BRING YOUR OWN DOG
It was Charlie Bucket’s first trip to the movies, and he dressed up for the occasion. Looking sharp in a flowered bow tie, he glanced around the historic theatre and took in his surroundings. Then, without warning, he tried to crawl under the stage.
Charlie, an 18-month-old Yorkie-cairn terrier mix, was one of many first-timers at the Roxie Theater in San Francisco on Monday night. The theatre was holding a sneak preview of Wes Anderson’s new film, Isle Of Dogs, with a particularly appropriate twist — the screening was BYOD, or bring your own dog.
Outside the sold-out event, pups posed for photographs on a red carpet before heading into the 234-seat theatre to find their spots.
“Dogs get the seats,” said Isabel Fondevila, the Roxie’s director of programming. “And we have a lint roller ready for after.”
But as the theatre filled up, the seats proved a bit challenging for some of the guests. Leila, a seven-month-old Chihuahua-cocker spaniel mix in a pink-and-redstriped sweater, couldn’t seem to get comfortable. No matter which way she turned, something more interesting was happening in the other direction. And when she twisted around to sniff the theatre behind her, the seat popped up, folding her inside.
“She’s too light,” said Emily Happe, 21, scooping Leila onto her lap.
Scout, a seven-year-old Yorkie-terrier mix, was too excited to sit at all. She sniffed around on the ground, pointedly ignoring Danielle Hobart, 30, who patted a seat, trying to encourage Scout to hop up.
“She’s a suburban country dog; she likes chasing sheep,” said Hobart, who borrowed Scout from her father-in-law for the movie. “This is all new.”
Monday’s event was conceived by Andrea Bertolini, a senior account executive at Allied Integrated Marketing, which is publicising Isle Of Dogs. The stop-motion film, opening nationwide tomorrow, is set in the fictional Japanese city Megasaki, where all dogs have been banished to a dump called Trash Island. Bertolini said that she knew as soon as she saw the trailer that she wanted to hold a dog-friendly screening.
“I thought, ‘Who would be amenable?’. A lot of chain theatres probably would have said, ‘Have a nice day’,” she said. (There are also dog-friendly screenings scheduled this weekend in British cinemas.)
But the people at the Roxie Theater were excited about the idea — and they had experience. For the past two years, the New York Dog Film Festival has travelled to the theatre, which has welcomed canine customers alongside their humans.
“We love dogs,” Fondevila said. “We had no doubts.”
Inside the theatre, Iko, a nine-year-old Shiba Inu, wasn’t quite as sure. Shawn Hatfield, 44, held Iko on his lap.
“I think he’s just trying to figure out if this is the vet or not,” Hatfield said. “He sees lots of people and dogs. I think he’s waiting for needles.”
And the night’s official host, a one-eyed bichon-Shih Tzu rescue named Pirate with a skull-and-crossbones pendant hanging from his collar, was also battling nerves.
“It’s certainly his first time hosting a premiere,” said his owner Samantha Martin, 44.
Martin runs Pirate’s Instagram account. Her husband, Greg McQuaid, 48, used to work with Bertolini, who asked if Pirate
The stop-motion film is set in a fictional Japanese city, where all dogs have been banished to Trash Island
would lend his celebrity to the event. As show time approached, McQuaid and Pirate made their way to the stage, accompanied by Kristin Hoff, adoptions manager at Muttville, a senior dog-rescue organisation in San Francisco, and Hoff’s foster dog, Ela. There, they made a pitch for adopting older dogs, and then McQuaid reminded human attendees that dogs should be taken outside if they became aggressive or upset. Even Pirate might need a break.
“He’s kind of a grumpy old man,” McQuaid said. “He hates joy and merriment of any kind, so we’re not sure a Wes Anderson film is the best choice.” Pirate wagged his tail. In the second row, Winston, an 18-month-old cocker spaniel mix, sat up and panted at them. Leila, worn out from all the excitement with her seat, was falling asleep in Happe’s lap. Toward the back of the theatre, Charlie Bucket settled in and waited for the show to start. Someone growled, just a little. The lights dimmed.