‘The Power of the Dog’ Review: Cumberbatch Shines in Unevenly Paced Melodrama [TIFF 2021]
Benedict Cumberbatch and Jesse Plemons are a phenomenon on screen, but the film’s uneven script quickly turns into a sappy theatricalism.
‘The Power of the Dog’ is Jane Campion’s first film in 12 years, since the release of 2009’s ‘Bright Star’, and tells the story of Phil Burbank (Cumberbatch), who runs a cattle ranch with his brother George (Jesse Plemons). The charismatic Phil carries a highly menacing presence, instilling fear in everyone who dares look at him. George is more compassionate, caring and represents what the high society of the mid-1920s would want him to act like. Their brotherly relationship starts sour when George marries recently widowed Rose Gordon (Kirsten Dunst) and moves in at the Burbank ranch. Phil begins to belittle Rose’s son, Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee), constantly bullying him, which torments Rose once he starts to change his heart towards him and helps him ride horses or craft a rope. But, of course, that’s because Phil starts to develop some feelings towards Peter, as he sees the man he once was before embodying the pure persona of a Machismo-filled ranch owner who constantly projects his masculinity towards everyone who dares to question it. It’s an interestingly conceived melodrama from a filmmaker who continually challenges the theme of desire and Campion fills The Power of the Dog with incredible sexual tension and masterful performances. However, the film can’t help elevate an underdeveloped (and poorly paced) script with legitimately compelling drama instead of ridiculously sappy, soap-opera-like melodrama.
Cumberbatch has never been better. Period. The man keeps impressing with every film he’s in. He’s one of the greatest actors of our time for a reason: he never accepts his acting style as a recurring one but constantly improves himself from one film to the next, particularly his American accent, which, to be honest, hasn’t been very good. Suppose you look at the first ‘Doctor Strange’ or ‘August Osage County’. In that case, Cumberbatch has many difficulties crafting a convincing American accent for his protagonists. Still, in The Power of the Dog, he’s able to perfectly embody the evil persona of a Robert Mitchum-esque westerner, from the frightening mannerisms in his eyes and posture to the gruff and extremely masculine accent of the time. His performance, at times, recalls the frightening gaze of Henry Fonda’s Frank in Sergio Leone’s ‘Once Upon a Time in the West’ as he looks upon his victims before killing him, with his eyes being the central element of how his character imbued pure evil and fear. Cumberbatch always looks at Rose (or Peter) with a menacing grin, hiding in “honest dirt” instead of representing what his brother (or society) would want him to be. Society would like him to be as gentlemanly as George, who always provides for Rose even if the mere thought of Phil’s presence makes her want to drown her sorrows in bourbon.
But Phil doesn’t want to be a gentleman who provides for his family; he wants to bathe himself in the dirt he collects on his body and honest-earned sweat in to avoid any legitimate human connection with his brother, recent wife, or son. But that changes once Peter arrives at the ranch again, as he begins to share his human feelings towards him, something he hasn’t done in a long time. All of that is conveyed through Cumberbatch’s mastery of subtlety; a theory given by Hungarian critic Bela Balazs which talks of a character hiding his real feelings through a façade he projects towards everyone. Cumberbatch doesn’t need to tell much to convey what he wants to say; he only needs to look at someone, and everything that needs to be understood in the sequence is done so in that way.
Plemons continues to marvel as one of the most underrated actors working today and shares terrific chemistry with Cumberbatch, even though they seem to be brothers from another mother instead of legitimate blood. What we can see, however, is how much George cares for Phil, even though the feeling isn’t mutual for the dirt-ridden rancher who spends his time horse riding and isolating himself from human interaction. Plemons also shares excellent chemistry with his real-life partner Dunst, but the same can’t be said for her portrayal of Rose. Dunst, who supposedly makes her “grand return” to Hollywood (even though she hasn’t gone anywhere and was great in the Showtime series ‘On Becoming a God in Central Florida’, doesn’t make a lasting impression here. The problem is that her character is barely developed aside from surface-level explorations of fear through alcohol.
As we get access to Phil’s tormented psyche and Peter’s more freeing personality (Smit-McPhee is also excellent here) through their eyes, an expression-filled role doesn’t work for Dunst’s character. Instead, it falters her presence and natural progression. We understand everything we need to know from every character through the way they look at each other. Still, Dunst’s performance feels somewhat distant and straight out of another movie compared to how everyone else acts (even the ones in a few sequences, such as Thomasin McKenzie and the ever-great Keith Carradine). This is why when Rose goes into a secluded alley to find bottles of bourbon to drink it; it doesn’t come off as painful to watch but turns into an unintentionally absurd drama instead.
Campion doesn’t seem to see the difference between a compelling and ridiculously conceived drama, and the further The Power of the Dog progresses, the more dreary it becomes. It sets itself up as a western studying the impact of toxic masculinity towards its central protagonist and turns into a platitude-filled, superficial melodrama instead. None of the ideas through the theme of desire the film explores at the beginning are expanded into legitimately compelling territory near the end and actually finishes in a rather anti-climactic way. As Rose starts to lose it through constant drinking, the film also loses momentum and wastes great talent like Adam Beach and Carradine (even though the latter shares a great scene with Cumberbatch), instead of trying to expand the relationship between Peter and Phil. When Phil shares a cigarette with Peter, you can feel the tension between the two, which was set up at the beginning, starting to alleviate and becoming something bigger than a friendship, but that never gets explored above stares and slowly burning smoke between the two. Such is the stark contrast between an unclean Phil and one who is glistening with cold (and fresh) water after he comes out of a stream, beautifully ripped and ready to become a new person, it goes absolutely nowhere.
What starts as a rather interesting deconstruction of Western stereotypes quickly turns into something else entirely and, as a result, The Power of the Dog doesn’t necessarily soar. Its performances, entrancing score from Jonny Greenwood, and luscious cinematography from Ari Wegner prevent the film from faltering entirely, but it doesn’t take long before this overlong, overindulgent slog turns its interesting ideas into a silly and hollow melodrama with nothing much to offer for the viewers, except for an unevenly paced script and half-baked concepts on masculinity and the toxicity of it towards other people. It could’ve been better exploited if its side characters (Dunst in particular) were more compelling than Cumberbatch, who absolutely eclipses everything else in the film. If there’s one thing the film needs to get nominated for come awards season, it’s Cumberbatch and Cumberbatch only. The rest is sadly, not worth the time.