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Jane Campion's The Power Of The Dog Is A Riveting Must-Watch
The Power of the Dog is an unexpected film, taking its audience on a surprising, complex journey that is so nuanced it would take more than one viewing to appreciate everything about it. Written and directed by Jane Campion, the Western is breathtaking as it explores masculinity in its many forms, peeling back the layers by way of two very different men in the fading rancher life of the Old West. Based on Thomas Savage’s novel of the same name, Campion's The Power of the Dog — her first since 2009’s Bright Star — is unflinching in its depth and analysis, visually stunning, captivating, and bolstered by exceptional performances.
Set in 1925 Montana, the story follows Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and George Burbank (Jesse Plemons), brothers who are wildly different in demeanor and outlook on life. Phil is a rancher by choice, wholly embracing that way of life after being influenced by his late mentor Bronco Henry despite graduating top of his class. The financials and societal decorum he leaves in the hands of George. Unlike George, Phil is deeply cruel, gleefully pushing the buttons of others and bullying them to the point they fear speaking out against him. Enter Rose Gordon (Kirsten Dunst) and her son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee), who work at the restaurant in town. After Rose marries George and moves to the ranch, Phil takes joy in bothering her while eventually taking Peter, who Phil mocked heavily at first, under his wing.
Slowly but surely, The Power of the Dog peels back the layers of masculinity in all its forms, deconstructing it along the way. Phil embodies a lot of stereotypical masculine behavior. He’s got a lot of pride and stubbornness, with manual labor and physical strength being an important attribute by which he defines what a man should be. Peter is the exact opposite — lanky, well-mannered, effeminate (Phil bullies him after learning Peter made flowers out of leftover paper). Phil decides to mentor him in the ways of ranching and manhood, unconvinced that Rose has done a good job. As their relationship evolves, the story shifts, delving further into their identities and the assumptions Phil has of Peter, who quietly listens and learns from the older man.
Campion’s film is subtle, deeply layered in its approach to both men, their views of each other, and what it really means to be a masculine figure in society. To that end, The Power of the Dog provides a measured, profound analysis of its characters and subject matter. As the film goes on, the more disconcerting it becomes. Phil so often feels like a loose cannon, his mean spirit seemingly making him predictable when he is anything but. The tantalizing buildup makes every step of the journey all the more crucial to the film’s finale. It’s almost like an anvil is waiting to be dropped at any moment, and the audience might find themselves holding their breaths in anticipation of what’s to come. But just as a few ideas come to mind regarding where the story will go, the film takes several turns that elevate and enrich the narrative while maintaining an element of surprise.
In addition to its multifaceted storytelling, the Montana setting, with its sprawling hills and wide open space, gives The Power of the Dog a sense of freedom while growing more suffocating to the characters as time passes. Ari Wegner’s gorgeous cinematography — which captures the dusty, muted landscape, the sun glistening across the land and faces of its characters — is a visual feast for the eyes. The ranch is remote, distanced from an ever-changing changing society, with Phil clinging to what was and uninterested in changing, idealizing men like Bronco Henry (whose relationship with Phil remains undefined, adding to the mysterious allure of the film). The score, by Jonny Greenwood (Spencer) is riveting, complementing the unsettling nature of the film that is made even more pronounced through its secluded setting.
If there’s anything to grouse about, it’s the lack of focus on Dunst’s Rose, who takes to drinking lots of alcohol after moving to the ranch. Despite the lack of attention to her character, Dunst delivers a moving performance as a spiraling woman who is unnerved by Phil’s presence. Cumberbatch is in top form, deliberately cruel, effusing enough charisma for viewers to understand why other characters prefer engaging with him over the somewhat awkward George, while maintaining Phil as an unlikeable person. Cumberbatch’s turn as Phil might be a career-best performance. Plemons is very much in a supporting role, his character disappearing often into town and being unavailable to attend to his wife. Smit-McPhee, like Cumberbatch, gives an exceptional, layered performance that utterly captivates. All told, Campion’s film is gorgeously crafted and detailed, emotionally effective, and layered in shades of meaning about masculinity. Mesmerizing in every way, The Power of the Dog is a triumph.
The Power of the Dog had its Middleburg Film Festival premiere on October 17, 2021. The film will receive a limited theatrical release on November 17 and will be available to stream on Netflix December 1. It’s 126 minutes long and is rated R for brief sexual content/full nudity.
