The Power of the Dog (2021): A Brooding Western Masterclass in Repressed Desires

In the shadow of Montana’s jagged mountains, one man’s unspoken longings threaten to consume an entire ranching empire.

Jane Campion’s return to the Western genre after decades away crafts a film that simmers with tension, reimagining the dusty trails of classic cinema through a lens of psychological depth and quiet subversion.

  • Explore the intricate power plays between rugged cowboys and fragile outsiders on a remote 1920s ranch.
  • Unpack the film’s masterful subversion of macho archetypes, drawing from literary roots to challenge cinematic norms.
  • Trace its awards-season triumph and enduring influence on contemporary storytelling in the Western revival.

The Ranch as a Battlefield of the Soul

The vast, unforgiving landscapes of Montana serve not just as backdrop but as a character in their own right, mirroring the internal turmoils of the protagonists. Phil Burbank, portrayed with chilling intensity, embodies the archetype of the self-made rancher, his whipcord frame and sun-leathered skin speaking volumes about a life forged in isolation. The story unfolds in 1925, a time when the fading frontier still clung to myths of untamed manhood, yet Campion infuses this setting with modern sensibilities, highlighting the fragility beneath the bravado.

From the outset, the narrative establishes a rhythm of deliberate slowness, allowing viewers to absorb the minutiae of ranch life: the creak of saddle leather, the lowing of cattle under starlit skies, the acrid smoke of a shared cigarette. This is no gunslinging spectacle; instead, it thrives on implication and restraint, building dread through what remains unsaid. The arrival of Rose Gordon and her son Peter disrupts the brittle equilibrium Phil has maintained with his brother George, setting off a chain of psychological manoeuvres that feel as precise as a chess match played across barbed-wire fences.

Campion draws heavily from Thomas Savage’s 1967 novel, adapting it with fidelity while amplifying its queer undercurrents. The book’s sparse prose finds visual poetry here, with cinematographer Ari Wegener capturing golden-hour light filtering through barn slats, symbolising fleeting moments of vulnerability. Phil’s meticulously braided rope, a labour of solitary obsession, becomes a talisman of his suppressed identity, its intricate patterns echoing the film’s exploration of hidden complexities within rigid facades.

Phil Burbank: The Cowboy King Unmasked

Benedict Cumberbatch’s Phil dominates every frame he inhabits, his voice a gravelly drawl laced with contempt for weakness. Yet beneath the sneers and humiliations lies a man haunted by the memory of a mentor figure from his youth, Bronco Henry, whose influence lingers like a ghost in the saddle. This backstory unfolds in fragments, revealed through Phil’s cryptic allusions and solitary rituals, such as bathing in the river where Henry once swam, a scene charged with homoerotic tension that Campion handles with exquisite restraint.

The performance hinges on physicality: Phil’s slouch, his deliberate invasions of personal space, the way he chews tobacco with predatory menace. Cumberbatch, drawing from his theatrical roots, layers the role with Shakespearean depth, transforming a potential villain into a tragic figure warped by societal expectations. His taunts towards Rose, masking jealousy over her growing bond with George, escalate into a campaign of subtle sabotage—hiding her bottles, mocking her piano attempts—that erodes her spirit with surgical precision.

In contrast, Peter’s quiet observation from the sidelines positions him as the story’s fulcrum. The young doctor’s son, with his delicate features and scientific curiosities, represents an emerging modernity clashing against Phil’s archaic worldview. Their interactions, sparse but loaded, culminate in a revelation that flips the power dynamic, underscoring the film’s thesis on the perils of unexamined masculinity.

Rose’s Quiet Rebellion Amid the Dust

Kirsten Dunst imbues Rose with a palpable weariness, her widow’s resilience cracking under the weight of isolation. Widowed young, she runs a modest inn until George’s gentle courtship offers escape, only to thrust her into Phil’s domain. Dunst conveys this descent through subtle tics: trembling hands pouring laudanum, eyes darting towards the horizon as if seeking rescue from the endless plains.

