“They’re Not Masters. I Had a Master Once and I Know. Whatever the White Coats Are, They’re Not Masters…” – Snitter

One of the longest British animated films ever released, 1982’s The Plague Dogs is an extraordinarily bleak yet emotionally resonant film that tackles the uncomfortable subject matter of animal testing, particularly in the case of canines. A beautifully melancholy and poignant story about hope, companionship and scientific boundaries, many will undoubtedly find The Plague Dogs a long-winded and generally unpleasant experience. Whereas, for those who can stomach its harrowing storytelling, The Plague Dogs will be as captivating as it is heart-rending, standing as an underappreciated, well-crafted piece of hand-drawn ’80s animation.

Plot Summary: When Snitter and Rowf, a pair of tormented dogs, manage to escape from a remote animal testing facility in Northwestern England, the facility director attempts to keep their escape quiet. But, as an increasing amount of local livestock are found dead, word soon leaks out, along with rumours that the dogs may be potential carriers of the bubonic plague…

The second animated film to be based on a novel by Richard Adam and written/directed by Martin Rosen, following the release of Watership Down in 1978, The Plague Dogs is similarly aimed at an adult audience despite its charming animal protagonists. In fact, alongside The Last Unicorn (1982) and The Secret of Nimh (1982), The Plague Dogs is amongst the darkest and most violent animated films of the late twentieth century. As such, if, like me, you’re a dog lover, many scenes throughout The Plague Dogs will be supremely challenging to watch as the canines suffer at many points, both mentally and physically, to thrust the underlying themes of the film onto the audience. And, as the film’s title would suggest, the protagonists’ daring journey is not as morally straightforward as it first may seem, as via a series of conversations between scientists, journalists and government officials, it’s suggested that Snitter and Rowf may carry a variant of the bubonic plague, thanks to the facility “White Coats,” but this is never entirely confirmed, leaving the rumours (as well as the ambiguous ending) up for interpretation.

The central voice cast of the late Sir John Hurt, Christopher Benjamin and James Bolam are all terrific in their assorted roles, delivering vocal performances that are empathic yet never too intense for the steady pacing. Moreover, the foremost duo of Snitter and Rowf are swiftly established and supplied with plenty of characterisation, as Rowf, a labrador retriever mix breed, begrudgingly follows the lead of Snitter, a determined and optimistic fox terrier, frequently acting as a foil for his mystical sanguinity, combating it with world-weary nihilism. Rowf’s pessimism is hardly irrational, however, as the pair’s horrific experiences in the facility have left them scarred, striving to use their escape as a chance to heal from those hellish experiences, with the survival guidance of a cunning fox known only as the “Tod.” Snitter is seemingly the heart of the film, though, formerly belonging to an affectionate owner who tragically died in an accident. Snitter underwent surgery of some kind during his time in the facility, resulting in a crown of bloodstained bandages around his head, ghostly hallucinations and persistent moments of distress due to a clamouring noise that only he can hear.

To match the relentlessly sombre tone, The Plague Dogs retains a shady colour palette throughout its runtime for both its stunning, watercoloured backgrounds and astonishingly realistic animation for the dogs, continuously prompting frames to resemble aged landscape paintings, complete with expansive fields, derelict farmhouses and cloud-covered peaks, which is even more impressive when considering no rotoscoping was utilised during production. Furthermore, the animated cinematography is dynamic and visually engaging as the camera glides around the dogs and their environment(s), often passing through windows and over stone walls, inadvertently helping to redeem the irksome amount of fade-to-black transitions in between.

Influenced by the techniques of American minimalism as well as the scores of Polish composer, Witold Lutosławski, Patrick Gleeson’s orginal score for The Plague Dogs conforms to the style of Rosen’s uncompromising filmmaking for the most part, as tracks, such as Freedom, Wondering and In the Pens, are suitably dour and fine-drawn, rarely flaring up to create room for the atmospheric sound design.

Unfortunately, regarding its reception, The Plague Dogs performed incredibly poorly critically and commercially upon its initial release, failing to live up to expectations as a follow-up to Martin Rosen’s last feature. Shortly after its UK premiere, the film’s distributor, Embassy Pictures, decided not to pursue any further theatrical releases, meaning many American animators never saw the result of their hard work, one of whom was actually a young Brad Bird, eventual writer-director of The Incredibles (2004), before he was fired during production.

In summary, the entire duration of The Plague Dogs is undeniably oozing with despair and dread. So much so, it wouldn’t be misleading to say the film is a “Prolonged Howl of Helplessness.” Still, in my opinion, the film and Rosen as a writer/director are unfairly unrecognised in the realm of animation, as while Rosen may have only orchestrated two films throughout his career, finding any animated flicks that can be compared to his filmography is virtually impossible. Rosen was a pioneer in animation, taking bold risks in his narratives and imagery alike to delve into topics the medium of animation is usually afraid to tackle, something The Plague Dogs does favourably and uncompromisingly. Rating: low 8/10.