A character study in the guise of a modern western (circa 1925), The Power of the Dog is the darling movie of the current awards season, garnering twelve Academy Award nominations and is the favorite to win at least a few, including Best Picture. It is remarkable that New Zealand filmmaker Jane Campion has found a similar success to her earlier film The Piano, twenty-eight years later. Yet the film itself is enigmatic enough to baffle some viewers and frustrate others. I have very mixed feelings about it myself.
Jane Campion’s western is set in 1925 Montana (though filmed in New Zealand). Two brothers, Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and George (Jesse Plemons) Burbank, own a ranch and complete a cattle drive in a small town where they meet widow innkeeper Rose (Kirsten Dunst) and her son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee). Phil derides Rose and Peter; George befriends the woman, later marrying her and bringing her to the Burbank ranch. Phil continues to ignore or insult Rose; she turns to drink. When Peter arrives from school, he is teased as well, but Phil eventually sees something in the boy that appeals to him, and they begin an uneasy friendship.
That’s about it for the story, except for the dramatic conclusion. It is a very low-key narrative, dependent on glances, pauses and a great deal of smoking to make its points. The story’s power is delivered by its actors; Benedict Cumberbatch is a force of nature, reminding me of Daniel Day-Lewis in Gangs of New York and There Will Be Blood. The others are subservient to Phil’s domination, but Dunst, Smit-McPhee and Plemons (all Oscar-nominated) each find ways to convey their character longings and weaknesses. It is the story itself that raises the most questions in viewers’ minds.
What is Phil’s ultimate goal? Why does he hate Rose so much? When he befriends Peter, is he sincere or does he have something more sinister in mind? Or is Phil reminded of his relationship with his hero, Bronco Henry, and what does that portend for his and Peter’s future? The answers to these questions are nuanced and ambiguous, and will either lead viewers to their own conclusions or confound them with riddles. The film evinces very personal reactions to its dilemmas, which is usually the mark of the best films, and it demands close attention. Is all of this worth twelve Oscar nominations? I didn’t think so, especially when considering its length (126 minutes), but I was able to appreciate its unapologetic conclusion and powerhouse acting. ☆ ☆ ☆. 21 February 2022.