A Poetic Journey Toward Personal Freedom

Read Time:4 Minute, 36 Second

MOVIE REVIEW
Wolf and Dog (Lobo e Cão)
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Genre: Drama, LGBTQIA2S+
Year Released: 2022 (U.S. Premiere: 2025 on IndiePix Unlimited)
Runtime: 1h 51m
Director(s): Cláudia Varejão
Writer(s): Leda Cartum, Cláudia Varejão
Cast: Ana Cabral, Ruben Pimenta, Cristiana Branquinho, Marlene Cordeiro, João Tavares
Where to Watch: IndiePix Unlimited (Streaming starting June 27, 2025)

RAVING REVIEW: A stillness to WOLF AND DOG speaks louder than most films with three times the dialogue. With its dreamlike textures and grounded sense of place, Cláudia Varejão’s narrative debut crafts an atmosphere where emotions boil beneath the surface until they shift the entire landscape. Set on the isolated island of São Miguel in the Azores, this queer coming-of-age drama is both tender and raw, full of contradictions that mirror the very forces shaping its characters’ lives.

Ana, portrayed by Ana Cabral, exists in a world of expectations. Raised by women and surrounded by routines passed down over generations, her life seems predestined—until two people begin to tilt her world on its axis: Luis (Ruben Pimenta,) her best friend who blurs every line society draws, and Cloé (Cristiana Branquinho,) an outsider who brings with her the freedom of distance. Together, they form a fragile but brave group seeking space in a culture that is slow to change.

WOLF AND DOG is a film less interested in plot mechanics than emotional, social, and visual metaphors. It’s an unapologetically slow burn, choosing contemplation over confrontation. While that restraint won’t work for every viewer, especially those looking for a more traditionally structured story, there’s beauty in how the film unfolds like a secret being carefully told. Rui Xavier’s cinematography is a standout, layering the island in twilight blues and overcast silvers that echo the fog in which many characters live within. The image symbolizes the transition between tradition and rebellion, childhood and identity, isolation and belonging.

The heart of the film lies in its empathy. Varejão avoids judgment and sensationalism, favoring an observational lens that allows space for discomfort and contradiction. In Luis, we see the bravery of self-expression with the risk of alienation. His character isn’t tokenized or defined solely by gender nonconformity; he’s given space to exist, which feels radical in a story set against such a deeply traditional backdrop.

Cloé catalyzes Ana’s transformation—but she’s never reduced to just that role. She, too, is navigating loss, desire, and cultural dislocation. The interplay between the three leads forms the film's center, and their scenes are where WOLF AND DOG finds its rhythm—quiet, messy, and genuine.

Though it flirts with neorealism, the film has a poetic spirit. It’s a mood piece as much as a narrative, echoing the director’s roots. While some moments feel too ephemeral for their own good, others hit with force—especially those that expose the weight of growing up queer in a place where even the sea feels like a boundary.

The film’s awards pedigree—winner of the GDA Director’s Award at Venice and standout at numerous festivals—makes sense. It’s an intimate, human-scale story that thrives on the festival circuit. But its impact will depend largely on the viewer’s patience and willingness to meet the film on those terms. Those looking for dramatic breakthroughs or tidy resolutions may walk away feeling unsatisfied. But those open to ambiguity and longing will find much to sit with.

This IndiePix Unlimited release lacks bells and whistles, but its importance lies in the access it grants. This story hasn’t been told often enough, especially not with this level of sensitivity and care. WOLF AND DOG is a gentle challenge to how stories about identity are told, opting for subtle revolutions over loud declarations. Ultimately, the film succeeds more in tone than in storytelling. Its intentions ring clear: to honor the fragile, defiant act of becoming yourself in a place that asks you not to. The result is a film that may not grab you immediately but lingers like the afterglow of a fading storm—quiet, moving, and alive.

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[photo courtesy of INDIEPIX UNLIMITED]

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