A Raw and Poignant Directorial Debut
I sincerely hope Embeth Davidtz continues making films because she is a gifted filmmaker whose voice and vision bring important stories to life with honesty and artistry.
Written by Mariane Tremblay
After nearly a year of anticipation, Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight proves itself worth the wait from the very first scene. In just 98 minutes, Embeth Davidtz delivers a deeply emotional and effective story that lingers long after the credits roll.
Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight marks an incredibly strong feature directorial debut from Embeth Davidtz. Based on Alexandra Fuller’s 2001 memoir, the film chronicles the childhood of eight-year-old Bobo (Lexi Venter) on her family’s farm in Zimbabwe (formerly Rhodesia) during the tumultuous final days of the Zimbabwean War of Independence in 1980. It’s a story of conflict, love, and survival, told through the eyes of a child struggling to make sense of a complicated and violent world.
For those unfamiliar with the background, the Rhodesian Bush War (also known as the Rhodesian Civil War or Zimbabwe War of Independence) was a brutal conflict from 1964 to 1979 involving the white minority-led government and militant African guerrilla forces fighting for liberation. The war culminated in the transition from Rhodesia to independent Zimbabwe in 1980, a time of hope but also deep scars.
The film conveys a relentless sense of danger, where violence is a constant undercurrent. The parents are always armed—even while they sleep—and the tension runs so high that the children aren’t allowed to approach them at night, in case they're mistaken for a threat. When the father is away, someone is brought in to guard the house, a reminder of just how fragile and volatile their everyday life is. Growing up in Africa during that time must have been deeply disorienting for a child—"caught in a white supremacist world, surrounded by adults whose behavior was anything but stable."
Davidtz’s South African upbringing brings both experience and intimate understanding to the project. Her intimate knowledge of the region’s history and racial dynamics—along with her family’s struggles with alcoholism and mental illness—infuses the film with an authenticity that few filmmakers could achieve. Fuller’s memoir resonated with her because it “touched on vital and painful aspects” of Davidtz’s own childhood in 1970s and ‘80s South Africa, a place “at war more quietly (but just as viciously)” under oppressive governance.
“You know where cameras go, you know how to tell the story better than anybody. Hire a great cinematographer and get a good editor, and make it yourself.”— Davidtz’s husband
The film captures an ever-present sense of danger but through the lens of Bobo’s family experience. It deftly balances the political and personal, highlighting the “unbreakable bond” the family shares with Africa, even as they are caught in the crossfire of history. The result is a powerful and deeply emotional story.
“I’ll never leave Africa, and you’ll never leave me.”
“I think I will die if we leave this farm.”
The family is quietly unraveling under the weight of mental illness and emotional instability. Early on, Nicola (Embeth Davidtz) jokes, “I think I’m allergic to brandy,” to which her husband (Rob van Vuuren) replies, “I think you’re allergic to the whole bottle.” At first, the comment seems throwaway—almost playful—but as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that she’s battling something much deeper. Her behavior grows increasingly erratic and manic, marked by heavy drinking, pill use, and a disoriented detachment from reality. Beneath it all lingers the unspoken weight of past trauma, a loss that haunts her every move and only adds to the heaviness already pressing down on the family. What begins as subtle dysfunction slowly escalates, exposing the toll of untreated mental illness within a household already on edge.
One of the film’s greatest strengths lies in its point of view. The story is told almost entirely through Bobo’s eyes. Venter’s fearless, funny, and intelligent portrayal perfectly captures the innocence and confusion of childhood—the way children are full of life yet unable to fully grasp the horrors unfolding around them. The film even shows moments literally from Bobo’s height or through her eyelashes, creating a visually stunning and immersive experience. It’s arguably one of the best child performances I’ve seen this year—if not in years. The story would feel entirely different if told through the eyes of adults; here, the child’s perspective adds a magical, poignant layer to the narrative.
Visually, Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight is stunning. Davidtz’s cinematographic choices are immaculate: the camera movements, framing, and use of lenses all work together to create some of the most beautiful imagery of the year. From the color palette to the dusty, gritty textures, nothing feels romanticized. Instead, the film presents a messy, raw, and honest portrayal of life in that era and place. The sets, colors, and lighting contribute to an atmosphere that feels lived-in and authentic. This rawness is crucial.
Embeth Davidtz’s directing style here is confident and thoughtful. She knows exactly where to place the camera and how to move it to evoke mood and emotion, making this one of the most visually captivating films of the year. It’s clear that this project is deeply personal to her; every frame feels purposeful and meaningful.
Not only did Davidtz write and direct the film, but her performance as Nicola Fuller is nothing short of extraordinary. I admired Davidtz’s talent before, but her work here completely floored me. Her portrayal is raw and deeply honest—sometimes she doesn’t even need to speak; her facial expressions say it all. You can truly feel the weight of her pain, her struggles with alcoholism and mental health laid bare in an unflinching, profoundly human way.
Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight is a beautifully crafted, emotionally resonant film that tackles complex and painful themes with sensitivity and nuance. The blend of a child’s innocent perspective with the harsh realities of war and family turmoil creates a haunting, unforgettable experience. Lexi Venter’s standout performance, combined with Davidtz’s skillful direction and writing, makes this a must-see.
I sincerely hope Embeth Davidtz continues making films because she is a gifted filmmaker whose voice and vision bring important stories to life with honesty and artistry.
Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight is now playing in theatres; it deserves your attention.
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