The Power of the Dog

Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog is a slow paced, meditative drama set in 1920s Wyoming. Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) is one of the last real cowboys on the land. He’s as rough, tough, dirty, can castrate a bull with just a knife and his bare hands in seconds and looks down on anyone who can’t, including his brother, George. George (Jesse Plemons) is the rounder, cleaner, soft spoken and handles the business end of their cattle ranch. On a cattle drive, the brothers and their ranch hands dine at a restaurant owned by Rose (Kirsten Dunst), where Phil torments her and her son, Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee). While apologizing for his brother, George falls for Rose, marries her and brings her to their ranch to live with them. Phil despises this and is sure Rose only married George for their money. Phil relentlessly torments poor Rose, driving her to drink, a habit she despised in others. After being away at school, Peter comes to the ranch for the summer and notices how far his mother has fallen under Phil’s torment. Yet, Phil tries to reach out to Peter. Perhaps he sees a bit of himself in the skinny, awkward young man and wants to help him learn to ride and fit in with the cowboys. Phil even wants to make Peter a rope, and Peter eagerly provides him enough rawhide to finish it. 

The acting in this film is absolutely superb. Cumberbatch does not seem the type to play a cowboy and yet he slips into this role so perfectly. The way he disappears into the grime, torment and hard exterior of Phil is amazing. And then as we see Phil in his alone, intimate moments, Cumberbatch expresses a repressed longing inside of Phil and we understand his motives more. Dunst is beautifully raw as a widowed mother who lives in torment, grows more and more unsure of herself and turns to drinking to cope. Every scene with the piano is so emotional and feels more and more raw as that plot arc moves.   Plemons’s character becomes an intriguing opposite to Cumberbatch’s Phil, clean, quiet and trying to please everyone around him and yet looking away, or perhaps blissfully unaware of the real issues lurking around him. 

One of the biggest surprises in this film is Kodi Smit-McPhee. This feels like his first big, complex role as an adult and he nails it. On the surface, he shows this perfect mix of being a loner, out of place and in need of a strong male role model. Yet, hiding underneath he shows that Peter is cold, methodical and smarter than he lets on. I don’t know if Kodi will win an Oscar, especially since he is younger, but I’m excited to see what else he’ll do in his career. 

The Power of the Dog is currently nominated for an impressive twelve Academy Awards. They include best cinematography, film editing, original score, sound, adapted screenplay and production design. Benedict Cumberbatch earned his second nomination for lead actor. Kirsten Dunst earned her first nomination as supporting actress. Jesse Plemons and Koki Smit-McPhee both earned their first Oscar nominations, both for supporting actor. And Jane Campion became the first woman nominated twice for Best Director. Her first nomination for her 1993 film, The Piano. This long list of nominations (the most of any film this year) shows just how magnificent this film is.

I implore you to try to watch The Power of the Dog in a theater or in a completely undistracted environment. A casual viewer who puts on this film as background noise while answering emails cannot appreciate the intricate performances and filmmaking here. It is a film you need to be invested in and paying careful attention to in order to fully understand and appreciate the depths of this film. The beautiful cinematography is often zen-like, the careful, calculated moments from the actors are so telling. Very little is blatantly blurted out and so much is hidden, wrapped up in layers and nuances. It’s a wonderful, captivating film if you go into it ready to be engrossed and captivated. 

“Bronco Henry told me that a man was made by patience in the odds against him.”

The Piano

Ada (Holly Hunter) is a mute from Scotland in the 1850’s.  Her father has arranged for her to marry Alisdair Stewart (Sam Neil), a wealthy man in New Zealand.  After the long journey, she, her daughter Flora (Anna Paquin) and her piano wait on the rainy beach for Stewart.  It’s a long hike through muddy forest back to Stewart’s home, so the piano is left behind, against Flora voicing her mother’s protest.  Later, when Stewart sells the piano to a local laborer, George Baines (Harvey Keitel), Ada is heartbroken and rightfully angry, but can do nothing.  Baines makes a deal with Ada to earn the piano back by teaching him to play.  That’s what he wants people to think anyway.  He really wants Ada to play, for him, for herself.  It isn’t long before their “lessons” turn into a passionate affair.

I find it fascinating to think about the relationships a mute woman can have.  Her main portal to express herself to the world is by playing the piano.  Ada and her daughter Flora communicate through sign language and many times Flora is speaking for her mother.  With Baines, a connection stems from listening to Ada play the piano, from there it turns sexual and intimate.  Then there is Stewart, the man Ada is supposed to have a relationship with, but he does not know how to listen to anyone, much less Ada.  She attempts to be intimate with Stewart, she is opening herself, but Stewart and his proper ways shut himself down.

There are more barriers present than the simple subject of being mute.  Stewart and his acquaintances are supposed to be higher class and try to maintain their stuffy, proper upbringing in the mud and rain of the New Zealand forest.  Meanwhile, we see the native people more relaxed about everything, from children’s odd games of embracing trees to sexual jokes.  As I understand it, that’s how Baines is freely able to become intimate with Ada and Stewart literally clinches his butt at one touch.

Writer and director Jane Campion tells this story with a subtle tone that I don’t think any male director could articulate like she does.  The relationships between Ada, Baines and Stewart could have been interpreted completely different from a male perspective.  Except possibly Flora, no characters have any ill motives and any wrong-doing was in passion.  The character of Baines is especially well crafted, one false move and he could have easily fallen from the one man who can understand Ada to just that creepy guy who walks around the piano naked for far too long.

Hunter and Paquin both won Oscars for their roles as mother and daughter.  For Hunter, she didn’t say a word (except in a distant voice-over), but instead her face, her actions the passion she can bring to the screen won the award.  On the other hand, young Paquin pulled off an amazingly beautiful Scottish accent for Flora and depicted a confused girl whose foolish cunning unknowingly causes tragedy wonderfully.

The Piano is a quietly haunting film full of sexual nature and other thought provoking themes.  I don’t imagine many men really enjoying this film, I doubt my husband would have made it past Keitel strolling nude around the piano.  However, I found it stirring, thoughtful, beautiful and well worth the watch.

“The strange thing is, I don’t think myself silent. That is because of my piano.”