‘The Dog Stars’ Review: Jacob Elordi in Ridley Scott’s Dystopian Drama

It’s no big mystery why Disney would all but bury The Dog Stars, with a late-summer release pushed back from the spring, minimum advance fanfare, sparse press with the stars, no U.S. red carpet premiere and a misleading trailer, which looks like a million other post-apocalyptic thrillers that have ceded ground to more exciting TV, like The Last of Us and — at least in its early seasons — The Walking Dead. The movie is minor-key to a fault, and some no doubt will call it underpowered, yet it’s arguably Ridley Scott’s best since The Martian 11 years ago. Now 88, the prolific director has not lost his taste for explosive action, but those bursts are cushioned here among more reflective drama.

Adapted by Mark L. Smith (The Revenant, Twisters) from the well-received 2012 novel by Peter Heller, the film has the feel of a melancholic, character-driven Western, rather than a shoot-‘em-up survivalist thriller — even if it is punctuated by sequences of that nature. That makes it a long shot to satisfy short-attention-span consumers of brawny action, but more mature audiences open to a vision of the dystopian future in which bleakness and savagery are countered by human compassion and hope should check it out.

In keeping with the throwback feel, Jacob Elordi leads with introspective movie-star magnetism that evokes the heyday of Kevin Costner, while cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt’s panoramic vistas — locations in Italy’s Alpine foothills and the mountains of the Abruzzo and Lazio regions are majestic stand-ins for Colorado — lend the unhurried but engrossing story a restorative grace. As Paul Greengrass showed in the under-appreciated News of the World, old-fashioned isn’t always a negative.

Elordi plays Hig, a widower inseparable from his loyal sidekick Jasper, a Belgian Malinois with him since the dog was a pup, and the most enduring link to happier times with Hig’s late wife, Melissa (Sai Bennett). Hig’s rapport is affectionate but spikier with tough military veteran Bangley (Josh Brolin), who despite his previous life in Army Aviation, never learned to fly. The two men share quarters in a converted hangar at an abandoned airstrip in Erie, Colorado, surrounded by a defensive perimeter.

Sharp-shooter Bangley takes care of weapons and fortifications, relying on Hig, a former mechanic and experienced pilot, to make reconnaissance flights in a battered Cessna to check for encroaching human threats and collect fuel and other supplies from what’s left of Denver. On one such mission, Hig learns of a new band of scavengers known as “Reapers,” reported to be more feral than any tribe before them, their sole purpose being to kill survivors and burn everything down.

The story takes place in 2035 — funny how the writers of post-apocalyptic fiction keep optimistically bumping back the timeframe — a decade after the human population has been decimated by an influenza pandemic. That flu took Melissa, a year after she lost the baby she was carrying. 

Hig maintains that Bangley was born for these brutal survivalist times. The older man keeps a well-stocked weaponry arsenal, cleverly recycling bullet casings as spitzers. Bangley believes in shooting first and asking questions later, which he demonstrates when two teenagers approach the perimeter carrying a machete. 

He objects to Hig putting himself at risk of infection by delivering medical supplies to a Mennonite community headed by Aaron (Benedict Wong) in a secluded valley, where many of the children carry a potentially deadly blood disease. But Hig is unwilling to turn his back on human kindness, which puts him at odds with Bangley, even when the latter saves him from a surprise attack.

When Hig picks up a radio signal from Grand Junction, prompting him to take off alone in search of something closer to civilization, engine trouble forces an unscheduled stop not far from an isolated valley ranch, where young widow Cima (Margaret Qualley) lives with her hyper-vigilant father, known as Pops (Guy Pearce). Hig slowly gains the old man’s trust and his daughter’s tentative affections while fixing his plane and clearing an airstrip from which to take off, which is hastened by an onslaught of Reapers.

More violence follows, along with a bizarre interlude featuring Allison Janney in crazy-lady makeup as a former flight attendant dressed in a vintage airline uniform, serving martinis to visitors (“Once a stewardess always a stewardess!”). But that episode feels inorganic to the more sober prevailing tone, even if the marauding savages might suggest otherwise.

Some might wonder if Scott is going soft in his senior years in some of the concluding developments, which provide hope for humanity’s resilience. But even if the ending feels abrupt and a little trite, the sentiment is not unearned. That said, Smith’s script is light on psychological complexity, and there’s a sense in the later action that the movie has been chopped about a bit in the edit.

But the strong ensemble keeps you invested. In one of the Australian actor’s first major solo leads, Elordi exudes a soulfulness and sensitivity that ground the movie in emotional authenticity. Brolin is in fine form as a hardass with a well-camouflaged core of decency, bringing considerable humor. Pearce bristles with hostility in Pops’ early scenes but gradually transitions into warmth and trust, while Qualley gives one of her loveliest performances, free from quirks or showy dramatic moments, portraying Cima as a woman bruised by grief but unwilling to shut herself off from the possibility of love.

There’s plenty of texture in Messerschmidt’s cinematography — especially when seen in IMAX — with dynamic camerawork in action scenes and soaring, crystalline images in the flight sequences. Unsurprisingly for Scott, the world-building is achieved primarily through visual means, in striking aerial shots of ghostly urban and rural areas roamed by packs of wild dogs. Harry Gregson-Williams’ score captures the tender heart of the movie in melodic passages of acoustic guitar, Dobro and orchestral strings — echoed in folky vocal tracks from Hozier, Caamp and others — while firing up effectively into glowering suspense when appropriate. 

Muted but never dull, The Dog Stars seems unlikely to land near the top of anyone’s Ridley Scott rankings. But it’s an appealingly mellow watch, even if that might seem antithetical to a post-apocalyptic drama positioned squarely in the shadow of death.