Review of “Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight”: A remarkable adaptation

Alexandra Fuller's bestselling 2001 memoir of her childhood in Africa is so cinematic, full of personal drama and political turmoil set against a vivid landscape, that it's a wonder it hasn't been made into a film yet. But it was worth the wait for Embeth Davidtz's eloquent adaptation, which tells from a child's perspective the civil war that led to the creation of the state of Zimbabwe, formerly Rhodesia – a change that the girl's white colonial parents fiercely opposed.

Davidtz, known as actress (Schindler's Listamong many others), directed and wrote the screenplay for Let's not go to the dogs tonight and plays Fuller's sad, alcoholic mother. Or co-stars, really, because the entire film rests on the slim shoulders and remarkably lifelike performance of Lexi Venter – just 7 when the film, her first, was shot. It's a bold risk to put so much weight on a child's work, but like so many of Davidtz's choices here, it turns out to be a wise one.

Another of these smart decisions is to focus intensively on a period of Fuller's childhood. Let's not go to the dogs tonight is set in 1980, just before and during the election that would bring the country's black majority to power. Bobo, as Fuller was known, is a ragged boy with a permanently dirty face and uncombed hair, who is sometimes seen riding a motorbike or secretly smoking cigarettes. She runs around the family farm, whose run-down appearance and dusty ground testify to a meager life. The film was shot in South Africa, and Willie Nel's camerawork with harsh lighting conveys the scorching feel of the sun.

Much of the story is told in Bobo's voiceover, in Venter's entirely naturalistic manner and, another daring and effective choice, all from her point of view. Davidtz's script deftly lets us hear and see the racism that surrounds the child and the ideas she innocently picked up from her parents. And we recognize the emotional cost of war even when Bobo doesn't. She often mentions terrorists, saying she's afraid to go to the bathroom alone at night for fear one will be waiting for her “with a knife or a gun or a spear.” She keeps an eye out for them as she rides into town in the family car with an armed convoy. “Africans became terrorists and that's how the war started,” she explains, parroting what she's heard.

At one point, the convoy passes a wealthy white neighborhood. This glimpse helps Davidtz place the Fullers and contextualize their ideas of privilege. Bobo has internalized these ideas without losing her innocence. Referring to the family's servants, she says in voiceover that Sarah (Zikhona Bali) and Jacob (Fumani N. Shilubana) live on the farm and that “Africans don't have last names.” Bobo loves Sarah and the stories she tells of her own culture, but Bobo also feels like she can boss Sarah around.

Venter is astonishing throughout. In close-ups, she looks wide-eyed and horrified as she visits her grandfather, who has apparently suffered a stroke. At another point, she says of her mother, “Mama says she'd trade us all for a horse and her dogs.” When she says, after a brief pause, “But I know that's not true,” her tone is not one of defiant disbelief or childlike belief, as one might have expected. It's more nuanced, with a touch of sadness that suggests a realization just beyond her childish reach. Davidtz certainly had a lot to do with this, and her editor Nicholas Contaras edited all the scenes involving Bobo to a perfect length. Still, Venter's work here is reminiscent of Anna Paquin, who won an Oscar as a child for her thoroughly believable role as a girl who also sees more than she knows. The piano.

The largely South African cast displays the same naturalism as Venter, creating a consistent tone. Rob Van Vuuren plays Bobo's father, who is at times fighting overseas, and Anina Hope Reed is her older sister. Bali and Shilubana are particularly impressive as Sarah and Jacob, their performances suggesting a resistance to white rule that the characters cannot always voice out loud.

Davidtz has a more conspicuous role than Nicola Fuller. (The film doesn't explain its title, which comes from the early 20th-century writer A.P. Herbert's phrase, “Let's not go the dogs tonight, for Mother will be there.”) At one point, Nicola shoots a snake in the kitchen and calmly walks away, ordering Jacob to bring her tea. More often, Bobo watches her mother wander around the house or sit on the porch in an alcoholic haze. But when she tells us in her voiceover about the drowned little sister, we fathom the grief behind Nicola's depression. And as misguided as it is, we understand her anger and grief as the election results make her feel like she's losing the country she considers her home. Davidtz gives herself a scene at a neighborhood dance that goes on a bit too long, but it's one of the rare sequences that does.

There are more of Fuller's memoirs that could serve as sources for further adaptations, and it's hard to imagine a more beautiful adaptation than this one.