The Power of the Dog

I’ve seen The Power of the Dog twice now and I am fairly confident saying that it is my favourite or at least one of my absolute favourite things to be released this year. I was quite honestly blown away by it from my first viewing. Based on the 1960s novel of the same name, this is one of the most dense and fascinating cinematic texts I’ve ever seen. It is loaded with layers upon layers of intricate subtext, metaphor and visual symbolism that will take multiple viewings to fully decipher. It is incredibly restrained in its dialogue and surface text, begging to be examined closely where its many stunning and depraved intricacies may reveal themselves. It’s not about what is spoken, but rather what is unspoken. It’s the stolen stares and silent reactions between sentences. In this calculated subtlety it is one of the greatest inquiries into masculinity and commentaries on destructive gender expectations I’ve ever seen. Its ever-shifting power dynamics which Jane Campion knows when to reveal to us and when to conceal from us, and its presentation of characters who at first represent and then subsequently shatter stereotypical archetypes in its twist on a classic western, completely captivated me.

This is Jane Campion’s first feature film in twelve years and it is obvious that she has spent that time sharpening her gaze because this is an absolutely masterfully directed project that shows an incredible level of control and restraint throughout. Ari Wegner’s picturesque cinematography is stunning – a western landscape hasn’t looked as good on film perhaps since Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood. It has an impressive ensemble who all deliver probably career-best performances. Kirsten Dunst is pretty exceptional, although her character Rose is intentionally not the most noteworthy or central element of the film, contrary to what I had expected based on the trailer. I’ve honestly never particularly cared for Benedict Cumberbatch as a performer but he is an absolute knockout here as Phil, along with Kodi Smit-McPhee who despite not being a newcomer to the industry, I had never seen in a leading role and was incredibly impressed by. As Peter he is able to extract a lot of expression from the often very controlled dialogue he is given as I mentioned.

The film is incredibly unpredictable and consistently had me on edge and at an absolute loss about what would happen next, especially as the dynamic between Phil and Peter shifted. Their character archetypes and their relationship to each other which we were initially presented with, without spoiling, begin to contort into something entirely different which weaves between quite a touching tenderness yet also a deceitful brutality. In the end neither aspect seems dominant, rather, we must accept that both facets of Peter’s relationship to Phil can and do coexist. There is a particular scene that takes place between the pair that is probably the scene of the year for me. It’s relatively simple on a surface level as in the plainest terms, the pair share a cigarette while having a conversation. Yet it is so drenched in subtext and is such a climactic moment in their emotional and intellectual relationship, that the first time I saw it I found myself struggling to breathe with angst and anticipation.

If I had to critique this film that I honestly think is nearly flawless, I would say that it is a little slow to start and there are a few sporadic moments of dialogue which are slightly stilted and don’t flow as naturally as others. However, I’m just nit-picking here because once it begins to pace it doesn’t slow down until it reaches its mesmerising conclusion. It’s a film that keeps its cards close to its chest and absolutely demands a second viewing where so much more can then be revealed to you. I found rewatching it knowing the direction it was going in to be such a different and compelling experience for this reason. It is a masterclass in filmmaking from Jane Campion and something I would urge everyone to seek out. I was lucky enough to see it twice in the cinema, however if you’re watching it at home because it is now out on Netflix, I would be wary of the fact that the way it’s compressed for TV screens doesn’t do justice to its cinematography and visual spender as well as the intense attention every facial expression requires. When watching it at home I recommend to sit in the dark, give it all of your attention and allow yourself to silently wallow in the dangerous and intricate entanglement of power, love and violence Jane Campion has served up.