The Plague Dogs

Synopsis: An animated adaptation of Richard Adams' novel, about a pair of dogs (Snitter and Rowf) who escape from a research laboratory and try to survive in the wild with the help of a cunning fox (The Tod). The lab director tries to keep the escape quiet, but as an increasing number of sheep are found killed, word leaks out, together with rumours that the dogs might be plague carriers...
Director(s): Martin Rosen
Production: Nepenthe Productions
Rotten Tomatoes:
103 min

I think he's starting to pack it in.

Now, Stephen!

2 hours, 20 minutes, 53 and two fifth seconds.

Six and a half minutes longer than Wednesday's test, about 12 minutes longer than the one before that.

It's remarkable how regular the increase appears to be, isn't it?

It'll be interesting to see what happens when its expectation of removal is countered by its physical limits.

Shouldn't wait too much longer.

Shall I schedule the tank for Monday, doctor? - Same procedure as last time.

And oh yes. Stephen, Cambridge are anxious for us to go ahead with the social deprivation series.

We do have a monkey set aside for that, don't we?

Just waiting for the go-ahead.

Right. Then, get it into the cylinder this evening.

Oh, and that tank, Stephen... Better clean it out a little bit.

Ah, well that's for thee there.

Now, get ya down.

Here up, ol' lad. You're not still getting nowhere?

Eh, what's this? Poor little bugger.

Too much for you, was it?

Harry? Harry? - Hallo!

You still mucking about in there?


Well I'm going into Coniston for a pint. Catch you out on the car?

Aye, alright! Just a few more packets here and I'm done!

Can't keep me awaitin' forever!

Just comin'.

Rowf! Come back!

I can't do it. I-... I'll fight.

I'll tear their white coats. Damned white-coats.

It's not the white-coats, Rowf. It's me, Snitter.

Listen. The door is not a wall anymore.

The tobacco-man lit it with his matches.

Can you smell it burning?

I can't stand the water anymore.

When I shut my eyes, the water comes again.

How do you get out? Do you drink it?

Or does the Sun dry it out? Or what?

I don't know.

I hate it, Snitter.

The water's terrible.

The wire's loose here, Rowf.

Along the bottom.

If I put my nose under it, I might be able to get through.

Why do they do it, Snitter?

I'm not a bad dog.

I don't think they do it because they think you're bad, Rowf.

Do you think you're the only one who hates this damn place!?

Rowf. Now I remember.

That's why I came. The door in your pen is unfastened.

We can go through it, Rowf.

They'd only bring us back.

We can do it.

We can get out of here.

It's... It's safe in here.

I don't mean out of your kennel, I mean out of here.

The whole place.

We can do it.

It's bad out there. - Bad?

Think of the water. What could be worse than that?

Hours of struggling in the metal water with the white-coats peering down into the tank, watching you.

And one day you won't get out.

They'll let you drown.

They say "Go in the water", I'll-... - They're not masters.

I had a master once, and I know...

...whatever the white-coats are, they are not masters.

Where are you going?

How did you get loose?

And what's that on your head?

It's smells of the stuff the white coats put over everything.

The white-coats made me better. First they made me ill, and then they made me better.

I've been ill, you know. - Look, flat face. How does the tobacco-man go through that door?

He is usually carrying things.

And he pushes it with his shoulder or his foot, and then edges through sideways.

Let me tell you what happened when I was ill.

First of all, the white-coats made me better, as I said...

...and then they made me worse. I didn't know whether I was coming or going...

...first I was well, then I was ill...

Don't jump at it, Rowf.

Just push.

That's it.

There must be some reason, mustn't there?

It must do some sort of good.

Some terrible sort of disease in there.

That's what the smell's about.

Leave it spilt, old Rowf. Let it trickle away.

It's made the floor sharp, and the blood will run out of your nose.

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Richard Adams

Richard George Adams (9 May 1920 – 24 December 2016) was an English novelist and writer of the books Watership Down, Shardik and The Plague Dogs. He studied modern history at university before serving in the British Army during World War II. Afterwards, he completed his studies, and then joined the British Civil Service. In 1974, two years after Watership Down was published, Adams became a full-time author. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018


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