Under "The Power of the Dog"

I watched "The Power of the Dog" and was initially stumped as to how to write about it.  This is a long, slow, contemplative melodrama from Jane Campion, featuring several good performances.  It's a western, set in Montana in 1925.  I've read some good critical takes on the film pointing out its treatment of Biblical themes, masculinity, and sexuality, but I think it's best to approach it initially as a collection of character studies of the four main characters.

We start with the Burbank brothers, sweet-natured George (Jesse Plemons) and the much smarter, much meaner Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch).  They're wealthy ranchers who manage a large cattle operation together, with Phil very much in charge.  During a cattle drive, they stay at the inn of a widow, Rose (Kirsten Dunst), and her son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee).  Phil antagonizes Peter, who is bookish and physically awkward, but George is attracted to Rose.  The film is divided into multiple chapters, each focusing on the various relationships of these characters over time.  The film eventually becomes a slow burn thriller, one that doesn't end in any explosive confrontations, but certainly comes to a satisfying and well-earned resolution.   

"The Power of the Dog" falls very much into the category of revisionist western because it punctures the image of the hypermasculine, physically strong, rough-living cowboy in several different ways.  What's interesting here is that Phil is aware of and clearly enraptured with this ideal, embodied by his unseen mentor, Bronco Henry.  Phil is so obsessed that he despises everything that doesn't match up - anything feminine, anything too civilized or genteel, and anything he views as weak.  He bullies George for being soft and fat.  He mocks Peter for his effeminate behavior.  He goes to war against Rose more for what she represents than anything she actually does.  His downfall comes from his inability to recognize that strength doesn't always look like what he's come to expect.  

Cumberbatch's performance as Phil is at the center of the film, and the best thing I've seen him do in a long time.  It makes such good use of his physicality, and his American accent here is much better than his previous attempts.  At the outset, his behavior is so hostile and so aggressive that it threatens to become caricature, but Cumberbatch ensures that Phil always remains keenly intelligent and aware of just how far he can push, which makes him feel much more dangerous.  By contrast, we have Kodi Smit-McPhee, who has always been an interesting presence whenever he's popped up.  Here, he's playing a nebbish with a lisp, and turns out to be hiding a steelier interior.  And the movie works so well because we only get limited glimpses of that interior.  Plemmons and Dunst's supporting work is also very good here, and I was a little disappointed that their screen time was so limited.  

What's so fascinating about Campion's approach is that it doesn't spell things out and the viewer has to piece together many events.  We have a pretty good understanding of what drives Phil, and what his relationship to Bronco Henry was like, but there are tantalizing hints of what Phil was like as a younger man, before he became a rancher.  Peter tells us at one point that he worried that he wasn't kind enough as a child, and his ambitions as a  medical student may be hiding a more worrying side to his behavior.  Then there's the time jump that occurs midway through the film, where suddenly the balance of power between three of the characters has shifted.  This is one of those films that almost demands to be rewatched because certain revelations will make you rethink so much of the characters' intentions behind certain actions.

"The Power of the Dog" is a beautiful film, but one which reveals its beauty slowly.  The pacing is sure to be the biggest stumbling block for casual viewers, especially those who might be expecting a more traditional kind of thriller or crime story.  However, there's such a wonderful exactness to the storytelling, and such a careful control of the mood and tone.  Ari Wegner's cinematography is harsh and evocative.  Campion's characters might be unsubtle, but they're so alive and vital that I was immediately invested in their lives and their mysteries.  It's been such a long time since Campion's last film, I'd forgotten what she was capable of.  It's good to know she can still surprise. 

    

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