In Jane Campion's elegant adaptation of Thomas Savage's novel The Power of the Dog, nature is a tool for miracles and violence. In 1925, wealthy Burbank brothers George (Jesse Lemmons) and Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) ran a cattle ran in Montana. The mentally retarded George meekly endured the aggressive rant of his Yale-educated but rude brother. ("It's stupid to go to college," Phil ranted at one point.) Their lives revolved around livestock and the company of scruffy men, and seemed deprived of better pleasure until George married Rose (Kirsten Dunst), a homely widowed proprietor who was near the inn. Rose and her son Peter (Cody Smit-McPhee) settle at Burbank Manor, which causes Phil to despise him.
From the power of dogs
The boldness of the original book comes from the barbarians, combining fierce sibling rivalries, perverse love stories, myths of Western masculinity, and murder mysteries in its thin pages. Serious and disarmed George aside, most of the characters carefully hide their secrets in their chests. Phil shows rough masculinity to over-compensate for his deeply buried desire for men. But his cruel mockery of Peter evolved from abuse to mentoring, silently acknowledging their common queer. Campion handles this psychological intensity with masterful control, often reducing scenes to emotional and innuendo fragments. Particularly fascinating are Premons's tenacious but quiet toughness and Dunster's protective hypersensitivity.
The film contrasts tenderness and savagery in many scenes involving animals. In one sequence, Rose gently embraces a frightened rabbit that Peter has brought. The chef's assistant innocently brings a carrot to feed the creature, only to discover that Peter is dissecting its body as part of his medical degree, suggesting that he has more "courage" than people think. Similarly, Phil refused to cover his hands while castrating the bull. In fact, gloves are a valid metaphor. Rose caressed a pair of soft leather gloves. Peter used one of his own gloves strategically. The story pits defenders against numbers, and the most ruthless aren't always the ones who "take off their gloves."
The tight-paced director and Ari Wagner's light cinematography technique combines the character's hidden pain with the stoicism of the Montana landscape. Campion often slowed down the pace of narration, interrupting the image with a stunning mountain survey, sometimes glancing through windows and doorways from the interior, suggesting a limited view. Until the end, it's a delicious game that presents all of Peter's interactions with Phil in a whole new way. It's clear that whether you're showing steely long-range pictures or telling a story, framing is everything.