The Dog

Co-directors Allison Berg and Frank Keraudren seem to be operating from a place of nonjudgmental curiosity, so pure and sustained that it becomes indistinguishable from love. They can't get enough of John Wojtowicz.

He's an engaging, profane interview subject, and a complex guy, self-described as both a "pervert" and a "romantic," sexually omnivorous, a Goldwater Republican before being drafted and sent to Vietnam, a McCarthyite peacenik afterward.

A spunky yet surprisingly sad portrait of a sexually liberated man held captive by his past, forever chasing and trying to rewrite his own legend.

While Wojtowicz’s shape-shifting character is the major source of fascination here, the archival footage, including with is terrifically effective in evoking the tumultuous era and occasionally providing a reality check to the Dog’s boastful version of his life.

Wojtowicz was a folk hero thanks to the movie, and he cashed in on his celebrity by signing autographs in front of the bank he tried to rob. He also retained the love and support of his wife and his doting mother, both of whom are interviewed with him in The Dog, until his death in 2006.

Every part of Wojtowicz’s story is touched by madness, though The Dog doesn’t miss the depression and tragedy that lingers around it.

And always there’s Wojtowicz himself, who died in 2006. His patter and persona must be seen to be believed. This guy was a piece of work, and so is The Dog.