Pariah Dog: Haunting and even poetic portrait of the street dogs of Kolkata is a must for animal lovers

By Liam Lacey

Rating: B-plus

First-time director Jesse Alk’s poetic documentary, Pariah Dog, about the street dogs of Kolkata, is a film that could have been inspired by the nineteenth-century French poet, Charles Baudelaire, in Paris Spleen, who wrote of street dogs as his muses:

“I sing the mangy dog, the pitiful, the homeless dog, the roving dog, Baudelaire wrote. “I sing the luckless dog who wanders alone through the winding ravines of huge cities, or the one who blinks up at some poor outcast of society with his soulful eyes, as much as to say, ‘Take me with you, and out of our joint misery, we will make a kind of happiness.’”

Aspiring entertainer Subrata, tending to some of the 80,000 street dogs in Kolkata, India in Pariah Dog.

Aspiring entertainer Subrata, tending to some of the 80,000 street dogs in Kolkata, India in Pariah Dog.

Beautifully shot, largely at night under the velvety glow of street lights, this is a dreamlike portrait of the city of Kolkata (formerly Calcutta), with its old colonial architecture, bustling commercial areas with hip young couples, waterfront and slums, where a goat herd at night might cross paths with an Uber driver, and homeless people pile up under cardboard in doorways. 

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And everywhere, especially in the poorer areas, there are stray dogs, estimated at more than 80,000, in a city of more than fourteen million.

An early scene suggests an urban show-down - from West Side Story, or a Springsteen song, but performed entirely by dogs. In the evening streets of Kolkata, we meet a medium-sized brown dog with erect ears and a curvy tail. He tips back his head and makes a combination of a groan and howl, either a declaration of loneliness or an announcement of his territorial domain.  

A half block away, a pack of five dogs, busy playing, humping and generally surveying the territory, turn about to face him and begin barking and moving forward. The howling dog retreats, then turns and faces the pack again. The entire display is a kind of mime show, of mixed rejection and defiance.

Although Pariah Dog bears some relationship to the celebrated 2016 cat movie, Kedi, about the daily lives of seven feral cats in Istanbul, Pariah Dog is, in fact, not so much interested in the dogs themselves as it is with people who care about them. The focus is on four humans who not only care for and advocate for the street dogs, but clearly identify with the animals’ outsider status, loneliness and suffering. Their bonds with stray dogs are the most important relationships of their lives.

“These animals are so trusting,” says one, “They don’t realize how human beings can destroy them and destroy other human beings as well.”

Two of these dog advocates are single, middle-aged men who, are artists of a kind: Pinku makes small wooden sculptures, but works as a taxi driver at night to pay his bills. As well as a dozen or so dogs, he cares for a parrot, rabbit, and monkey in his one-room house. Subrata is also a driver, an aspiring entertainer and musician who, years ago, appeared on a game show. He spends his time off-work picking up waste food from restaurants to feed to dogs. Now in his sixties, he’s pretty sure he’s “past his expiry date,” though his friend at a tea shop assures him he’s just hitting his stride.

There are two women, Milly and Kajal, who work together. Milly, a once-wealthy educated woman, who is partly of Japanese-Russian descent, lives in a large home which she inherited. She notes that her land is being encroached on by squatters and (according to her) corrupt city officials. 

Milly’s young unpaid assistant Kajal lives in a tiny hut, itself no bigger than a dog’s house. Kajal refuses to do paid maid work because of her preference for caring for dogs, though she says she has no vision of her future. The imperious Milly and stubborn Kajal quarrel and reconcile.  In their different ways, they share a love, and identification with the various diseased, starving and disabled dogs who they treat, vaccinate and nurse through their deaths.

Once the characters, their lifestyles and hopes and complaints are introduced, Pariah Dog becomes somewhat repetitive. (I could have used more scenes like the opening stand-off, of dog dramas performed without their human helpers.). 

There are a couple of digressions that expand its brief running 77-minute running time, as well as other sides of city and the characters: Subrata, pursuing his showbiz dreams, buys an electronic keyboard and records a song celebrating his love of humans, animals and plants. Milly takes Majal on a rowboat ride, an idyllic interlude far from the crowded streets, and the dogs waiting for their return.

Pariah Dog. Directed by Jesse Alk. Written by Jesse Alk and Koustay Sinha. With Kajal, Pinku, Milly and Subrata. Available on Apple TV, Prime Video and other streaming services.