Whatever the answer to these unsettling questions, Phil’s issues are exacerbated when George announces that he has married Rose (Kirsten Dunst), the timid, widowed owner of a nearby hotel. Not only will she be moving into the family home, but her son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee) will be staying, too, during his holidays from college. And if George falls short of Phil’s picture of how a rancher should behave, the skinny, effete, artistic Peter is far worse. The last time a cowboy was this upset about an interloper in his house, it was Woody in Toy Story when Buzz Lightyear moved in.
It feels as if the simmering loathing could boil over into violence at any moment. But Campion, who wrote as well as directed, keeps us guessing. Like Rose, we’re permanently on edge, trapped in a dark, drafty mansion where we are always being watched by either a venomous brother-in-law or a stuffed-and-mounted animal head. Rather than hurrying along the plot, Campion immerses the viewer in a world that seems creepy to the point of being supernatural, but also completely real. Much of the film is shot in natural light, with plenty of sensual close-ups of sweat and grime. Although it was made in New Zealand, you could believe that its Wild West buildings had been standing on the bare Montana landscape for years. The actors’ horse-riding, rope-splicing and, yes, bull-castrating techniques appear so effortless that their training must have taken weeks of effort. And the characters have the quirky habits and hobbies of real people rather than Western stereotypes: just when you think you know them, you’re surprised by a scholarly reference to ancient Rome, a brief appearance of some doll’s house furniture, or a sudden furious bout of hula-hooping.
What’s unique about The Power of the Dog is that it seems at first to be an epic Western, but it becomes a brooding gothic melodrama in which relationships shift and long-buried secrets surface. Its slow-burning psychological mysteries may frustrate some viewers. But others will be gripped by the way Campion twists the conventions of the American frontier drama: the fact that its jittery score is by Jonny Greenwood isn’t the only thing it has in common with There Will Be Blood.
It’s a film which shimmers with intelligence, and if the plot isn’t clear until the very last scene, well, it’s worth the wait. When that scene arrives, the purpose of every previous scene snaps into sharp focus, leaving you with the urge to go back to the beginning and watch the whole thing again.
★★★★★
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