The Power Of The Dog (2021)

By: Mike Ward on Saturday, January 22

R Running Time: 126 mins

SHOULD I SEE IT?

YES

Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog is a tense and bristling neo-Western drama and one of 2021’s best films.
The performance from Benedict Cumberbatch, as a surly, menacing cowboy, building walls around himself for deeply personal reasons, is perhaps the finest work of his stellar career.
Rare is the movie where nearly everything works perfectly. From Cumberbatch to performances from Kirsten Dunst and Kodi Smit-McPhee to Jonny Greenwood’s score, Ari Wegner’s cinematography and Campion’s focused, purposeful storytelling, The Power of the Dog is haunting, memorable, and unforgettable.

NO

The film skews bleak, since it deals with cruelty, fear, and anxiety as a means of understanding the experiences of these characters within this story. As a result, some may find the movie a tough watch.
Controversy has risen around the film’s treatment of animals, and specifically one scene involving a horse. PETA has called for a ban of the film and it does not include the “No animals were harmed during the making of this film” disclaimer.
The Power of the Dog is sad in many ways, but also enlightening to how people weaponize fear and cruelty to survive. This neo-Western is not necessarily for everyone, but also stands as a remarkably invasive bit of storytelling.

OUR REVIEW

Cruelty as defense. Cruelty as a weapon. Cruelty as a malady. Cruelty as an illness. Everyone is crippled in some way by the pains of the past in The Power of the Dog, Jane Campion’s searing comeback film. Set in 1920s Montana, this story of two brothers attempting to restart their lives takes a number of twists and turns before eatablishing that cruelty can also be used as revenge.

That’s about as much a spoiler as you’ll get from me. The Power of the Dog is an exceptional study in character, something Campion has cherished her entire career. She also refuses to cave to forced sentimentality or creaky embraces. Instead, she lets these characters chart their own path, no matter the cost and no matter the effect.

To say The Power of the Dog is nothing more than bleak, suffused anguish is unfair. Campion has crafted a gorgeously shot, beautifully bittersweet story which has rips of sunshine and hope bursting through on occasion. You see it in Kirsten Dunst’s smile or Kodi Smit-McPhee’s odd discoveries. There’s hope in Jesse Plemons’ newfound marital bliss. There’s even comfort in seeing Benedict Cumberbatch revisit important memories.

Cumberbatch is the centerpiece, portraying Phil Burbank. As the de facto leader of a bunch of rowdy Montana cowboys and ranch hands, he lives at the family ranch he co-owns with brother George (Plemons). George has found love and marriage with Rose (Dunst), becoming stepfather to Rose’s son Peter (Smit-McPhee). Recently widowed, Rose looks to start a new life for herself and Peter, while Peter is understandably guarded and protective of his mother in their new family dynamic.

Phil becomes a source of angst and ferocious with his bullying. He refers to George as “Fatso,” accuses Rose of marrying George for his money and possessions, while constantly mocking and ridiculing Peter for his meek, quiet, awkward personality and his interests in crafting and carrying a lisp.

Cumberbatch is masterful; building a seemingly impenetrable bravado and unrelenting is his abusive instincts. Yet, he seems to have camaraderie with his “boys,” and as we learn later - he himself is reeling from the recent loss of a close friend known as “Bronco Henry.”

Rose is quickly over her head and Dunst remarkably captures the journey from newlywed thrills and novelty to despair and the return of old demons. Quickly, the strain of Phil’s behavior, coupled with George’s selfish wants, turns her towards the bottle. George seems to be constantly away and working, leaving her an exposed target for Phil and the loneliness she never anticipated when marrying George.

If you imagine The Power of the Dog as a sort of human chessboard, with multiple people moving around in defensiveness in the hopes of not getting captured, you begin to see the way the dramatic elements lock together. Still, Campion packs a wallop in the film’s second half, ratcheting up tensions and unspoken truths in a brilliant and precise adaptation of Thomas Savage’s 1967 novel of the same name.

Smit-McPhee is an extraordinary complement to the ensemble. The young actor creates a curiosity cabinet of a human being. You continually are wondering what it is that makes him tick; how his love of crafting flowers, using proper manners, and his burgeoning interest in becoming a veterinary surgeon can somehow co-exist within the same individual.

Everyone is so good, you simply wish the talented Plemons had more to do. Granted, within the construct of the story, he needs to go away from large portions of time. Perhaps the film’s singular disappointment is the lack of finding a way to integrate Plemons more into the film. George is such a striking departure from the other main characters, it is a small shame more isn’t done with him.

Whether or not you see where the film is headed, little surprises continue to arise. Hidden pictures, unspoken understandings, and fervent loyalty all become a part of what these four characters are forced to share and come to terms with. And the person manipulating it all may prove to be the most surprising.

Gorgeously shot by Ari Wegner with New Zealand’s vast terrain standing in for a Montana cattle ranch, The Power of the Dog’s emotional power is intensified with a haunting, moving score by Jonny Greenwood.

Intense and dramatic, but not melodramatic or overwrought, The Power of the Dog embeds into studying the fragility people wrestle with everyday. There is something in all of our lives that can break us. The walls and facades we build to protect us can often become what defines who we believe we are.

All of it is tenuous; as Campion shows us, we can weaponize cruelty to chip away at people’s protections. For those who see their walls crumble, others may smile, step over the wreckage, and look for new beginnings all over again. What’s left in the wake of those moments is for others to put back together. And The Power of the Dog reminds us that cruelty always finds a way to scar and alter us for the remainder of our lives.

CAST & CREW

Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Kirsten Dunst, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Jesse Plemons, Thomasin McKenzie, Genevieve Lemon, Keith Carradine, Frances Conroy, Peter Carroll, Adam Beach

Director: Jane Campion
Written by: Jane Campion
Based on the novel “The Power of the Dog” by Thomas Savage
Release Date: November 17, 2021
Netflix

Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog is a tense and bristling neo-Western drama and one of 2021’s best films.

The performance from Benedict Cumberbatch, as a surly, menacing cowboy, building walls around himself for deeply personal reasons, is perhaps the finest work of his stellar career.

The film skews bleak, since it deals with cruelty, fear, and anxiety as a means of understanding the experiences of these characters within this story. As a result, some may find the movie a tough watch.

Controversy has risen around the film’s treatment of animals, and specifically one scene involving a horse. PETA has called for a ban of the film and it does not include the “No animals were harmed during the making of this film” disclaimer.

The Power of the Dog is sad in many ways, but also enlightening to how people weaponize fear and cruelty to survive. This neo-Western is not necessarily for everyone, but also stands as a remarkably invasive bit of storytelling.