My review of Titina (2022)
22 August 2025
It shouldn't come as a surprise that I'm always seeking out new animated features to enjoy and draw inspiration from. Last night, it was Titina's turn!
If you haven't heard of Titina, it is a 2D-animated Norway-Belgium co-production about the fox terrier puppy of the same name; about her owner, the italian engineer Umberto Nobile, and the famous norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen, all of whom embarked on the very first recorded expedition to the North Pole in 1926.
I was very pleasantly surprised by this movie. I'm gonna be so honest, I'm very grateful that humans, being humans, decide to bring their cute pet doggos on their historic adventures and crazy endeavors, because that way I get to see feature-length historical/biographical media that's animated. I was never a huge history buff, so it is through movies like this that I get "tricked" into learning more about history. Not that I'm not getting my general information through other means, but it's always really nice and more interesting to see animated takes on it. I don't think it's very common to see accurate history portrayed through animation.
Animation, as an artform and a storytelling medium, is very much alive and well everywhere, in spite of what people may believe nowadays. If not in Hollywood, then everywhere else. If not in big entertaiment mega-corporations, then in small creative teams with a vision. I am constantly reminded of this whenever I see new productions coming out from European studios and artists. Americans may have a hard time wrapping their heads around this, but art and entertainment are not really... an industry here. Well, technically yes, they are, but art isn't regarded the same way as in America. In Europe, art had always been regarded historically as something wealthy royals indulged in; nothing more, nothing less. At least in Spain, things like visual art or music, dance, etc, are still seen more as hobbies than as a real job. We don't have a solid art, music or theatre education in primary schools, those are things your parents are supposed to pay to provide for you, if they so wish. Art education is also mostly focused on historical art, and its conservation and restoration. Anything outside of that, such as animated productions, is still fairly unknown as an industry by the general population. Artists here are mostly working for bigger studios in other countries.
That is all to say: it is always really refreshing to see independent animation studios flourish with their own chosen artstyle, approach and ideas. This movie has a very crisp, thin-lined, bright, solid-colored artstyle that reminds me a little of art-nouveau pieces. Even with barely any texture work whatsoever, the shape language and fine details in the character designs are delicately crafted and very pleasing to look at. No line is ever out of place, and no line is ever dispensable. I am absolutely in love with Titina's design, the shapes of her little snout, which is surprisingly detailed in spite of the cartoony stylization, and the way she carries her round, overweight body when she's animated. In between the animated scenes, actual recorded footage of the real expedition is shown as well.
With these dog-led movies, I kind of never know what I'm going to get; whether the writers are going to make up some kind of character arc for an animal (which would therefore make the animal a person), or whether the animal will be a vessel or a metaphor for something else about the narrative. In this case, they are going with the second option, and the historical tale is all the better for it; because real-life Titina was a dog, and not a person, she is not exactly a character in this movie, but she might be something even better.
What's advertised on the surface as a cute movie about a dog's journey to the North Pole, is actually an intelligently-written window into the lives and unique character of the two human explorers, Umberto and Roald, their relationship with its setbacks, and all the real-life events that led to men (and dog) first setting foot on the North Pole, during italian dictator Mussolini's rule. It's got very real drama and very real adventure. Amidst the story and main conflict, Titina serves as the impartial, curious eyes of the audience. She offers a unique third-person perspective that brings to light the ridiculousness and comedic value of some scenes, the danger and tragedy of others, and, most importantly, she keeps alive the absolute wonder and sense of awe at the new world being discovered. She reminds the audience of the real meaning of exploration, while the human characters get wrapped on their very human problems.
Having read accounts by the norwegian directive team of the movie, Titina is also one of the main reasons they chose to tell this story. Just the fact that she was aboard the expedition at all would have been shocking to norwegians, because norwegian explorers would only bring dogs around when they were useful, such as for pulling sleds, and were sometimes known to eat the dogs if the conditions demanded it. This makes the cute, tiny, lap terrier Titina a really interesting narrative tool through which we can clearly see the differences in demeanor, in priorities, in personality and culture, between the cold-mannered, famous norwegian explorer and the bright and excitable italian engineer. By extension, we see the divide between the two teams involved, and their two countries.
The paragraphs that follow contain spoilers! If you are interested in the movie, I encourage you to watch it first.
I absolutely love the way Umberto and Roald bounce off of each other, and how organically their relationship develops from one-sided admiration, to friendship, to spite, and finally regret. Coming from a norwegian team, one would think that Roald Amundsen, great norwegian hero, would have been shown in a fitting heroic light. However, that isn't the case. During the course of the movie, he nearly becomes an antagonistic force in Nobile's story. According to the filmmakers, norwegians generally believe they've heard and know all about the Pole expeditions, but this particular story about the North Pole, in spite of its historical relevance, is obscured, perhaps for fear of soiling great Amundsen's legacy with his conflict with the italians. The creators believe that the movie project benefitted in this case by being women-led, because they were more drawn to the grey areas and the anger-fueled decisions that these men made, rather than going with a polished, sanitized tale. Given the very human story that resulted from this, I can only agree.
Umberto Nobile was extremely compelling to me. He starts out as this kind, level-headed man who wants nothing more than to create and innovate. He is shown rolling his eyes and scoffing at Mussolini's grandiose, ridiculous attitude, as the dictator rants and raves about the power of Italy, how he is an eagle that won't be deterred by a bunch of no-good rats. Nobile is actually nothing but excited and eager to get to work with THE Roald Amundsen, to make an airship for him, to get to fly with him to the North Pole and do that great discovery together. He isn't in it for the glory at first at all, no.
But of course, Amundsen isn't as great as he was made out to be. As they say, never meet your heroes.
