‘You are on your own. “Nothing happens to men like us, because we live from day to day,” said a Chechen immigrant from homeless Syrian children in Istanbul. Astray. Rootless, nomadic hand-to-mouth existence is at the heart of director / producer / editor / filmmaker Elizabeth Lo’s documentary, but humans are merely the peripheral players in this amazing non-fiction investigation, which takes its look at some of the power train. dogs roaming the city streets. A Spiritual Companion for Ceyda Torun’s 2016 Kedi (relating to the legions of cats living in the same metropolis), Lo’s film reveals the secret life of dogs. In doing so, she draws stark parallels between their world and our own, and our shared desires for food, comfort, and companionship.
Following a 20de century in which authorities tried to exterminate the animals (leading to mass killings), widespread protests transformed the city into one of the few places on the planet where it is illegal to euthanize and imprison any stray dog - which means that on virtually every sidewalk, in every alley, and near every garbage can, dogs gather, search for food, scurry, crunch and try to survive. It’s an unromantic situation, though it’s not without its pleasures, and Lo’s camera constantly takes their perspective and maintains a low-to-the-ground position as he follows these pooches back and forth, on busy sidewalks where people barely give notice, across streets where cars stop to let them pass, and on beaches where they are free to run around, play around and roll around and occasionally in a turn at to turn unknown invaders.
Astray draws attention to a trio of dogs – starting with Zeytin, whose striking brown color and large, sad eyes are as expressive as her movements through Istanbul’s various districts are comfortable. With a sometimes meandering expression on her face and a right ear hanging slightly lower than her left, Zeytin is a resident of this urban landscape, just as comfortable on its well-paved sidewalks, in its parks along busy freeways and on fickle stretches hilly country adorned with giant rock outcrops and ruins of buildings whose columns still stand. Zeytin is confident that it is a perfect guide for this area, and also makes her popular with residents, many of whom know her by name. It includes a collection of young Syrian migrants living on the streets, and we learn, courtesy of random snippets of conversations, that they are known to sniff glue and that they are constantly being arrested by the authorities.
Zeytin will be linked soon Astray with friendly Nazar and black-and-white puppy Kartal, the latter of whom comes under the supervision of the Syrian children after begging a local man for one of his many errors, and he accepts by saying that they can return at night and steal one for themselves. The similarities between Istanbul’s dog and refugee populations are not difficult to see, and director Lo does not italicize or force such echoes, but allows them to emerge from the present procedure. Through the careful selection and aggregation of scenes, she analyzes the struggle of animals and children to exist, their territorial quarrels with others (whether with other dogs, or tourists and police who prefer to keep the streets free of homeless youth). and their craving for love – or, at the very least, a warm body to cuddle under a blanket at night.
Lo divides her film with text quotes about the nobility of dogs (mostly from the Greek philosopher Diogenes, about 300 BC), but otherwise the overt commentary shifts. Even the human voices in Astray is heard only in fragments, and sometimes via distorted sound intended to mimic how Zeytin, Nazar, and Kartal may experience it. Those bits of dialogue are sometimes comical (like remarks about two dogs pulling up during a women’s rights), sometimes political (like when men argue whether they should vote for the Nationalist Movement Party), and sometimes as ordinary as a garbage truck. operator reprimanding Nazar for not sharing a meaty bone in the trash with Zeytin. Such comments are generally background, but they nevertheless remain a key component of Lo’s observational inquiry into Turkish society’s pressing concerns, cracks and treatment of those living on the edge of it.
Astray is most appealing when you just jog alongside or behind the dog protagonists and capture the swing of their bodies, the rhythm of their gait, the curiosity in their eyes and the potential malice of their circumstances (and this is transmitted by a ‘ an excellent series in which Lo’s camera chases after Zeytin in a night street and almost loses sight of her, only to interrupt the euphoria of the moment (amplified by Ali Helnwein’s string count) by a sudden dog-on-dog outburst violence suppressed by the Syrian children At that moment, the film recognizes the thin separation between bliss and brutality that determines the daily situation of these dogs, just like the sound design (thanks to Leviathan and Sweet grass‘Ernst Karel) duplicates the swirling combination of sounds – chirping birds, honking car horns, disembodied chatter – that engulfs them as they meander from dilapidated construction site to the shop window to the gray yard.
PRAYER
Lo’s portrait of these quirky dogs is often melancholy, especially when it comes to Kartal, whose adaptation to these hard stomping grounds seems to be a considerable measure of apprehension. Yet there are also moments of amusing liveliness, such as when Zeytin comes upon a cat that is hiding in a row of park bushes and is suddenly enlightened by this discovery, immediately chasing. Astray do not shy away from the good or the bad, and document the four-legged subjects as they jump, hump, run, fight, scrub, growl, sleep, and seek protection, food, and rest. The more it looks at them, the more it uses the universality of their experience, without losing sight of the uniqueness of their character and predicament.
With acting neo-realistic grace, Astray let his dogs’ actions in the face of abandonment, neglect, and abuse speak volumes about their resilience and benevolence, their ferocity, and their compassion. In doing so, the film also says a lot about the men and women who are willing to lend a helping hand to the underprivileged – and also about those who blindfold the blind people in need.