Laika, the dog the Soviets sent into space, came from the streets of Moscow. This is a film about stray dogs roaming the streets of Moscow. That's the only link.

The dogs set off car alarms, pop balloons, and then kill a cat, which is the point at which I stopped watching. Maybe the empty, vacuous violence is some sort of metaphor for modern Russia, but I couldn't see why I should bother to decode it.

A very harsh documentary with small portions of dialogue, just enough for us to create the narrative the images elicit on us. Most of the time, we simply see dogs, they won't tell us anything, they will just go around with their lives completely ignorant to the camera and what it means.

Sometimes, we followed these dogs, other times we saw historical archive footage of the efforts to launch dogs into space. Other times, the images were violent, not for those who are faint of hear but they were real images that depicted what these dogs were submited to.

Once regarded as giants in space, now homeless on the streets.

Como retrato de dos perros que viven su plena vida por las calles de Rusia, Space Dogs funciona de manera notable: es directo, se pone al nivel de sus retratados y prefiere quedarse siempre con la verdad antes que con la mentira, por más truculenta que esta sea. Como alegoría de un pasado comunista, se termina perdiendo: el material de archivo no alcanza y el tenue hilo que une ambas narrativas se siente forzado.