The Kidnappers

In the early 1900s, two orphaned brothers, eight-year-old Harry Mackenzie Jon Whiteley and five-year-old Davy Mackenzie Vincent Winter, are sent to a rugged Scottish settlement in Nova Scotia, Canada to live with their stern grandfather Jim MacKenzie Duncan Macrae and his wife after their father’s death in the Boer War. The boys long for a dog, but Grandaddy is unyielding: “ye canna eat a dog.” This harsh rule colors their stay, forcing the brothers to improvise joy from scraps of affection and the small, secret world they build together. When they stumble upon an abandoned baby, fear of punishment drives them to hide the infant from the adults, and the child becomes a fragile substitute for the animal companionship they’ve been denied. Harry and Davy cautiously shelter the baby as if a fragile treasure, whispering to one another about the responsibility they’ve stumbled into and the risks of discovery.

As the settlement swells with Dutch settlers arriving after the Boer War, tensions simmer between Grandaddy and the Afrikaner landowner Jan Hooft Francis de Wolff, who lays claim to a hill that becomes a central point of conflict. Grandaddy’s stubborn pride clashes with legal reality, even as Kirsty Adrienne Corri—his daughter—navigates her own longings. She loves Dr. Willem Bloem Theodore Bikel, a Dutch-born doctor who came to Canada under a veil of personal mystery and whose affections don’t mirror hers, partly because he believes himself too old for her. The story threads these private yearnings through a larger struggle over land, authority, and the future of the settlement.

The plot takes a sharper turn when the found baby is revealed to be Jan Hooft Sr.’s younger daughter, transforming Harry’s accidental action into a charged question about guilt and loyalty. A local court is held in a trading store to determine Harry’s involvement or innocence, and the boy asserts that he did not know the baby’s identity. In a surprising turn, Jan Hooft speaks up on Harry’s behalf, arguing that no harm was done and that the older Hooft daughter should have assumed more responsibility, while also admitting that his own family’s pressure helped create the situation. The clerk suggests only an investigation into the whereabouts of the schools that could detain children in such cases, and Grandaddy, though stern, is momentarily tempered by Hooft’s defense, a glimmer of recognition of shared humanity amid conflict. The scene ends with Grandaddy privately acknowledging Hooft’s courage and influence.

As the dispute plays out, Grandaddy’s capacity for change becomes a quiet, hopeful thread. He has never learned to read or write, yet in a small, stubborn act he directs Harry to write to a mail-order company to order the red setter they have long desired. The dog becomes a symbol of reconciliation and a counterweight to the losses the family has endured. Earlier, Grandaddy had sacrificed a prized possession to fund the purchase—a detail the boys notice when they observe him walking without his boots, slung over his shoulder to save wear and tear, a reminder of the tough, resourceful life they’re navigating. The moment when the boys learn that the dog is within reach is both heart-wrenching and triumphant, folding in themes of sacrifice, perseverance, and the slow reshaping of a stern heart.

In the end, the family’s longings align with a practical, patient hope. Davy [Vincent Winter] voices a simple, enduring sentiment, “I think we’ll call him Rover, Harry,” signaling a new chapter anchored in shared responsibility and the small joys that family can salvage from hardship. The film closes on a note of tender curiosity about the future, with the boys naming their long-awaited companion and the Grandaddy’s quiet, ongoing efforts to bridge the gap between tradition and love.

• Notable moments include the chilling line spoken by Grandaddy in a moment of fear, and a later, stark reminder from the little boy about not harming the vulnerable. The story blends family devotion, land conflict, and adult secrets with the innocent, stubborn resilience of two brothers who learn what it means to belong to a place—and to each other.

Shall we call the baby Rover, Harry?

ye canna eat a dog

The journey is intimate without losing its wider historical texture, and the film invites viewers to consider how fear, duty, and affection can coexist in a single family, driving both conflict and a cautious hope for a gentler future.

Last Updated: October 09, 2025 at 10:50