The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou Dog Names

For anyone who is a fan of Wes Anderson, you might wonder where his loyalties lie when it comes to dogs. In nearly half of his films, a dog dies in some tragic way, or is at least regarded with what seems to be a lack of sentimentality, which can often rub some viewers the wrong way. But then again, he’s not killing real dogs, and more importantly, it seems as it he’s using their deaths for some greater means. Although his responses in interviews are somewhat aloof and seem to fall short of true explanation, there does seem to be an underlying theme with his subject matter that was first explored by Ian Crouch of The New Yorker and further exemplified with Anderson’s most recent film, The Isle of Dogs. But first, let’s take a look back at the fates of his previous canine characters. 

In 2001’s The Royal Tenenbaums, Gene Hackman, who played Royal, the family’s patriarch, takes his grandkids to bet on a dog fight, even showing blood on them once they return home to their father. Later in the film, the family’s Beagle, Buckley, is killed when Eli Cash (Owen Wilson) crashes a car into the house. 

In 2004’s The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, the pirates that steal Ned’s money and Bill Ubell, the bond company stooge, leave their three-legged dog behind, an event of which causes Steve to curse at thoroughly, as if left with a burden. The dog remains without a name until later in the film, when Steve finally gives it one (Cody) after being prompted by his arch-nemesis Alistair Hennessey. When Cody whines during a conversation, Hennessey smacks it with a newspaper (off-screen) and tells him to be still. 

In 2009’s The Fantastic Mr. Fox, Spitz, a mouth-foaming Beagle, is one of Mr. Fox’s greatest adversaries, leading Fox to drug him with laced blueberries. 

In 2012’s Moonrise Kingdom, during an un-filmed brawl between the main characters and their enemies, a wire-haired dog named Snoopy is killed by being shot through the neck with an arrow, then eulogized with a nearly apathetic exchange. 

In all, none of the dogs in his previous films seemed to be paid with much regard or respect — at least at the surface — leading many to wonder if Anderson himself hates dogs. Crouch’s analysis proposes two interesting theories: one that assumes Anderson’s upbringing under the title of “troubled child” led him to show that the treatment of dogs is the result of collateral damage caused by the ineptitude of adults, the other framing them as part of the universal condition of life, a cold, often brutal place where no one is safe. 

While the opinion is certainly on-mark given Anderson’s personality, interviews, and both on- and off-screen history, his newest film Isle of Dogs may be the strongest case yet, but not to lend credence to his love for torturing canine characters, but more so that dogs can be both a statement and a vehicle for larger meaning.