When Time is Running Out, Name Your Dog Caramelo

P.O.V: You barely survived finals and even though it feels like you’ve just caught your breath, the new semester swiftly approaches. As you work on your New Year's resolutions that hopefully won’t begin to slip come March, you notice that there’s still so much that you need to do. You need an escape—so you mindlessly scroll through Netflix for something that may give you a laugh; something lighthearted, corny even. You stumble across a preview of a rambunctious dog that’s running on the tables of a Brazilian sous chef's kitchen, looking for something to eat. You’ve got a winner. 

Diego Freitas’s Caramelo appears as a family-friendly movie with colorful imagery and playful thematics. Seen in the well-intentioned protagonist Pedro and his loyal yet rambunctious companion Caramelo, this film serves as another man’s best friend movie, similar to the likes of A Dog’s Purpose (2017), Turner and Hooch (1989), and Marley and Me (2008). Usually, the unsuspecting protagonist must suddenly care for a dog and the both of them embark on an emotional journey that the protagonist learns from greatly. 

Not-yet-named Caramelo and Pedro meet at a Brazilian food market adorned with flags, vibrant displays, vegetables, and meats that are disturbed after a gang of dogs chase the caramel-coated dog away until he makes it into the back of Pedro’s trunk. As the pair drive away, a pulsing Brazilian interpolation of “Who Let the Dogs Out” plays as the introductory credits roll. After this interaction, the dog finds a way to stay nearby, even walking along the counters of Pedro’s job, increasingly causing trouble wherever applicable. After almost costing Pedro his job plus being upbraided by a neighbor at night for noise, Pedro begrudgingly takes him in. 

There are hilarious moments where Caramelo ruins his apartment, where the slapstick ill-mannered dog trope thrives freely. Narratively, Pedro has the spotlight as the hero: the one who will accomplish his goal and then give back to his mother. His life seems to be on the up and up. We have the elements of a feel-good movie ahead of us, so everything is fruitful and bright, right?

I’m sitting slouched in my seat, wondering where the twist is, or where the movie could go from here, given how well everything is transpiring. Pedro is trying to give Caramelo up for adoption at the shop his love interest owns. As I watch, there's another sharp distortion of audio and a blurred handheld close-up where the camera switches from Pedro in visible pain and then to Caramelo licking the back of Pedro’s head. Similar to its first presence, I ignore it, writing it off as an instance to be explained later—then I sit up immediately. 

Well, 27-year-old Pedro has life-threatening cancer, which his caramel companion signals early on. At this time, we are seated in the throes of what this film is really about. It’s quite abrupt when the Doctor breaks the life-changing news to Pedro, given that his life was just beginning. This colorful world (thanks to the stylistic color grading) isn’t as picture-perfect as I originally believed. 

I begin to think about what I have just gotten myself into. This is a film about a dying man, a trope that can be quite off-putting, but strangely, I do not feel the urge to shut my laptop—I feel the need to endure. 

Considering Caramelo as a whole, it exists as an escape film, but I also appreciated watching a film from another culture. It was filmed in Brazil, featuring the historic streets, landscapes, oceans, in addition to third spaces such as the church, park, markets, and more, creating an authentic world of people that showcased all facets of life. An example is the soundtrack, especially during Caramelo-focused montages and moments of unity among Pedro and his friends, which highlights Brazil’s artists from new artists to the traditional singer Waldik Soriano. These small details are what brought the full picture together, and grounded the location in Brazil. 

This film did contain aspects of an ‘Americanized’ culture, but still aimed to stay close to its roots, as its outreach was also international, embracing the viewer within its world. Given that this movie was distributed by Netflix, it had a larger outreach than if distributed in Brazil, which could explain the blending of American aspects in this film. It would be remiss not to mention America’s impact on film culture. Nowadays, international filmmakers are presented with the option to allow aspects of a pervasive Hollywood within their films or reject it entirely; Caramelo does the former. In doing so, this film provokes the question if the world would give more attention to films that are more “authentic” to their own culture without utilizing the safety net of globalization. Netflix, among other streaming services, offer the opportunity to see this case study in real time. Personally, even though my experience will differ from a native of Brazil (especially because I needed subtitles), I still was able to appreciate all that I could learn from this film—not as a representation of Brazil, but as an inviting particle of the culture. The film firmly exists as its own product of expression, not an ambassador of Brazil or a standard for culture either. One takeaway for me is the potential of more international movies making it to the mainstream, and the importance of support for new artists within the film industry worldwide.

From a thematic standpoint, Caramelo had a certain charm to it that made me keep watching, especially with its outrageously hilarious sequences of Caramelo’s mischief in contrast with Pedro’s difficulty with his reality. There was this constant idea of recreation and rebuilding that felt poignant, even at moments where ridiculousness ran rampant. Within the concept of rebuilding were the honest feelings of frustration, self-doubt, fear, and the confusion that accompanies any setback, but also a solution, because it was all temporary. 

Through its central dynamic and friendships, Caramelo at its core pushes for accepting what’s ahead and deciding to show up entirely. Even though there were moments when Pedro lost control of his identity, there was always something that he could do instead, so his life depended on what he decided was within reach. His journey served to share lessons of humility and patience for future generations. While the topics were heavy, there was a gentle delivery of them: consciousness of the wording, implications, and abruptness. Caramelo bridges the idea of self-control along with unforeseen circumstances in which one needs to adapt and persevere. The concept of time was also quite thought-provoking. Time was painted as purely perceptual but also within some means of control, even though it is constant. Not only time, but companionship in general, and how difficult it was to acknowledge that no one can fight every battle on their own. The time that Pedro had with people he loved might have been slim, but what he truly desired still required him to want to fight for it. There was no room for hopelessness, because each interaction still had value, even when short-lived.

Reflecting on the tropes that occurred in the narrative, there were some heavy hitters of the evident man’s best friend, as well as the driven protagonist, coincidental love interest, and comic relief, just to name a few. It’s a set-up that many people are familiar with, accompanied by an eye roll, but tropes exist all throughout the film world. The point is to add upon the troupe “template” or to reject it, which I could see Caramelo doing when the women take the lead or how masculinity is handled in emotionally bitter-sweet moments. 

After watching, I thought about why movie plots are reinvented or repurposed through different cultures. Then I thought, what if movies weren’t reinvented this way? If the purpose of every film was to be completely original, then that leaves no room for expression, as film is a culture that constantly inspires and changes, similar to Caramelo’s recurring theme. Film exists as a celebration of an artform, even if the director’s intention is to entertain. The point of Caramelo is to convey that time is finite and to believe: messages that may provide relief or, funnily enough, introspection, at any point of someone's life or in my case, after a merciless finals season. In general, while this film contained influences from Hollywood and European cinema, seen in the editing, soundtrack, and writing, it still aimed for individuality, exemplified by its choice in ending. Caramelo served as a reminder of the importance of storytelling, setting, and creativity, highlighting Brazilian heritage and pride within itself as a film to entertain.

Nadege Sainsurin is a junior at Columbia College studying Creative Writing and Film. They enjoy mangoes, sudoku, and discovering new music genres when time is spared.