"It's torture watching Old Yeller," said Levi Abrino in a recent Vault interview. "We raised basset hounds. I figured out that if you start out with the dog dead, nothing bad can happen."
It is Vault's distinct pleasure to introduce the Curwensville, Pa. filmmaker and his debut independent.
The film short, Abrino's senior thesis in film/video production at Penn State, is now making the rounds in the festival circuit, has appeared on public television, and may be pointing to bigger things as he continues his work at NYU.
"Burying Dvorak" is an odd and touching coming of age story of a boy and his
dog. It is odd because the boy, Ben (14 year old Ben Carlson of State College, Pa.) clings to the deceased basset hound of the title, which he has had stuffed and mounted on rollers.
"Struck down by a massive coronary heart attack at the age of two," complains Ben to his mom at the film's opening. "I'll probably die this year."
It is touching in the way of effective coming of age stories, giving us an outcast or, forgive me, an underdog to empathize with and a situation that can only be resolved within.
"The dog is the last thread to a world of innocence. Giving it up is like letting go of the childish view," said Abrino. "People often use someone else for their salvation and come to realize they're in charge of their own salvation. Like when a kid realizes his parents aren't super-heroes anymore."
Viewers may quickly understand Ben's bleak outlook. He clings vainly to his dog the way he might cling to the unrealistic idea of a perfect family life complete with a father in the house.
The movie is about that moment when Ben is forced to confront his own broken heart and decides whether or not it is less painful to move on.
Ben is a vulnerable nerd, very much a proto-Woody Allen, whose nightmares pretty much consist of gym class and whose observations are slightly brainy.
He does not deliver his dialogue as much as allow it to seep out, almost as if he only really speaks to himself. After all, he doesn't have his dog anymore and it isn't as if he can actually talk to his mother.
The other actors in the small cast are uniformly good as they present thematic forces brought to bear on a weakling kid who is slowly arming himself against the slings and arrows of the world.
Another local tie in the film is the particularly evocative score by Chris Farley, also of Curwensville, Pa., who is a Duquesne graduate in music composition. Video Vault Rating: 8