Animafest Zagreb Review: Son of a Bitch has the bite to back up its bark

Generally, you don't want to be called a "son of a bitch." Sure, it might sometimes be thrown out there with begrudging respect or a jocular friendliness, but I think it's fair to posit that most of the time, it isn't exactly being used as a compliment. For Ismael, the young man at the center of Son of a Bitch, which played tonight at Animafest Zagreb, it's perhaps more a fact than anything else. His mom, Maria Teresa, is the most famous prostitute in the small Brazilian village of Veredas, so everyone in town calls him "son of a bitch." And since he's a sort of jack-of-all-trades handyman, he is constantly fielding requests as he walks through town.

But Ismael is much more interested in the parent who isn't in town: his father, whom he never met, whose name he doesn't even know. It's a familiar narrative we see play out time and time again: the kid who wants to know why they were left behind, who builds a kind of fantasy world around the parent who left rather than the one who has sacrificed for them, to provide the semblance of a normal, happy life. Ismael's life might not exactly be happy, but he has a roof over his head, he's well-liked, he's handsome. But still, he's haunted by this mystery: who is his father, and where is he?

The answer comes in the form of a book that a stranger gifted him years ago, one Ismael has never bothered to read. A neighbor flips it open and notices the dedication: it was a gift from Ismael's father, Jorge. This leads to Maria Teresa sharing what she knows. Jorge is a fisherman who lives in a distant town. She tells her son, "That bastard left. I'm the one here." And guess what Ismael does...

Off he goes, accompanied by another literal son of a bitch, the three-legged dog Bacalhau, a trusty companion who can talk, and who remains a good friend even when he's called a stray and treated as such. The pair end up following a bumpy, unfinished road out into the wilderness, and along the way, they meet some colorful characters.

At every turn, I was so taken with how Son of a Bitch is a perfect marriage of style and substance, its bark completely worthy of its bite. The animation is so striking, with various monochromatic palettes dominating the various settings: the greyscale of the town, the yellows of the desert, the pinks of the brothel. At certain junctures, the film pops with more diverse color stories, and even goes into a completely different style in a memorable dream sequence, one that perhaps contains more truth than any other scene in the movie. Ismael is constantly butting heads with the people along his way, but they are all just trying to be captains of their own fates, the protagonists of their own stories, the heroes of their own lives. 

Time and time again, Son of a Bitch reveals how thorny life can be, and how often our lives rhyme with others', sometimes in ways we might not expect. By being empathetic, hearing other people's stories, and shouldering their burdens (even if just for an hour, or a night), we become fuller people, can see ourselves more clearly. The world makes more sense as we allow other people to inform our understanding of it, rather than just staying in our own heads, our own journeys, our own small towns. For as funny and sometimes quite harsh as Son of the Bitch can be, it's also a movie with a big heart and a lot on its mind. It's a deceptively simple package, one that packs quite a punch by the time all is said and done.

It pokes at why we might not be able to appreciate what we have, instead focusing on what we don't: the ways doing so can let us pass the blame, the buck, not have to take responsibility for our own actions and the lives we find ourselves living. Eventually, if all you're known as is a son of a bitch, the onus is on you to become something more. And if you open yourself up to the people and the world (and the dogs) around you, you will.