REVIEW

Brad Pitt and a Very Good Boy Vs. Alaska in ‘HEART OF THE BEAST’

By Matt Oakes · September 24, 2026

Brad Pitt and his combat canine companion are put through the wringer in David Ayer’s taut survival thriller Heart of the Beast. This economical man-and-beast-vs.-wild drama is a story about rehabilitation and the bonds forged between two damaged souls, beautifully photographed on location in Alaska, with stunning aerial and wilderness cinematography occasionally interrupted by questionable CGI. It’s nevertheless just a very effective time at the movies, particularly for anyone with an affinity for survival thrillers and dogs. Guilty on both counts.

To preface things, I went into the movie with my wires crossed, thinking it was directed by Peter Berg and didn’t realize otherwise until the credits rolled. In fairness, Heart of the Beast is very Peter Bergian, and Lone Survivor in particular: a wounded soldier dragging himself across punishing terrain, the American heartland spirit, the soaring score, no shortage of flag footage, and a subtle strain of not-quite-right-wing-propaganda but definitely Taylor Sheridan-adjacent, Paramount-Plus-coded yeehaw culture. The men are tough, capable, and trained. The wilderness is unforgiving but conquerable by those with clear eyes and full hearts. Ayer makes for a surprisingly good approximation of that sensibility, though traces of it run through his own work, like End of Watch.

Ayer’s filmography has been all over the place. The less said about Bright the better, and his Suicide Squad – despite the allegedly superior Ayer Cut existing and gathering dust somewhere – remains one of the worst superhero movies of the century. Heart of the Beast is surprisingly earnest by contrast. There isn’t much subtext here beyond how people find their way back to life after trauma, and through Pitt’s character and Odin, his very, very good combat German Sherpard, we watch two damaged souls pull each other out of the wreckage.

The plot – working from a screenplay from first time scribe Cameron Alexander – is rote but effectively executed. Pitt and Odin are in Alaska doing some hunting, fishing, and general backwoods gallivanting far from the center of society. Odin is a decorated combat canine who worked alongside James Belmont (Pitt) in the Middle East, sustaining injuries that left him with titanium fangs and a prosthetic paw. When the pair notice a storm brewing, they take off in James’ puddle jumper, only for him to suffer a cardiac event after escaping the worst of the weather and crash-land deep in the Alaskan wilderness.

Armed with a decent stash of supplies, man and dog – now both nursing injuries – have to travel some 60 miles across an inhospitable landscape of raging rivers, soaring mountains, defensive grizzly bears, and stalking wolves to reach civilization. Complications pile up. So do the injuries. The setup isn’t novel and the destination is never left in doubt but watching these two battered veterans rely on each other, over again and again, is worth the price of admission.

Some elements bump against the movie’s otherwise sturdy construction, including tacky flashbacks and a couple of unnecessary instances of Odin CGI. The latter is excusable when the dog is placed in actual danger, less so when it’s used to make him emote, particularly because the real animal is so extraordinarily accomplished at doing precisely that. Worse is the movie starting at the end.

An Indigenous driver (Anna Lambe) comes across a seemingly alone and definitely battered Odin before we flash back to a week earlier. It teases an impending separation and leaves us wondering what kind of Lassie hijinks await, but it also reassures the audience from minute one that the Good Boy at the center of all this makes it out at least relatively unharmed. In a survival movie, that’s a pretty substantial piece of tension to toss away, all to keep the audience comfortable through the rougher stretches of dog peril.

Pitt is borderline excellent as James in what could have been a rigid stoic role. The retired Green Beret has seen the worst of humanity alongside Odin and largely decided he’s had enough of it. The movie offers muted bits of backstory through flashbacks and expositional narration from man to dog, but a much clearer portrait emerges through his interactions with the very few living beings around him. With a weathered, distance kayaker played by J.K. Simmons, he’s gruff, monosyllabic, and distrustful, unwilling even to extend a hand in greeting. Their meeting is enough to understand why this man retreated to the far reaches of Alaska.

With Odin, he’s an entirely different person. When the dog suffers PTSD flashbacks of his own, Pitt kneels beside him, talks him down in a calm voice, and offers a tenderness we assume he would not extend to the rest of the world. That relationship tells us more about both broken veterans than the grainy war footage and explosion sounds ever could. He’s gruff, emotionally locked down, and physically put through hell, carrying enormous stretches of the movie with no human scene partner whatsoever.

And yet Pitt may not give the movie’s best performance. That distinction belongs to Odin, played primarily by a working dog named Uber, who is truly extraordinary. There’s none of that familiar movie-dog quality where you can practically see the trainer just outside the frame waving a juicy piece of chicken around. Odin appears to listen, worry, calculate, panic, and respond to Pitt in ways that make their relationship completely believable. He’s so naturally expressive that Ayer’s decision to lean on CGI for emotion becomes baffling. Uber can already do it.

The production knew exactly what it had. Uber was placed number one on the call sheet, ahead of Pitt, with three of his sons, Seeka, Ryker, and Hondo, also contributing to Odin’s performance. Head Dog Trainer Esther Murphy and Animal Coordinator Andrew Simpson deserve serious credit, particularly given the abbreviated training window. Pitt himself has called Uber “the star of the film,” and he’s not dog-glazing. Uber can act.

That relationship – and Ayer’s exacting direction – is why this otherwise familiar survival story works as well as it does. Heart of the Beast has raging water, wild animals, dwindling supplies, gruesome injuries, and all the other boxes the genre is obligated to check, but Ayer understands that none of it matters if the audience isn’t invested in the two bodies trying to overcome them. Pitt and Uber sell the relationship so completely that the movie can stay remarkably simple without ever feeling empty. Man needs dog. Dog needs man. Both have survived things that left them damaged, and both seem to understand the other in ways nobody else can.

Heart of the Beast is no cinematic masterpiece, nor is it reinventing the survival thriller in any way. It’s a familiar story told with considerable skill, beautifully photographed against the enormity of the Alaskan wilderness and anchored by Pitt’s committed physical performance and one genuinely remarkable dog. Ayer gets in his own way with unnecessary flashbacks, conspicuous CGI, and an opening that gives away more than it should, but the simplicity is mostly a feature rather than a bug. Sometimes a man, a dog, 60 miles of hostile wilderness, and a reason to make it out together more than suffice.

CONCLUSION: A handsomely mounted survival picture about a man and his combat canine companion beating the odds in the Alaskan wilderness, Heart of the Beast doesn’t reinvent the survival thriller so much as remind you why it works in the first place. Ayer proves workmanlike behind the camera things simple and Pitt helps keep them grounded, but it’s Odin the dog who steals the whole movie.