The Power of the Dog (2021) A Film that gets Under the Skin and Into the Mind (Review)

At the 2022 BAFTA awards, Benedict Cumberbatch had the dubious honour of being nominated, but rather than winning, he instead collected the Best Director award on behalf of Jane Campion for The Power Of The Dog – which would also go on to collect Best Film. It received twelve nominations at the Academy Awards that year, but would only receive one award which, once again, was for directing, which made Campion the third woman to win that Oscar, and the first woman to be nominated twice – her first being for 1993’s The Piano. 

It’s ironic that Campion would win for a Western, a genre long associated with notions of masculinity, yet it’s simultaneously fitting as The Power Of The Dog is acutely concerned with conflicting ideas of gender. Set in 1924 in Montana, though filmed in Campion’s native New Zealand, The Power Of The Dog also depicts the end of an era – the Old West steadily giving way to modernity, and other forms of order passing from one to another. The film opens with a voiceover from Peter Gordon (Kodi Smit-McPhee), describing that he needed to protect his mother Rose (Kirsten Dunst), after the death of his father. The first images, however, are of Phil Burbank (Cumberbatch) – a dedicated rancher who regularly highlights the importance of continuing with cattle ranching. Phil is contrasted with his brother George (Jesse Plemons), who’s less interested in the family business, and seeks a different life by marrying the widowed Rose, then bringing her, and eventually Peter, to the Burbank ranch. 

This consistently understated tension between the brothers, and subsequently between Phil and the new arrivals, represents change – the passing of the Old West and the march of modernity. While Phil spends the majority of his time outdoors (some of it naked), and astride a horse, George is more associated with internal domestic spaces and driving a car, as well as welcoming guests who travel by train. These modes of transport are placed against the stunning landscape, which is captured in spectacular shots by cinematographer Ari Wegner. This 4K release renders the broad sky and expansive mountains in luscious detail, individual blades of grass and the whites of cow eyes popping vividly, while stark shadows highlight hillsides and human faces alike. 

Within this landscape, and despite the tight focus on the makeshift family, the film is characterised by isolation – Phil against the hills and plains, and Rose within the grand ranch house. The tension between them plays out through uncomfortable silences and duelling instruments, as Rose’s faltering attempts at the piano are quelled by Phil’s more practiced turns on the banjo. Perhaps surprisingly for a western, there are no shootouts or physical clashes at all, the most visceral moments being when Phil and his ranch hands handle their livestock. That’s not to say there’s no violence because the clash between Rose and Phil, and his frequent dismissiveness of George, highlight what a bastard he is – consistently putting others down through micro-aggressions and derision. Cumberbatch leans into the laconic accent and demeanour in a way that’s charismatic, but also emphasises the aloofness of a man who either does not know how, or perhaps does not care, to connect with other humans. Campion’s astute direction reveals key details about Phil’s supressed personality, such as prominent initials, a gaze that lingers on the male body, and his private possessions and activities. Through these largely wordless reveals, the film exposes Phil as a man out of space, as well as time – trapped in a way of life and masculine identity that does not allow genuine expression. References to Bronco Henry emphasise the only genuine connection that Phil had, a close friendship that, like his vocation, is a thing of the past. 

It is all the more melancholic that Phil and Rose remain at loggerheads as she is also clearly troubled, and turns to alcohol as the story develops due to her hostile environment. Dunst delivers possibly a career best performance (at least until Civil War), her pain expressed through her eyes and often stumbling movements. Lack of verbal expression is a common theme here as George is equally impassive, Plemons’ soft-spoken, halting delivery at odds with his imposing physique, while Peter is a study in slow-paced reveals.

We first encounter Peter delicately cutting up pieces of paper to make decorative flowers – an act that earns him ridicule from Phil. Yet this dexterity proves relevant as Peter studies to become a surgeon, and his arrival at the ranch is another instance of modern science and understanding creeping into Phil’s fortress of tradition. Peter’s career plans lead to some distressing scenes involving rabbits, as well as more sinister developments, but the relationship that grows between Phil and Peter offers the only genuine warmth in the film. This bond can be understood as two lonely souls connecting due to that very isolation, Peter as the son Phil will never have, and Phil becoming something of a father figure to the young man who has lost his, especially as George shows little interest in his stepson. 

The concern over which people to connect to is a recurring theme in the film, and for all the references to George as ‘Fatso’, Phil clearly holds his bond with his brother very closely, so when George marries Rose, Phil seeks another connection with Peter. Male homosocial connections are typical in Westerns (think of Ethan and Martin in The Searchers, Chance and Dude in Rio Bravo, Harry and Arch in The Hired Hand, the eponymous gang in The Wild Bunch, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Marcus and Gil in Hell Or Highwater, the James gang in various depictions), but The Power Of The Dog’s privileging of these connections over heteronormative marriage adds a further layer to its investigation of masculinity and male identity. The film’s coda presents an affirmation of one type of relationship over another – which should be reassuring, but it’s presented visually and without verbal explication as somewhat sinister. 

The Power Of The Dog is an odd film that’s melancholic and elegiac, but also beautiful and unsettling. It’s a testament to the various elements at work, from the understated performances and Wegner’s expansive cinematography, to the delicate score by Jonny Greenwood and Grant Major’s intricate production design – Campion’s nuanced writing and astute direction bringing the potentially disparate narrative and thematic elements together impressively. It’s a film that gets under the skin and into the mind, posing questions that linger, and perspectives that may well alter over time, demonstrating an appropriately pervasive and persistent power. 

This Criterion Collection release features a gorgeous 4K digital master that was approved by director Jane Campion and presented in Dolby Vision HDR, together with a Blu-ray version of the film along that’s complete with special features. These include an interview with Campion about the making of the film; interviews with members of the cast and crew; behind-the-scenes footage captured on location in New Zealand; a further interview with Campion and composer Greenwood about the film’s score; and a conversation between Campion, director of photography Ari Wegner, actor Kirsten Dunst, and producer Tanya Seghatchian, moderated by filmmaker Tamara Jenkins. There’s also a new interview with novelist Annie Proulx, a trailer, English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing along with English descriptive audio, and an essay by film critic Amy Taubin. 

Vincent’s Archive – The Power of the Dog

The Power of the Dog is also available to Watch on Netflix