The explorer has a cold demeanor, seemingly no regard for the italian crew at all, not only is opposed to Titina's presence in the ship but actively tries to kill and eat her, antagonizes Nobile's decisions regarding their course and safety on the airship, and completely disregards the engineer's involvement on the mission, taking full credit of their great achievement for Norway and for himself. When the airship crash-lands at their destination due to a physical quarrel between the two of them, Amundsen and the norwegian crew do not even stay for cleanup, and travel right back to Norway for their triumphant reception. When the story gets published in the papers, only Amundsen's name is mentioned. Not a word about Italy.
Honestly, if this had happened to me, even I would be pissed too. This is only aggravated by the fact that, once they're both back to their regular lives, none of the men back down. Their respective declarations about who deserves to be credited for the discovery get more and more vicious, with insults being thrown left and right calling norwegians "ruthless dog-eaters who were passengers at most", and italians "delicate, tropical people who can't handle the harsh conditions of the journey".
This experience isn't shown to have huge consequences for Amundsen, but it completely transforms Nobile. He is now driven by anger and spite as he barges into Mussolini's office, waving the color black and the proud name of "Italia" to convince the dictator to fund a new, all-italian airship journey to the North Pole. This scene is really interesting to me, because not only Nobile is seen completely giving into Mussolini's fascist narrative, but also weaponizing that ideology against the dictator himself (who had forgotten all about the North Pole and was now into airplanes) to get to fund his own revenge against Amundsen. He is even shown in full military uniform as he flies the ship, and is so blinded by the pursuit of revenge that he no longer has time to play or cuddle with his beloved puppy Titina. Of course, his hubris makes him reckless too. During a storm, the airship crash-lands and disappears in the middle of the vast ice caps, leaving the whole crew to die.
Here is when Amundsen really crowns himself as a fearless explorer. Without hesitation, he sets out, saying goodbye as he does, as if knowing he might not be coming back; and flies to Italia's rescue. Even though the storm makes the flying conditions incredibly dangerous and the chance of finding them minuscule, Amundsen still gets on an airplane and sets out.
Amundsen's death was extremely heartbreaking. His airplane is actually shown flying over Nobile's crashed ship. Nobile and Titina watch him pass by, and Nobile is so ashamed of the mere thought of getting rescued by his enemy, that he lets him go without making any effort to signal to him. Because Amundsen doesn't see them and still adamantly keeps looking, the storm finally takes its toll on the airplane, and he dies, unfound, somewhere in the ice.
The fact that Nobile and his team eventually do get rescued, and that Nobile has to live with his former partner's death, is such delicious and agonizing irony.
This is already an incredible tale, but here's how Titina's third-person animal POV elevates the narrative power of this story. First, it says so much without words: We know of the abundance and high spirits in the ship by watching the crew give Titina their meatball leftovers, and baby-talking her, and know of misery and strife when they ignore her; we know of Nobile's kind heart by watching him adopt Titina from the streets and care for her, and of Amundsen's demeanor by showing how he dismissively handles Titina; we see behaviors toward Titina as a sort of reflection of the attitudes toward Nobile and the italian crew. At the same time, though, Titina is so impartial in her animal condition that she's the perfect way to give the audience some distance from the conflict, and see it from a holistic perspective. These men ruined each other, but both should share the blame just as they should have shared their discovery. Finally, Titina keeps carrying the audience back to the very real joys of the journey. If we were to analyze every character in this movie, Titina is the only one who truly looks like she's having a genuine adventure. She's the only one who has looked whales in the eye, and even gets helped by one. She's the only one who is shown to stare in pure wonder as the airship takes flight and the world gets smaller and smaller below. She's the only one during this journey who is enjoying the food and the company, and making effort to approach and get to meet everyone and everything she comes across. While these men bicker and fight about who gets to plant their flag in this undiscovered realm, Titina is experiencing this journey, its wonders and perils, for them. All the greatest and most breathtaking shots of nature are almost exclusively reserved to Titina.
This whole story is made even more amusing and ridiculous by the fact that Titina, the italian dog, was in fact famous at the time, just because she was a cute little dog being carried on an impossible journey. She did feature in newspapers and photographs as a curiosity, and people would pray for Titina's safe return. People loved her, called her The Princess of the Ice. Would it not be fitting if Amundsen had, in fact, felt overshadowed in his explorational expertise by a cute, useless dog, and that had been in fact part of why he was cold toward Nobile? Couldn't all the death and heartbreak had been avoided if Nobile had decided to lean into his beloved Titina's mediatic presence and let that heal his heart, instead of choosing a path of pettiness? Even at the very end of the movie, when an elderly Nobile suffers from a heart attack, he dedicates his very last words to Titina, and gives her some credit for the first time. She was the first dog to step on the North Pole, and that was the truly undisputed fact. The "ghosts" of Titina, Nobile and Amundsen are then seen flying across the pure, white clouds, in an airship and airplane respectively, smiling and laughing at each other like old friends.
Overall, I loved this movie. I think that possibly the fact that this was a moment in actual human history makes the message all the more poignant. Why do humans do anything? Is it possible to work only out of passion for your craft, especially when you're working SO hard to achieve something impossible? Don't humans need love and appreciation as well for their great achievements? Should getting appreciation for oneself overshadow the duty to give your appreciation to your peers as well? At what point is acting in righteous anger not truly righteous anymore? At what point does one get too far down the righteousness crusade? At what point does pride and belonging evolve into ill behaviors toward others? How does individual anger with your neighbor parallel with the intricacies of international conflict? And in the midst of all this, where do human kindness and sense of wonder feature?
