ou can take her or you can stay home.” Despite the potential for questionable activities and participants at a rave, 19-year-old Summer’s (Alexis Felix) mother insists that she bring her younger sister along. After all, underage Lex (Nastasia Koulich) really wants to go. And she finds herself enjoying it, even though she’s something of a burden on Summer, considering that she’s blind. When the two step outside and into an abandoned subway station for a break, drunken reveler Tommy (Alexander Carstoiu) and his two pals join them, orchestrating an uncomfortable social situation.

The bold choice of black-and-white photography is exquisite. “Dog” is an artistically shot short subject, even if the scenario unfolding isn’t as engaging. It’s a brief examination of sisterly bonding, though the momentary commentary on spending time together clashing with selfishness or independence (it’s a toss-up, since the only information given about their upbringing revolves around a line or two from the mother, who could be relating ordinary criticisms of children) is abruptly interrupted. An accident occurs, but it seems so out of place and intrusive; it doesn’t appear to have anything to do with the themes previously established. In fact, after Summer sets aside her understandable self-centered attitude at the start, then takes control of a confrontation that could have scarily veered away from the juvenile innocence in which it began, she’s confusingly rewarded with an incident that appears as if a punishment for her generosity (isolated as it may be). “I’m so sick of people trying to protect me.”

Is there a lesson to be learned? Is there a message being imparted? Do good deeds invoke bad karma? Or are these all just random events that illustrate the chaos of adolescence, the seemingly unnavigable trials of internal conflicts in the mind of a confused teenager? Since there’s no real conclusion (and not enough minutes to sort it out), it remains an amusing yet empty sort of project, alluring as it transpires but evanescent once it ends.

– Mike Massie