‘Dog of God’ Movie Review [Fantasia 2025]: A Psychedelic Trip Into the Violent & Erotic World of Religious Hypocrisy

Photo from Mārcis Ābele/Fantasia Film Festival

From Jeff Nelson

Lauris and Raitis Ābele’s Dog of God is a clammy illusion in every sense — from its surreal, visceral imagery to its fragmented structure. This animated feature wouldn’t necessarily stick out from the peculiar programming of a late-night Adult Swim lineup, aside from its even more explicit nature. That alone should signal whether this movie is for you.

Set in 17th-century Livonia, the Latvian film opens with a mysterious wanderer in chains, who rips the testicles from an overturned devil. A small village decays under the rule of a cruel priest and a superficial baron, trapped in a vise of religious and political control. By night, the villagers drown their woes in the booze-soaked tavern, drawing the priest’s wrath, which he takes out on his adoptive son and servant, Klibi. They both have a part to play in the apocalyptic reckoning that shambles toward their small community.

When the priest’s holy relic goes missing, he spirals into a paranoid frenzy, directing his merciless rage at the well-intentioned tavern-keeper (who dabbles in medicinal potions). His conflicting desires put a target on her back – one that can’t easily be erased. After he accuses her of witchcraft, she’s forced to face her brainwashed peers, who use religion as a tool of persecution. That is, until the arrival of the ball-ripping stranger, whose supernatural “gift” alters the village’s fate forever.

Dog of God brims with historical and mythological intrigue, begging for deeper exploration than its fragmented structure allows. The Ābele brothers hop from one perspective to another, offering breadth at the expense of depth. Character arcs feel restricted, reduced to fleeting glimpses of their role in the village’s hierarchy. 

While the unpacking of religious hypocrisy and radical hedonism is familiar, the film’s unapologetic, downright bizarre execution makes it feel fresh. The explicit imagery may turn some audiences away, but there’s a purpose to its madness. If nothing else, it’s a rare work of authenticity.

The rotoscoped animation holds Dog of God back from fully realizing its vision. The underwhelming visuals undercut this world of delirium, though the directors still inject style with ominous landscapes and hallucinogenic flourishes. The winning combination of dark comedy and retro absurdity in a fascinating setting does plenty of heavy lifting. It instills a pit of dread in your stomach that makes even its disturbing sense of humor feel heavy and fulfilling. This Latvian horror fever dream doesn’t always stick the landing, but its unflinching portrait of human cruelty makes for an oddly compelling journey.

Rating: 3/5

Dog of God played at Fantasia 2025 on July 21st.

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