The Power of the Dog
SCREENPLAY: B-
I was never more into this movie than when it was over. I don’t mean I was glad when it ended. It’s a good movie. You’re going to want to think about this movie a lot once it’s finished. It’s like the ACT - you’ll have a LOT of questions, except they’re a lot more fun and interesting to talk about.
Making a film that holds its spell over you after it’s over is a major accomplishment. What’s strange and a touch disappointing is that it rarely held my attention that much while I was watching it. It was only afterwards when I began asking questions and re-examining everything that I became fully engaged. There are many aspects of this movie worth taking a second look at (see the next two categories), but for me, the story isn’t one of them.
ACTING: A-
You would think with barren plains aplenty, Montana would be an easy place for people to get some space from each other. Phil Burbank (Benedict Cumberbatch) is a massive gravitational force of nastiness - the macho, ornery, cantankerous sun around which the entire film revolves. The wiry, introspective Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee) can’t escape him. Neither can the simultaneously strong but wounded Rose (Kirsten Dunst), nor simpleton brother George (Jesse Plemmons). The good news is neither can we, the audience. Cumberbatch’s character - and his performance - are so well layered that you can’t help but giddily unpeel them.
CRAFT: A
Many people will immediately book flights to Montana after seeing the beautiful countryside director Jane Campion captures in this movie, much like how folks flocked to New Zealand after drooling over the exquisite Kiwi landscapes in the Lord of the Rings films. I’ve spent a decent amount of time in Montana. It’s beautiful. You won’t be disappointed if you go, but you should know before buying your ticket that this film is shot in New Zealand as well. The framing, the light, and the languid lingering of the camera breathe life into the desolate frontier, turning it into a character of its own.
Indeed, the film has a knack for turning inanimate objects into characters. Take the mansion the Burbank brothers share. Here’s what living in this house is like: imagine going to Hawaii for the first time expecting sunshine and surf and rainbows, but instead get swallowed up by gigantic dark storm clouds with thunder that claps like an angry banjo. Like Hawaii, the house looks amazing. Who wouldn’t want to live there? Yet its huge size and dark lighting make it heavy and intimidating, not safe and welcoming. It punishes all who enter, and protects nobody.
THE ENDING (Elective Class): B-
Skip this section and go directly to the Final Comments if you don’t like semi-spoilers. Here’s an example (NOT from this movie) of a semi-spoiler: “So really early on, there’s a scene where the main character makes an awful choice.” There’s no real spoiler in that sentence, but it’s still too much info for me. I don’t want to know that there’s an awful choice coming up, even if I have no idea what it’s possibly about! I want nothing!
That’s the level of this semi-spoiler. You’ve been warned.
I lied before. This movie grabs me with exactly twelve seconds to go, not after the credits are done (although it continued to grab me then). There’s a twist. It’s superbly done. I love me a big twist. I feel them in my back, like a shower of pebbles falling, until the pebbles fill up my whole core and finally start rattling around like a maniacal maraca, stopping only once I’ve fully grasped what the heck-fire just happened.
This twist made me feel that way, but it didn’t last. I think that’s because this twist takes the movie I’m watching and turns it into an entirely different one. The Sixth Sense’s twist changes what you saw, but it doesn’t change the essence of the story. Not every movie can pull off that perfect of a twist, but I felt more sore at The Power of the Dog‘s twist than pleased by it. I was into the story it was telling me, and the twist takes that story away from me.
FINAL COMMENTS:
The film has a lot to say about masculinity and freedom. My favorite thing about it is the message about how the tension between “being a man” and being true to yourself can be unhealthy to a tragic degree. Its story is told in a beautiful setting, translated into something even more beautiful by the camera. Despite all of the film’s artistic triumphs, I respect the movie much more than I love it. It’s like having a master chef cooking a meal that uses ingredients I just think are kind of ok. Or a master architect building me a house that’s not really my style. I can recognize the awesome skill without it touching me deeply. Jane Campion is a cinematic force, a master among masters in her craft. She nailed everything for me except the story. If the story had indeed grabbed me before the end (it didn’t) while keeping me engaged for hours later (it did), we may be talking about a top film of all time.
It’s still a great film that I highly recommend. Maybe the story will grab you more than it did me. If so, you’ll be treated to one of the best movies you’ve ever seen. It’s certainly worth a try.