Directing: A
Acting: A
Writing: A-
Cinematography: A+
Editing: A

The Power of the Dog won me over in a big, big way—also in a way that makes me very hesitant to reveal too much, especially in regards to the distinct turn the narrative takes about halfway through. It’s precisely that turn that made the movie great in my eyes, which puts me in a tricky position: how can I convince you how great it is if all I can tell you about is within the first half which, honestly, had me a little skeptical? Like, I was literally wondering how this movie was so criticially acclaimed. But, then I understood.

To be fair, it’s clear that not all audiences understand, at least not to the same degree. There are notable discrepancies between critical reactions and audience reactions: an incredible MetaScore of 88 on MetaCritic, where the user score is at 76; an astronomical 95% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, where the user score is 73%. Over at IMDb.com, the user rating is 6.9/10. Clearly the average viewer doesn’t hate this movie, but they also aren’t lionizing it the way critics are. Well, I guess I am just following my own flock here, because I am definitely falling down on the side of the critics—even though I spent the first half of the movie wondering if that was even possible.

Written by Jane Campion, whose 1993 masterpiece The Piano won her an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay as well as two acting Oscars (Best Actress for Holly Hunter and Best Supporting Actress for then-11-year-old Anna Paquin, the second-youngest person ever to win an Oscar), there’s something very fitting about The Power of the Dog’s distinctive tone and visual style. This film’s production comes from a unique position, in that it was put on hold due to the COVID-19 pandemic, but it was already filming in Campion’s native New Zealand before the pandemic hit. Knowing that New Zealand was arguably the safest place on the planet for the first several months of the pandemic, it’s somewhat surprising to realize this movie was filmed there just coincidentally. Besides that—and I apologize if this creates the same effect of your viewing experience—I found myself consistently distracted by the beautifully shot landscapes, as the story is set in 1925 Montana. Who knew any part of New Zealand could plausibly stand in for Montana? There are multiple expansive shots of a roadway winding through rolling hills with distinctively large boulders dotting the landscape. Does any part of Montana actually look like that?

Perhaps it doesn’t matter. The Power of the Dog also has a fairly small cast, another coincidentally convenient thing about it having been shot during the pandemic, and its principal characters are fewer still, only four people: Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch), the central character, is a gruff rancher with a penchant for tormenting virtually everyone around him, but especially his brother George (Jesse Plemons), whom he calls “Fatso”; George’s widow wife Rose (Kirsten Dunst; fun fact, she and Plemons are a real-life couple); and Rose’s barely-grown son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee).

And this is what I’m getting at when I refer to the first half of the film, as it is packed with tension, Phil going out of his way to make life difficult for his emotionally calloused brother, or striking terror in the hearts of Rose or Phil. Curiously, he never does this with physical violence; in fact there’s no violence inflicting onscreen between two people, although there is a bit against animals. More than once I was really afraid there would be, and that was kind of the point: there doesn’t have to be violence in order to stoke terror—only the threat of it. And, more to the point in this story, the violence is of a more mental sort. Phil, a deeply repressed man, has great skill at getting under the skin of others. In effect, he’s a 1925 version of a bully—an incredibly subtle one, but a bully nonetheless.

The thing is, none of this is headed anywhere near the direction you think it is, when the narrative takes its turn. Everything about The Power of the Dog is subtle, and this turn of events is no exception. Tensions continue thereafter, but of a very different sort. There’s a twist at the end that is quite impressive in its subtle execution, considering how fucked up you slowly realize it is.

The Power of the Dog is a bit of a narrative puzzle, and over the course of its second half they fall into place, linking inextricably into each other, with deep satisfaction. This is a superbly constructed film, easily Campion’s best since The Piano, a film destined to be a part of the upcoming Oscar conversation. So much of it could easily have been bungled in someone else’s hands, but this a solid piece of work that only could have come from Jane Campion. I’m eager to tell you more about its revelations, but I must resist, and implore you just to set aside a couple of hours, sit down and watch this film, going in cold: just watch it. It’s streaming on Netflix so getting that far won’t be a challenge. Getting to the end will be more than worth the time.

Overall: A