Hiding underneath the surface of Dogleg is a salute to filmmaking and the creative process. Warren's on-screen character- like himself-has poured years of blood sweat and tears into this film. He's fighting tooth and nail to maintain control of what, at the end of the day, is an uncontrollable beast. It's true when making art that even when the idea has been dissected, everything is planned and prepped, and the stars are aligned, the outcome is always up to fate. More often than not, what finally lands is almost never exactly how we've pictured it, if we could even picture it all in the first place. Dogleg works as a sort of metaphor for this phenomenon. Alan has an idea of how this day is going to go-gender reveal, setup, shoot, cooldown, fin. However, once the day starts rolling, the ball has left his court and Alan can't begin to predict what's around the next corner. The movie that is Alan's reality has taken on a life of its own and as he grasps at control at each encounter, he ultimately lands at the feet of hope and luck. It isn't until Alan relinquishes himself to the Unknowing that he lands on two feet, and that's what creating art really comes down to; just giving in. Creating something, anything, without having to know what the end will look like.
Warren's hilariously unforgiving excursion through LA-though hellish for him-is a pure delight from start to finish and is sure to give a morale boost to indie filmmakers. Though sardonic in nature, there's a charm to its humanity and it manages to resonate where it needs to. It's so easy to walk alongside Alan through the city streets, to sit with him in frustration and confusion, and to laugh at the absurdity of each of his encounters. Like Alan, we learn it's okay to lose control a little bit, it's okay to give in-the sun will set, the party will end, the dog will find its way home.
