
The animated feature film, Dog of God, invites viewers to take a darkly psychedelic ride through a story steeped in symbolism, folklore, social reflection, and lots of blood, guts, and sex. It has a lot to say—even when all it tries to convey isn’t completely clear. Religious corruption, sexism, witch trials, and other horrors, both ordinary and supernatural, come together for a most memorable tale.
Directed by Lauris Abele and Raitis Abele, Dog of God takes place in a 17th-century Livonian village named Zaube. Something sinister stirs beneath the surface of the town, ready to play on the desires, shame, lust, and hate among its residents. The story focuses on several of the villagers: The dogmatic and hateful pastor, his young errand boy, and the local tavern’s maid. The danger manifests itself loud and clear when the pastor accuses the maid of witchcraft, leading to a trial during which an elder man proclaims himself to be a werewolf, one rooted in Latvian folklore, similar to a mad shaman. All the tensions and ramifications of the trial come to a head, changing the townsfolk forever.
A lot is happening in Dog of God, and the best way to approach it is not to rely too heavily on what you expect when it comes to story beats and clichés concerning tales of werewolves and female persecution under the guise of witch trials. The film puts it all on the table pretty early, and what you might expect to be the climax of the story (there are a variety of climaxes in this film, to be clear, in all the ways your mind might think) is only the set up for a way more explosive fallout. In that sense, it provides a fresh storytelling experience that subverts expectations.
The main catalyst for the story is the accusation of witchcraft against the tavern maid, who studies alchemy and medicine. It should come as no surprise that the morally bankrupt pastor clearly has ulterior motives when it comes to accusing the woman of consorting with Satan. Although fictional in this instance, such accusations were an all too real danger for women during this time in history.
Witch trials were formal legal proceedings in which women were accused of practicing witchcraft and subsequently tried and often punished severely. The most well-known examples are the Salem Witch Trials in colonial Massachusetts (1692-93) and earlier witch hunts in Europe. Often, women who were targeted were those who deviated from societal norms or possessed characteristics perceived as threatening to the community or the dogmatic Christian religion.
Women who were independent, had knowledge or skills outside traditional roles, or were marginalized (such as widows or those without male protectors) were particularly vulnerable to accusations. Sometimes this was due to religious extremism and mass hysteria; other times it was simply a way to legally kill off a woman to obtain the land and money she possessed. It’s a fascinating and devastating time in history, and while there have been stories about it before, Dog of God adds a welcome, unapologetic, raw revenge aspect to it.

At the same time, the film provides commentary on the role of the Church in society as a power structure and oppressive force. The pastor is de facto leader of the town, both regarded and hated, clinging to power in a time when his sermons seemingly bore church-goers. The medicine woman represents the people pulling away from blind faith and leaning on science instead, and her beauty holds temptation for the pastor—so of course, he blames her for his lust. The forces represented in these two characters, and their clash, are at the heart of the film, driving the chaos forward.
It’s also refreshing to get folklore from cultures that are not always explored in mainstream media. Latvian folklore, rooted in pre-Christian Baltic mythology, has an interesting array of deities, spirits, and mythical creatures. The werewolf many of us may know about—the one that changes under the full moon, seemingly more animalistic—is quite different in this folklore. Instead, these werewolves have a more spiritual connection to gods and demons. Known as “vilkacis” or “vilkati” in Latvian folklore, they are figures who can transform between human and wolf, and are closely associated with agricultural societies and their concerns about livestock and harvests. So, it makes sense that one shows up in Zaube foreseeing dark happenings on the horizon.
In fact, the film is inspired by the true story of the 1692 Livonian werewolf trial of Thiess of Kaltenbrun. Thiess was a man who claimed to be one of the “Dogs of God” who descended into Hell not to spread terror but to fight witches and demons, protect crops, and secure the well-being of peasants.
Some readers might be familiar with the Latvian film, Flow, which won Best Animated Feature at the 2025 Academy Awards; don’t expect Dog of God to be anything like it. While Flow subtly addressed the issue of climate change through cute animals in peril, Dog of God does nothing subtle in addressing the ills of society and the Folly of man.
The film’s rotoscope animation helps to add tangible realness to the story. Rotoscope is a technique where animators trace over live-action footage frame by frame to create animated sequences. This animation style, coupled with the setting of the 17th century, feels like a moving Renaissance painting, similar to that style of art that leaned on humanism and naturalism. This allows for the fantastical tale to be grounded in the most picturesque way.
The sex in the film happens often but is not without meaning and purpose. It’s clear that the filmmakers had fun with what they created, showing that heavy subject material can be handled in an effective way without being a bore.
While you may need to watch Dog of God more than once to understand everything that’s happening in it, it guarantees to be a wild ride with every viewing.
Dog of God had its world premiere at the 2025 Tribeca Film Festival.
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