fence, the court is swamped with vegetarian activists who pity the biscuit-loving companion: a modern-day martyr. Things take a bump when Avril realises that her client may have attacked the victim precisely because of the gender in question; evidence presented in court shows that dogs are less frightened of men because of their “posture”.

Despite the comic exhibits, Dosch never loses sight of the serious undertones. Alongside the trial comes a cause far closer to Avril’s home. Her child neighbour is being beaten by his parents, prompting her to consider alerting the appropriate authorities. While dealing with this matter, Avril realises how devastating the dog’s death will be to her, both as a professional and a person. Yet if she can establish a precedent, it could make for a better future regarding animal welfare.

Dog on Trial is not perfect. There are too many gags meant for shock value, some plot points fail to arrive at their expected destination, and one scene between Avril and a male bedroom partner feels out of place in this cherubic work. But at the core comes a film about justice for everyone; even those who are that bit fluffier.

Dog on Trial is showing in the Un Certain Regard section of the 77th Cannes International Film Festival.