The film’s sound design amplifies her plight, with the relentless wind whistling through the house like accusatory whispers, and Phil’s harmonica strains evoking a lonesome cowboy ballad twisted into psychological warfare. Rose’s attempts at refinement—arranging wildflowers, practising scales—meet derision, yet her endurance foreshadows a hard-won victory, proving that survival in this man’s world demands cunning over confrontation.

Campion weaves in period authenticity seamlessly, from the faded floral dresses to the rudimentary medicine cabinet stocked with tinctures, grounding the drama in historical texture. This attention to detail elevates the personal stakes, making Rose’s arc a microcosm of women’s struggles in early 20th-century America, where emotional labour often proved the deadliest battleground.

Bronco Henry’s Phantom Grip

The spectral presence of Bronco Henry permeates the narrative, his saddle preserved as a shrine in the bunkhouse, its leather oiled and revered. Phil’s fixation manifests in nocturnal visits, inhaling the scent like a forbidden elixir, a ritual that humanises his cruelty while exposing his profound loneliness. This motif, inspired by Savage’s own Montana upbringing, critiques the bromance idealised in classic Westerns, revealing its darker, repressed underbelly.

Visual echoes abound: close-ups of knotted ropes paralleling Phil’s tangled psyche, vast skies dwarfing human figures to emphasise existential isolation. Jonny Greenwood’s score, sparse and dissonant, underscores these moments with cello drones that mimic a heartbeat quickening in fear or desire, pulling audiences into the ambiguity.

Campion’s direction excels in negative space—what characters withhold speaks loudest. Peter’s discovery of the saddle’s secret transforms passive observation into active agency, a pivot that redefines vengeance not as gunfire but as intellectual precision, subverting Western revenge tropes with surgical poise.

A Western Reimagined for the Modern Eye

Positioned against predecessors like Shane or Red River, The Power of the Dog dismantles the genre’s foundational myths. Where John Wayne strode as unambiguous hero, Phil embodies ambiguity, his homophobia a projection of self-loathing in an era ill-equipped for such truths. Campion, a rarity among female directors in Westerns, infuses feminist critique without preachiness, letting actions indict the patriarchy.

Production anecdotes reveal challenges: filming during New Zealand’s lockdown, with Montana vistas recreated on South Island ranges, tested the cast’s mettle. Cumberbatch’s immersion—living ranch-style, learning roping—mirrors his character’s authenticity, while Dunst’s personal resonances with Rose added raw emotional heft.

The film’s release amid pandemic isolation amplified its themes of confinement and unspoken bonds, resonating with viewers navigating their own repressions. Its Netflix platform democratised access, sparking discourse on streaming’s role in prestige cinema.

Legacy in a Post-Western World

Awards glory followed: twelve Oscar nods, including Best Picture and Director for Campion, cementing its stature. Yet beyond trophies, it influences a Western renaissance—The Power of the Dog paves paths for nuanced tales like Women Talking, prioritising interiors over exteriors.

Critics hail its literary adaptation prowess, with Savage’s novel gaining renewed print runs. For cinephiles, it revives appreciation for slow cinema, rewarding patience with profound payoffs. Collectible appeal emerges in Blu-ray editions with commentaries, appealing to those archiving modern classics alongside vintage tapes.

Ultimately, the film posits power not in dominance but vulnerability, a message timeless as the plains it evokes. Its quiet revolution endures, challenging viewers to confront their own hidden dogs.

Director in the Spotlight: Jane Campion

Jane Campion, born in 1954 in Wellington, New Zealand, emerged from a family of artists—her father a theatre director, mother a writer—fostering her affinity for storytelling. She studied anthropology before pivoting to film at Australia’s Victorian College of the Arts, where her short Peel (1982) won the Palme d’Or at Cannes, marking her as a prodigy.

