#alisonbruce

Having a film pop on one radar is normally enough for me... I had noticed The Power of the Dog on different lists of 2021 film releases, and of course, as a Netflix user, I saw it listed in my queue, but other than making the list, my interest was not piqued.  Then, earlier this week, the Golden Globes dropped their list of nominations, and The Power of the Dog was all over the film categories, and immediately, the film jumped up my list.  While prepping, I noticed that Thomasin McKenzie was a member of the cast, and after her performance in Last Night in Soho, I was fully hooked and on board for a viewing.

Maybe it’s just due to the fact that the Old West is a long bygone era, but outside of the highly stylized films in the Western genre, most Western movies have an ingrained sense of tension baked into them... perhaps it’s due to the sense of despair that comes with living by your wits in a world of have-nots, or perhaps it’s due to the built-in patriarchal code of ethics that comes with the gunslinger and cowboy era, but even the most mundane goings on feel potentially explosive.  That being said, there is something about The Power of the Dog that encompasses this aspect of the Western in spades, and all of this is present from the opening moments based on a combination of how the story arc that Benedict Cumberbatch, Jesse Plemons and Kirsten Dunst share is set up both visually and purely based on physicality.  As the narrative unfolds, we get touches of classic Western aesthetics and practices thanks in large part to Cumberbatch’s all-in sinister nature as Phil Burbank that stand in stark contrast to the modernity and humanity that unfolds in the path that is shared between Dunst’s Rose Gordon and Plemons’ George Burbank.  While George displays good intentions, he seems much more aware of the rift between himself and Phil than he does how much he’s disrupted Rose’s world by putting her in the center of attention spot in a time where not only most women tend to “know their place” (at the risk of using an outdated term), but also by trying to steer her out of the deep protective focus for her son Peter without so much as asking her thoughts on it, which is doubly ironic when considered that the connection between George and Rose was sparked because of Peter and Rose’s shared hurt.

Seeing romantic and controversial aspects of Western life through the lens of Jane Campion adds new shades to the collected familiar tales we’ve come to be familiar with, and her passion as a writer/director shows in the work presented.  The romantic arcs in The Power of the Dog turn the concept of the Bechdel Test on its head by forcing the male characters to be the ones that deal with emotional waves on a raw and visceral level, while leaving Rose Gordon to be the tragic figure that falls apart under the weight of expectations and pressure.  George Burbank is propped up as the male of the future who is seemingly in-touch with his manhood and femininity, while Phil is put forth as a more stereotypical male figure who is unable to face their deep-rooted issues, and therefore, is prone to misplacing their aggression by way of verbal and physical lashing out.  In light of these initial setups, Peter Gordon is brought into the picture as a literal slap in the face to Phil based on how in-touch he is with himself at such a young age, and from Phil’s perspective, how the characteristics that Peter cherishes fly in the face of the male image.  Based on the triangular setup of the main leads with Phil as a satellite element, layers upon layers of conflict and tension emerges that not only brings the viewer lots of discovery, but creates a rewarding narrative ripple effect that moves the story forward. 

One of the immediate standout aspects of the film is the cinematography of Ari Wegner, whose highly stylized plains photography, multi-level focused wide shots and deeply uncomfortable close-ups not only capture beauty, but fuel tension right from the beginning, even when one can’t put their finger on what they should be uneasy about.  The score goes great lengths in keeping the tension palatable as well, with alternating small groupings of instruments and solo offerings that hit dissonant notes doing much of the heavy lifting while sparse symphonic interjections do the bridgework.  The Power of the Dog has some of the strongest capture of natural lighting and candle-based lighting that I’ve seen and years, and when night falls (or we find ourselves in less fortunate locations), the work done with shadows and sparse lighting is downright phenomenal.  While this film dwells in more of a low key world outside of the outlaw life, it must be noted how elaborate the costuming, hair and make-up is in the appropriate areas, with just as much focus given on the cowboy costuming in order to create a natural order that is immediately recognizable upon sight.  Breaking the film up into chapters helps pace things out beautifully, allowing for each particular element to get weighted moments before they shift into both predictable and unforeseeable directions.

Benedict Cumberbatch turns in one of the most moving and dynamic performances of the year, straddling the fence perfectly between posturing male toxicity and a man deeply afraid to face a true nature he tries to inwardly embrace while hiding it outwardly based on his societal positioning.  Jesse Plemons helps to fade the initial heat off of the Cumberbatch arc by playing the sympathetic white knight with an honest nature that is sadly unaware of any damage he does that doesn’t impact his pocket.  Kirsten Dunst goes to pieces under the pressure of expectation in a secret manner while displaying innate motherly instincts in the hopes of protecting her character’s son.  Kodi Smit-McPhee exudes shades of youthful innocence, but much like the motherly character Dunst portrays, McPhee’s son characterization also hides much of his truth beneath a public veneer that is partly self-aware and partly based on self-protection.  Genevieve Lemon and Thomasin McKenzie bring light touches of comedic joy to a deeply moody household.  The cast is rounded out by brief appearances for characters that hold weight in the Burbank world, including Keith Carradine, Frances Conroy, Peter Carroll, Alison Bruce, Sean Keenan, Adam Beach, Maeson Stone Skuccedal, Alice Englert and many more.