Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight

With all the conflicts around the world, we often focus only on the losses on each side. What we hear little about are the survivors—we expect them to simply carry on with their lives as if nothing happened. As adults, we have coping mechanisms to help deal with trauma, but what do children have to help process theirs? Those are the people I think about—the next generation, forced to witness horrors they can’t understand. Unlike adults, kids don’t look at the world with hatred in their eyes. In Embeth Davidtz’s new film Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight, we see one girl’s world change—entirely through her eyes.

Bobo (Lexi Venter) and her family live on a farm in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) during a period of great political and social upheaval. It’s 1980, and British colonial rule is coming to an end. An election is underway, one that will shift the balance of power in the country. Bobo lives with her sister Vanessa (Anina Reed), her mother Nikola (Embeth Davidtz), and her father Tim (Rob Van Vuuren)—and it’s clear that their world is anything but normal. Her mother sleeps with a machine gun beside her, and her father is involved in military operations somewhere nearby. But Bobo’s parents’ world feels far removed from her own.

Most of Bobo’s time is spent with Sarah (Zikhona Bali), a household employee. Some of the other staff believe Sarah indulges Bobo too much. Bobo, for her part, behaves as though she doesn’t see color—though she frequently crosses lines she doesn’t understand. The world she sees feels vastly different from the one the adults are living in.

Written and directed by Davidtz, and based on the memoir by Alexandra Fuller, Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight masterfully weaves emotional depth into its storytelling. This isn’t a tale filled with childlike wonder; instead, a palpable sense of dread hangs over the film and intensifies as the story progresses. The tension feels real, reflecting both the personal tragedies and the larger sociopolitical turmoil unfolding in Rhodesia. Through Bobo’s eyes, we witness the racism that surrounds her, the subtle ways she absorbs ideas from her parents, and the emotional cost of war—one she doesn’t yet comprehend, but we do.

Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight finds a way to blend the innocence of childhood with the brutal realities of racial tension in a striking and deeply personal way. That’s what makes the film so memorable—it never tries to be more than a very intimate story about a young girl coming of age in a deeply fractured world. Watching the loss of innocence is never easy. At just eight years old, Bobo has already seen more anguish than most adults will in a lifetime.

Venter is remarkable as Bobo. With her often-dirty face and messy hair, she conveys so much through expressions and gestures alone, making her portrayal heartbreakingly believable. Coupled with the dreamlike cinematography from Willie Nel, every frame communicates the internal and external chaos surrounding her. This story evokes powerful emotions, and one can only hope that by doing so, it might make people pause—and think—before allowing history to repeat itself.