WHITE DOG

Julie (Kristy McNichol) is a struggling young actress who lives alone in an isolated house situated on the neck of local woods. One evening while driving home she accidentally runs over a white Alsatian. She takes the dog to the nearest Vets, who tell her he'll be okay but advise her to take him to the local dog pound. However, upon learning that he'll be killed if not claimed within 3 days, Julie decides instead to take the friendly-seeming mutt home with her.

Sticking posters advertising the dog around the area, she takes him in in the meantime and a bond develops between them. This is heightened when the dog saves her from a rapist who chances his arm by breaking into her home one evening.

But her boyfriend Roland (Jameson Parker) has reservations about the canine which come to the fore when it attacks Julie's friend and co-star Molly (Lynne Moody) while they're on the set of their latest acting gig together.

Molly is hospitalised, Julie has her mutt tested for rabies (he's not rabid) and Roland pops round to drop a bombshell to her: her new pal is an attack dog - a dog that's been trained to attack from an early age. He implores Julie to get it put down, but she insists there must be a way of deprogramming such violent commands.

All of which leads Julie to Noah's Ark, a desert-set establishment that specialises in training wild animals for use on film sets. There, the elderly Carruthers (Burt Ives) tells her an attack dog cannot "unlearn" the ways in which it's been conditioned. However, his business partner, the black Keys (Paul Winfield) thinks differently when he realises the mutt is a "white dog" - an animal that's been trained specifically to assault black people.

Keys has tried and failed twice before to recondition the thinkings of white dogs, and insists on keeping Julie's dog at the Ark for five weeks in a bid to rid it of its racist inclinations. If he fails, he reasons, he'll shoot the dog himself. Seeing no agreeable alternative, Julie agrees to this proposition.

But can a beast that has been trained since its infancy to despise people of a certain colour be taught the error of its ways ...?

Ennio Morricone's alternately sympathetic and bombastic score, director Samuel Fuller's occasional zooms into characters' faces and key points of information, and his trademark unabashed approach to tightly edited scenes of violence can't help but sometimes give WHITE DOG an inappropriately pulpish, sensationalistic approach. Perhaps this is indicative of the fact that studio backers Paramount were looking for something to muscle in on the nature-versus-man blockbuster genre kick-started by JAWS.

But in the hands of Fuller, the fiercely intelligent and singular director of previous triumphs such as SHOCK CORRIDOR, THE NAKED KISS and THE BIG RED ONE, WHITE DOG - adapted by Fuller and Curtis Hanson from Romain Gary's original story also provides long passages that offer much more depth, both in terms of characterisation and in addressing the unavoidable theme of racism.

WHITE DOG emerges, then, as a film that is as shamelessly entertaining as it is thought-provoking and 'serious'. There are moments of overwrought pathos that are admittedly laughable, but for the most part the script and performances keep events believable and Fuller remains careful to never demonise the titular creature. This certainly a study of evil, but the evil is not seen - it is the omnipresent threat of a hatred ingrained into others by folk we never even get to meet. Scary, when you think about it.

Cinematically, the film is always attractive to look at it and benefits from keen editing which keeps the pace taut throughout. A couple of set-piece scenes seem to be at loggerheads with the rest of the film (the early gambit of the dog smashing through a window to reach its fleeing victim being one such silly instance) but overall the challenging, sober tone isn't compromised.

An American classic, albeit one that caused considerable controversy upon its 1981 release when it was withheld from distribution for fear of being deemed racist.

Eureka! have released WHITE DOG on to UK home video as a 2-disc blu-ray and DD combo set. It's being sold as one of their esteemed Masters of Cinema series.

We were sent the DVD only for review purposes. It presents the film uncut and in its original 1.78:1 aspect ratio. The picture is anamorphically enhanced.

It has to be said, this transfer is something quite beautiful to behold. Bright, vibrant, alive with natural filmic colours and texture ... it almost literally pops off the screen at times. I can't wait to see it in High Definition, if the DVD quality is this good. Blacks are strong, detail is even stronger: wow.

English 2.0 audio is similarly impressive: clean and clear throughout. Optional English subtitles for the Hard-of-Hearing are well-written and easy to read for the duration of playback.

A static main menu page opens the disc. From there, a static scene-selection menu allows access to the film by way of 10 chapters.

The only extra in this set is a great 48-page colour booklet. This opens with full credits for the film and then reprints an excellent piece on the film by Jonathan Rosenbaum which was originally written in 1991. This glowing review for The Chicago Reader reveals that Roman Polanski almost made the film in the 1970s, and goes on to elaborate on why Rosenbaum rates Fuller's adaptation as one of the best films of the 1980s.

Next we get a bizarre but great piece from 1981 in which Fuller himself interviews the dog from the film. Yes, you read that right. If you want to know what this is all about, I suggest you invest!

The booklet also contains a highly attractive collection of scrapbook pieces, which includes Fuller's notes on how he came to be attached to the film and the fake outrage that ensued following its release.

Finally, we get the usual notes on the transfer and DVD credits.

WHITE DOG remains a thrilling, engrossing and challenging slice of American cinema to this day. Despite a sad lack of video extras, this set comes highly recommended on the grounds of its main feature and accompanying booklet alone.

By Stuart Willis