QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM TALLINN
Fifteen-year-old Gabo (Carlo Krammling) is in an online chat room. An answer to a question elicits a grateful and hopeful sigh of relief. All we know is he’s arranging to meet someone with “the same condition” as himself. Gabo is referring to his sexual fantasies of children, which he knows are wrong, and he’s desperate to find someone that understands and can help him.
Instead of calling a phone-line support service or a prevention programme for help, he’s sat in a café with an iced coffee, where he’s going to meet David (Robin Sondermann), an older man. Dissuading Gabo from reaching out to other sources of support, David isolates the youngster and begins grooming him. When David is accused of statutory rape, Gabo must choose between protecting David or exposing his own secrets.
There are few subjects that would be considered tougher or more provocative than the one chosen here by first-time feature director Steve Bache. Sadly, No Dogs Allowed is premature for both its director and screenwriter, Stephan Kämpf. Technically and narratively, it’s a well-made film. Cinema, however, is more than the physical body – it’s the heart and the mind, even the soul. No Dogs Allowed is missing the latter because it lacks the will to engage its subject, and in fact, it’s surprisingly passive. Bache and Kämpf focus on the form but are unable to communicate with the audience through themes and ideas.
The approach positions the audience as passive participants – a grave error. Nicole Kassell’s The Woodsman (2004) creates a richly complex portrayal of child molester Walter (Kevin Bacon), that leans into themes of accountability, forgiveness and redemption. And it explores the difficulty for someone convicted of a sex crime to move on from their past. Meanwhile, Jamie Dack’s Palm Trees and Power Lines (2022) is about a 17-year-old being groomed by a man twice her age and offers a visceral snapshot of how difficult it is for a victim to escape their abuser.
In comparison to the thematic and conversational identity of Kassell and Dack’s films, No Dogs Allowed struggles to follow their example and develop the psychology of its narrative and characters. Why? Because it is a presentation of character, the premise of good and evil, innocence and guilt. This passive type of storytelling prioritises the plot. It cannot empower an audience to go further in their interrogation of the film’s psychology because the groundwork, including the subtle communication through body language, has not been laid out. Beneath the surface of the story lies a rich psychology, with urgent questions to understand such as why a 15-year-old has these sexual impulses?
The way the filmmakers build their thriller around an adolescent’s errors in judgement that have incarcerated him in a self-made prison, is particularly effective. There is the presence of something more nuanced here that could take the audience deeper into the film. Especially as Bache and Kämpf recognise that their film is about the unspoken truths that linger in our silence and fear of vulnerability. And they identify the causes of this, like in the tense moment between mother and son outside the police station. Gabo says, “If you want to help me, then just listen.” His mother replies, “Alright. I’ll shut up and listen. What do you want to tell me?” This single moment addresses the complicity of the breakdown in communication, and like in Palm Trees and Power Lines, not feeling loved, heard or seen can be critical factors in ill-advised judgement.
There are moments when No Dogs Allowed is on the cusp of beginning to create a deeper thematic conversation, like in the above scene. But what ultimately prevents the film from reaching its full potential are the narrative choices towards the end.
No Dogs Allowed just premiered in the First Feature Competition of the 28th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.