The power of the dog – A Jane campion movie. A work of cinematic brilliance.

There is an unmistakable stamp on Jane Campion films. They are all beautifully shot, hauntingly slow, have a brilliant star cast, and the stories often reflect visceral, unsaid, emotional conflicts between the sexes. More than anything else, it is the visual detailing of her movies that lingers long after we have seen it. Who can forget those slow and caressing shots of the marshy New Zealand landscapes in ‘The Piano”, and the oozing lush-green wetness that literally drips off the screen into the viewer’s visual field? Jane campion’s cinematic magic lies in her ability to evoke different shades of moods visually first, and then allow the characters to blend and seep into the scene. There is a reason why Campion is considered one of the finest directors of the modern era. She understands the depth, beauty, and possibilities of the moving camera like very few do, and therefore, her work over the last forty years, is a testament to her, outstanding ability to bring the innermost kernel of the story visually alive on screen, and more than anything else, her subtle knack of drawing the viewer gently, without coercion, into the thick of the narrative, giving them an inside-out view of the unfolding drama. I like to compare Campion’s movies to Wordsworthian poems or Vermeer paintings—defiantly romantic, vibrantly lush, richly detailed, deeply sensitive, and aesthetically refined.

Jane Campion’s “The power of the dog” is currently streaming on Netflix, an adaptation of Thomas Savage’s 1977 novel by the same name. This is Campion’s first movie in the last ten years. She usually takes her time making one. The power of the dog is set in the early twentieth century at a ranch in sprawling Montana, overlooking a series of undulating hills that teases the eyes with its camouflage of light and shadows. The story is about two brothers who run the Ranch. They are cowboys, the younger brother Phil (played by the brilliant Benedict Cumberbatch) is rugged, manly, true to the frontier American blood who likes to castrate horses with his bare hands, swim naked and alone in the pond, and twine ropes from strips of cowhides; George the elder, on the other hand, is soft-spoken, cultivated, and refined, in contrast. The 1930s, the period this story is set in, was a period of transition from horses to Model T Ford’s, and Campion reminds us of these transitional times when America was moving away from the soil to the cities, by constantly juxtaposing the animal and the machine throughout the film. This contrast is also significant in the context of the characters in the story – the civilized versus the savage. George marries and brings home Rose and her grown-up teenage son Peter, who is studying to be a doctor. Phil doesn’t take well to Rose. He believes the quiet masculine camaraderie between the brothers is threatened by this feminine presence. The changing contours of the relationship between Phil and Rose, the slow deterioration of Rose’s stability and descent into alcoholism, and the final repudiation and removal of Phil’s emotional stranglehold over Rose, and Rose’s redemption, form the arch of the movie.

The title ‘The power of the dog’ is derived from the Christian tradition, In King James’ Bible, Psalm 22:20 reads, “Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog’. There are various interpretations of what this could mean. Some scholars claim this was a lament by King David to save his life (“my darling” indicates his life) from his enemies, others claim this verse is related to Queen Esther of Persia, and a few more take this to be a prophecy of Christ’s crucifixion. However, in popular Christian legends, dogs represent the forces of evil, the machinations of Satan. Remember the howling dogs in the movie Exorcist, and the black and menacing pet the young Damian has in The Omen, or Stephen King’s popular novel Cujo. Jane campion refers to this verse just once in the movie, when Peter (Rose’s son) is shown reading the verse from the Bible in his bedroom. The camera zooms into this verse. By this time, the viewer has an inkling of what this verse could mean in the context of the movie, without the need for a theological explanation. That is the beauty of Campion’s direction.

What makes ‘The power of the dog” click is the intensity packed into each frame. Every scene is laid out so well: The vastness of the prairies, the masculinity of the ranchers, the physical spaces between the characters that exacerbate emotional warfare, the beauty and solemnity of the landscape that acts a backdrop to the human drama, the brooding sadness in the passing away of a lifestyle, the nostalgia of a machine-free life and its intimate harmony with the rhythms of nature. Campion is a master in portraying the conflict between the sexes. Without any physical violence, she can create an atmosphere of intense unrest and palpable tension. When Phil and Rose accidentally cross paths in a few scenes, we feel the heat, the forces of attraction and repulsion working over a distance. We are inundated by the emotional violence they project, which is far more intense than anything a physical act of violence can ever generate. Both Cumberbatch and Kirsten Dunst have done a brilliant job in bringing it all together on screen.

Like all Campions movies, the pace of ‘The power of the dog’ is slow. Campion never hurries her narratives. Every frame is complete, fulfilling, and meaningful. Her movies are not for restless viewers hoping to pass time on a wintery afternoon. The viewer has to willingly participate in the drama, lose themselves in her spectacular visuals, and become an insider in the story, along with the characters. Only then, will the work reveal itself? Just as great works of literature can leave the reader satisfied and tired at the same time, Campion’s movies demand our full attention.

Highly recommend “The power of the dogs”. This is how movies should be – a work of love, labor, meaning, and aesthetic brilliance.