In early 20th century rural Montana, a domineering rancher ruthlessly rules his roost only for his life to be upended by the arrival of his brother’s new widower wife and her son, who become targets for his conflicted callousness but might also soften his repressed heart . . . or not—in this American period drama adaptation of Thomas Savage novel, from the writer/director of ‘The Piano’ and ‘Holy Smoke’.
After a more than decade-long movie sabbatical which saw her take to the small screen and co-create Kiwi crime/mystery series ‘Top of the Lake’, New Zealand film favourite Jane Campion returns to her bread-and-butter and teams up with streaming giants Netflix to adapt Thomas Savage’s 1967 novel, applying beautifully captured Western concepts to a wistful frontier family drama and 1920s character study on trauma and regret, repression, and the male psyche.
Benedict Cumberbatch stars as callous cowboy ‘Phil Burbank’, an alpha male and backyard bully with a macho exterior, who runs his Montana cattle ranch alongside his more stoic and agreeable brother ‘George’ (Jesse Plemons) with an iron fist. But the already awkward family dynamic reaches new levels of tension when George abruptly marries, bringing his widow local town innkeeper wife ‘Rose’ (Kirsten Dunst) into their home, along with her son ‘Peter’ (Kodi Smit-McPhee)—a young aspiring doctor with a seemingly sensitive personality and an effeminate demeanour for his time and place.
But the initial resentment and psychological mistreatment of his new extended family becomes confusing for Phil when he begins to develop an unlikely mentorial bond with young Peter—borne out of circumstance and self-interest—as the king of the Burbank castle begins to descend from his perch when secrets are revealed and his past begins to weigh heavy on his shoulders, as the developing relationships around him head towards a conclusion which shows his struggling new sister-in-law and ‘nephew’ in a whole new light.
At first glance ‘The Power of the Dog’ may have narrative and stylistic shades of many frontier dramas and Westerns of the recent past like ‘Legends of the Fall’, ‘Brokeback Mountain’, or ‘Slow West’, and of even more classic fare. But with its distinct story and by using restraint, atmosphere, and plenty of mood, Jane Campion really has fashioned her own thing here.
From the first beautifully-crafted frame and the splendid musical cues to match until the last, it certainly feels like Campion—guided by Savage’s novel—is intent weaving together an atmospheric frontier character study with strong Western motifs, so strong that you could argue ‘The Power of the Dog’ is in fact a subtle modernist Western, which further proves that the ole’ genre on which Hollywood was built will never die. This is also a melodrama without the melodrama, mercifully, which makes it a measured and restrained but engrossing period human drama that reveals only what it must, before lassoing the audience up with a turn and hitting them with an almighty sting in the tail, as Campion crafts a subtly subversive and moody meditation on frontier machismo . . . with a twist.
As a dramatic spectacle and experience, ‘The Power of the Dog’ is built on rock solid stylistic foundations as Campion conspires with emerging cinematographer Ari Wegner(Lady Macbeth, In Fabric) to give us a gorgeous looking film shot in natural light, with stunning landscapes of the oh-so photogenic south island of New Zealand doubling for the equally beautiful rural Montana where it’s set, all immaculately dressed in top notch costume and production designs. Yet the way the movie sounds is as impressive as how it looks thanks to Jonny Greenwood. As the Radiohead guitarist and regular Paul Thomas Anderson collaborator underlines his growing reputation as one of the more lyrical and exciting film composers working today, weaving together a hugely atmospheric cello-led string soundscape which is classical in nature but with modernist flourishes, often pulsating and occasionally jarring only to turn melodic and haunting, reminiscent of the work of Gustavo Santaolalla(The Motorcycle Diaries, Brokeback Mountain). All in all a composition for the screen which drives much of the drama and emotion in a film where many of the characters repress such things, and where the pain is largely written on their faces.
While the film’s psychological and social themes—which are key to the narrative and the characters—are clear for all to see, they’re handled and expressed with subtlety and restraint, never coming off as heavy-handed or cliched. Working with the source novel Campion cleverly interlaces a simple yet compelling story with themes which explore the nature of masculinity (some may say toxic masculinity) in a certain time and place, the toxicity and damaging dangers of repressed sexuality and hiding one’s nature for fear of judgement or persecution, and the cathartic release that must be had at some point . . . one way or another. And it’s all made the more compelling by the way she conducts her cinematic symphony, the fundamental and unexpected turns in the story, and of course by the actors who bring life to it all on the screen.
Much has already been made about Benedict Cumberbatch’s performance as the fulcrum of the piece, and rightfully so as he delivers a commanding and memorable leading turn with shades of ‘Liberty Valance’, even despite the British star not having quite mastered his American accent yet. But for us it’s the supporting stars who define the film with more subtle but no less compelling performances as cowed characters walking on eggshells around him, but with something stirring inside. Real life couple Jesse Plemons and Kirsten Dunst do a sterling job at playing a fledgling fictional one under psychological duress, while young Aussie star Kodi Smit-McPhee steals the show as the seemingly fragile but deceptively steely catalyst for the film’s central dramatic turn—one who decides the fate of the titular ‘dog’ from whose power my darling shall be delivered, as the book of Psalms states.
The Bottom Line…
A moody and restrained yet utterly compelling family drama and character study, immaculately dressed in period clothing and soaked in Western motifs, Jane Campion’s return to the big screen is a triumph which masterfully brings together a well-constructed story with stylistic excellence and the performances to match—leading you patiently on an emotional journey which knocks you for six and leaves you puzzled about what you just saw . . . and who they all really were.
‘The Power of the Dog’ is available on Netflix from the 1st of December.
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Legends of the Fall (1994)
The struggles of an early 20th century rural Montana ranching family as war, corruption and tragedy takes their toll, along with the arrival of a beautiful young woman who inadvertently splits the family apart whilst simultaneously becoming a part of it.
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