"The Power of the Dog" review — Cumberbatch elevates Jane Campion's masterful, profound western
“Has anyone ever seen what you’ve seen, Phil?”
This film is featured in my Best Films of 2021 list.
Montana, 1925. The Burbank brothers have been ranching together for twenty-five years. They are haunted by the spirit of the late Bronco Henry, the man who taught them the tricks of their trade. George and Phil’s live on the ranch is consistent and predictable as they tend to their immense herds of cows under the shadow of the powerful hills. Their life is consistent and predictable taking care of their immense herds of cows. Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) is content with his life as he clings desperately to the past. George (Jesse Plemons) wants something else: a family, a home, a life apart from the march of the cows, maybe even some semblance of a life away from the wildness of the American West.
That’s when Rose Gordon (Kirsten Dunst) and her son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee) step into the picture. After the marriage of Rose and George, the Gordons come to live on the Burbank ranch. Phil grows angry at his brother and builds resentments with his new in-laws. Tensions burn and bubble as the film slowly tightens its grip on its characters and its audience. The film is a masterclass in subtlety and complexity as it simmers and creeps under the skin of the audience. With specific intensity, The Power of the Dog won’t let you go. After all, it’s the slow knife that results in the deepest cut.
Shot in the Otago region of New Zealand, a whole world away from real-life Montana, The Power of the Dog is written and directed by the legendary Jane Campion, her first feature film in twelve years. The New Zealander was the first woman to win the Palme d’Or at Cannes for her film The Piano (1993), which went on to win three Oscars and gain nominations for five more, including best picture. The Power of the Dog, the return of one of the titans of contemporary international cinema, has made a significant splash with critics and the festival circuit, with Campion winning the Best Direction award at Venice. Campion’s near-universal claim for her latest is most certainly deserved. Campion handles the material, based on the novel by Thomas Savage, with elegance and grace.
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| Kodi Smit-McPhee as Peter Gordon. © 2021 Netflix. |
The Power of the Dog strikes a fragile balance between specificity and ambiguity. There’s detail in the petals of flowers, in the making of rope, and the mending of a fence. However, the events of the film are vague, with the film shying away from every providing a satisfying answer. The performances tell it all as the dialogue gives us more in between the lines than in the words themselves. The film is both wild and constrained. It’s viciously slow-paced but builds into a cacophonic, visceral ending. There’s unspoken anger to the entire piece which bestows riveting, complex energy to every frame and every performance.
The craft of the entire film is astounding in quality and mastery. Every shot is beautifully framed, the score is violent and powerful, and the lead performances are all worth a great deal of acclaim and praise. The cinematography by Ari Wegner flawlessly captures the breathless wonder of the mountains and the serene intimacy of blades of grass. The score by Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood, who also scored the fantastic Spencer this year, is maddening and controlled.
The performances are each so unique and understated. Kodi Smit-McPhee’s Peter is controlled and quiets making him all the more of an unexpected asset to the film. Kirsten Dunst’s collapsing Rose is a wildfire of raw emotional energy and performative prowess. Jesse Plemons, Dunst’s real-life partner and one of the most exciting actors working today with recent highlights I’m Thinking of Ending Things (2020) and The Irishman (2019), portrays the soft and beaten-down George with empathy and grace.
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| Kirsten Dunst as Rose Gordon. © 2021 Netflix. |
The highlight and cornerstone of the entire film is the tour-de-force delivered by Benedict Cumberbatch in his career-best role as Phil Burbank. Phil is an enigma. Cumberbatch’s character is a tyrant and the actor brings an intense, evil energy to the film. Phil is a snake with venom dripping from his fangs. He’s a sick, disgusting man that tries to model himself after the failing machismo that defined the old west, an era that, for the characters of this film, has been gone for nearly three decades. “I stink and I like it,” Phil says one night. Yet he is just afraid of himself as the others are of him.
When Phil stares off into the mountains surrounding his home, he sees the form of a dog with mouth open and teeth ready to kill in the shadows it casts. “Has anyone ever seen what you’ve seen, Phil?” asks one of the ranch hands in awe of the might Phil finds in nature. The film’s title echos the words of Psalm 22. Filled with shame and guilt, Phil is committed to the idea that the purpose of every man is to overcome their own nature starting with his own. Perhaps Phil is the worn man who’s scorned by many and, through years of resentments, has lost what love is capable of doing in his life. “Be not thou far from me” says the Psalmist, but the power of the dog is already at Phil’s door and he’s ready to taste the blood.
The Power of the Dog is ready to drive you mad. It’s cold and unforgiving. The film is meticulous in its craft as it dances on the edge of a knife towards its harrowing conclusion. It’s a film that won’t let you forget it and demands careful thought and consideration. The film revels in quiet ferocity and discontent as its characters slowly begin to fall apart and the score sends out its dissonant chords. By the end, the film has the viewer replaying and reconsidering everything they just saw. I cannot wait to watch it again.
“But be not thou far from me, O Lord: O my strength, haste thee to help me. Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog.”
Score: 5
The Power of the Dog is now streaming on Netflix.
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