The Power of the Dog

Director: Jane Campion
Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Kirsten Dunst, Jesse Plemons, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Thomasin McKenzie, Genevieve Lemon, Keith Carradine, Frances Conroy, Peter Carroll, Alison Bruce, Alice Englert
Running Time: 126 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

For much of Jane Campion's The Power of the Dog, you're wondering where it's all going. There's this uneasy feeling that never subsides throughout, even as it remains too easy to categorize the absorbing Western as merely a set-up awaiting the big payoff. While the narrative's broken into five parts and centers on four characters, the story's really focused on one. He's the antagonist, instigator and individual keeping us in constant tension as we dread his next move. From this antagonist's first appearance, we speculate what his deal really is, and that curiosity never lets up as he tightens his stranglehold on the other characters forced to reckon with his sociopathic behavior, albeit in very different ways. Spending an entire film waiting for someone to snap and anticipating the catalyst could be draining, but Campion milks that for everything it's worth. When the explosion does come, it definitely doesn't arrive how we expect, as do very few developments in this deeply layered script adapted from Thomas Savage's 1967 novel. 

Set against the backdrop of a cold, unforgiving world that suffers no fools (and an equally icy Jonny Greenwood score) the film's about monstrous behavior in search of an explanation where none could ever suffice. It's when an answer starts presenting itself that the story gets even stronger, with Campion showing incredible restraint by presenting this development as almost entirely subtext, letting viewers draw their own conclusions about this man and what shaped him. Similar to There Will Be Blood, it's about an egotistical madman running roughshod, dominating the proceedings and devouring everyone around him. And like that film, we root for his comeuppance, unaware of what those consequences could entail. 

It's 1925 Montana and wealthy, ranch owning brothers Phil (Cumberbatch) and George Burbank (Jesse Plemons) stop by the inn of widow Rose Gordon (Kirsten Dunst), whose son Peter's (Kodi Smit-McPhee) effeminate demeanor and appearance is mocked by the cruel Phil. Considerably kinder brother George consoles Rose over the incident, leading the two to become romantically involved and eventually engaged, with her moving in with him at the Burbank ranch, further angering Phil. As Rose whittles under the pressure of having to impress George's parents and Governor Edward (Keith Carradine), loose cannon Phil becomes even more of an unwelcome, threatening presence in their lives. With Peter coming back from school to stay at the ranch and George walking a difficult line in attempting to control his brother, Rose continues to mentally and physically deteriorate. But unfortunately for her, Phil seems to have found a new friend, further fragmenting an already tenuous family dynamic at the brink of implosion.

Upon first meeting the Burbank brothers, a couple of details are clear right away. Phil's an angry, bitter, damaged man who never misses an opportunity to belittle or insult anyone he comes in contact with. He shows his only shred of humanity when reminiscing and telling stories about late friend and mentor, "Bronco" Henry, who has to rank among the most important unseen characters in recent film, assuming he even exists. Residing somewhere between reality, myth, and legend, it's obvious this mystery man molded and shaped Phil into what he eventually became. Not showing him is smart, as even a brief flashback would shatter the mystique of a character audiences have already built up in their minds as being more impactful than whoever we'd see on screen.

Hints are dropped that Phil used to be somewhat of a respectable member of society with an impressive educational background. He's also touted by his brother as an engaging conversationalist, to the point that his presence is actually highly anticipated by the governor at George's disaster of a dinner party. It becomes even more of one when Phil makes a unfashionably late entrance after being insulted by his brother's suggestion that he clean up and bathe. It's one of the few times George stands up to his brother in any way and he's noticeably weak and uncommitted, walking back the suggestion almost immediately, even going so far as to apologize later for bringing it up.

Brother George definitely has a system in place for dealing with Phil. He simply doesn't, finding ways to work around his deplorable behavior, just taking it on the chin when he calls him "chubby" and even occasionally building Phil up in ways that may not even be true, further encouraging his brother's narcissism and selfishness. And yet George remains the only guardrail and protector from himself Phil has, as ineffective as he often is at the job. With his down home demeanor and outwardly pleasant disposition, Jesse Plemons is perfect in this and likely won't get the credit due to him for carrying much of the picture's fist half. With him providing such a stark contrast as the calm, steady responsible sibling, Cumberbatch's bone-chilling portrayal of Phil jumps out even more. 

Dunst's arc might be the most shocking in just how far Rose falls from how she's initially perceived. Some of this can be attributed to Phil, but red flags hint that it wouldn't have taken much to send her spiraling down a hole of alcoholism and depression. What's impressive about Dunst is how it seems as if she's playing two parts before completely letting go of one, stripping away the functional facade Rose attempted to project upon marrying George. She wrongly sees herself as a fraud and a series of challenges bring out her instability, with only son Peter seemingly in tune with its severity, even while remaining too withdrawn to act. Kodi Smit-McPhee plays Peter's cards close enough to the vest that he becomes just as intriguing a mystery as Phil. In the last act, his performance takes over in ways entirely unexpected, especially considering how unassuming his introduction was.  

Phil Burbank remains the story's big question mark until the very end. And what a finish Campion gives us, as George and Rose kind of fade into the background while Phil's motivations and history become the focus. Even as he continues his abusive, performative displays of toxic masculinity, Cumberbatch still gives Phil these fleeting self-reflective moments of vulnerability where we know there's a lot more to this guy than the show he's putting on. And the scariest part of this is that there's another character who might be just as maladjusted and complicated as he is.         

When karma does finally catch up it's a cruel irony we're too conflicted to know how to feel because Cumberbatch's performance has taken us on such a ride, adding new wrinkles and questions to Phil with each surprising plot development. An emotionally diseased man who doesn't see himself as anyone else does, the entire film undergoes a shift in perspective by revealing how he truly views himself, taking the story to another level and lifting everything around it. And then there's that final twist, so carefully and patiently executed that you may need a rewatch to truly appreciate how all the seeds were subtly planted to get there. The Power of the Dog is a slow, deliberate burn, but for good reason, keeping you on edge waiting to see how a seemingly impossible situation can be resolved when no one seems capable of taking the initiative to stop it.