Her feature debut Sweetie (1989) explored dysfunctional families with raw intimacy, earning international acclaim. An Angel at My Table (1990), a biopic of writer Janet Frame, showcased her command of period drama. Breakthrough came with The Piano (1993), a sensual tale of 19th-century New Zealand starring Holly Hunter and Harvey Keitel; it netted three Oscars, including Best Original Screenplay for Campion, and cemented her feminist voice.

Subsequent works like The Portrait of a Lady (1996) adapted Henry James with Nicole Kidman, delving into autonomy. Holy Smoke (1999), again with Kidman, probed cults and desire. In the Cut (2003) ventured into erotic thriller territory with Meg Ryan, though divisive.

Television expanded her palette: Top of the Lake (2013-2017), a noir miniseries starring Elisabeth Moss, earned Emmys and Golden Globes. She directed episodes of The Dressmaker (2015) and returned to features with The Power of the Dog (2021), adapting Thomas Savage to critical rapture.

Campion’s influences span painting—her mother taught art—and literature, evident in her textured visuals. A Palme d’Or winner for The Piano, she made history as the first woman directing a Best Director Oscar nominee in 1994, winning in 2022. Her oeuvre champions women’s interior lives against patriarchal backdrops, blending lyricism with unflinching gaze.

Actor in the Spotlight: Benedict Cumberbatch

Benedict Cumberbatch, born 1976 in London to actors Timothy Carlton and Wanda Ventham, honed his craft at Brambletye School and Harrow before reading drama at London University. Theatre triumphs included Hedda Gabler (2005) and After the Dance (2010, Olivier Award). His breakout TV role as Sherlock Holmes in the BBC series (2010-2017) redefined the detective, earning BAFTAs and global fandom.

Film ascent began with Amazing Grace (2006) on abolitionist William Wilberforce. Atonement (2007) showcased nuance, followed by The Other Boleyn Girl (2008). As Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything (2014), he garnered Oscar and Golden Globe nods. Khan in Star Trek Into Darkness (2013) displayed villainy, while Smaug’s voice in The Hobbit trilogy (2012-2014) mesmerised.

Doctor Strange in the MCU (2016-present) blended mysticism with intellect. The Imitation Game (2014) as Alan Turing won acclaim, 1917 (2019) a poignant cameo. The Power of the Dog (2021) earned Oscar, BAFTA, and Critics’ Choice nods for Phil Burbank. The Courier (2020) and Empire of Light (2022) followed.

Voice work spans Paddington 2 (2017). Theatre returns include Hamlet (2015). Knighted in 2019, married to Sophie Hunter with three sons, Cumberbatch champions arts funding and LGBTQ+ rights, his chameleon versatility defining contemporary British acting.

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Bibliography

Savage, T. (1967) The Power of the Dog. Little, Brown and Company.

Campion, J. (2021) The Power of the Dog: Director’s Commentary. Netflix Production Notes. Available at: https://www.netflix.com/tudum/articles/the-power-of-the-dog-jane-campion-interview (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Scott, A.O. (2021) ‘The Power of the Dog Review: Slow Burn on the Range’, New York Times, 1 December. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/12/01/movies/the-power-of-the-dog-review.html (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Foundas, S. (2022) ‘Jane Campion: The Return of the Queen’, Variety, 27 March. Available at: https://variety.com/2022/film/features/jane-campion-power-of-the-dog-oscar-interview-1235212345/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Bradshaw, P. (2021) ‘The Power of the Dog Review: A Magnificent, Malignant Western’, The Guardian, 30 November. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2021/nov/30/the-power-of-the-dog-review-jane-campion-benedict-cumberbatch-kirsten-dunst (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Polowy, J. (2022) ‘Benedict Cumberbatch on Phil Burbank: “He’s a Real Cowboy Cowboy”‘, Yahoo Entertainment, 24 January. Available at: https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/benedict-cumberbatch-power-dog-interview-140000456.html (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Collins-Hughes, L. (2015) ‘Benedict Cumberbatch’s Hamlet: A Prince of Infinite Layers’, New York Times, 20 October. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2015/10/21/theater/benedict-cumberbatch-hamlet-review.html (Accessed 15 October 2023).

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