One marriage, two reviews: The Power of the Dog

The Power of the Dog. Photo / Netflix

Greg and Zanna consider what it means to be a man.

SCORES (for Greg)
Confidence: 5
Competence: 0

SHE SAW

There are two reasons I shouldn't be reviewing The Power of the Dog: One, I spent a good portion of the movie trying to figure out where precisely in the South Island it was filmed and pondering whether it was really pulling off 1920s Montana vibes and, two, I googled "The Power of the Dog explained" afterwards. I desperately wanted the internet to assure me that I got it.

It's a dark and absorbing film that has you trying to make sense of everything and questioning everyone right up until the final minutes (unless of course you've read the book). The story follows cattle ranching brothers Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and George (Jesse Plemons). George, a gentle, refined man, marries the widowed innkeeper, Rose (Kirsten Dunst), who moves to the ranch with her waifish son Peter, much to Phil's disgust. Phil is the epitome of toxic masculinity - needlessly aggressive and cruel, particularly towards Peter. Eventually, however, Phil and Peter form an unlikely bond with sexual undertones and the root of Phil's aggression starts to quietly reveal itself.

It's a slow film, with a menacing quality, that examines the spectrum of masculinity and how dangerous it can be. Like The Piano, the score - which is composed by Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood - is a key player in setting the tone of the film. It's screechy and string-heavy and makes every interaction feel poised on a knife-edge. If it played in the background of my and Greg's conversation about the film, one of us might've suddenly broken a glass. I asked him what he thought of the movie and he told me that I didn't really want to know what he thought, I would just go ahead and write my review and ignore the central premise of this column anyway - our conversations. Then he proceeded to tell me what the film was about with the confidence only a middle-aged white male can have.

Later, when I told him I'd read an article about The Power of the Dog, he told me that was cheating. Cheating at what I'm not sure but I am sure there's nothing more toxically masculine than believing that consulting the thoughts or opinions of others is cheating. It's why Google Maps was created: so no man ever has to admit to another they're not entirely certain where they are or where they're going (#notallmen). As Campion explores in this film, things might turn out better for some men if they let go of what they think it means to be a man and question their beliefs just a teensy bit more.

HE SAW

This is my second attempt at this review. Zanna - who often tells me not to talk to her when she's working - came into the room while I was writing the first one and started telling me something we needed to do for one or more of our children. I listened intently, then, when she was finished, I left the room and went to work elsewhere.

The first review was almost entirely about my increasing affection for eating deconstructed lunches and my subsequent thoughts about starting a high-end restaurant serving the same. After I sent it to her for comments, Zanna, one of the most brutally honest people I know, sent me a text asking, "Can I be honest about your review?" and didn't wait for a response before sending the follow-up: "Bear in mind this is coming from a place of love and compassion," followed by, "I find it a little bit grating and I hesitate to say it but even obnoxious." I knew the bit about hesitating was a lie but I appreciated that she understood enough about my sensitivity to pretend. She ended her text with, "Bracing for blowback."

I went into the shared Google doc, which I could see she was still in, deleted the entirety of the review and started writing things like "The Power of the Dog is a great film with great cinematography, great acting and great backdrops…" She started writing something underneath but I didn't wait around to read it. I selected all, deleted all and closed the document. A minute or so later, she sent me a text reading: "Have you stormed off… digitally?"

I didn't say yes, because when you say it out loud it sounds childish. After a brief cooling-off period, I went back into the Google doc. The only text that remained was a few lines she had written after my departure, suggesting my review should engage less with smoked salmon and more with the movie. It finished with "Especially because this movie is all about masculinity and you're a man!"

That was a good point. I hadn't realised that. I put my hurt feelings to one side and girded my loins to write something worthwhile about masculinity.

The Power of the Dog is screening now in cinemas and streaming on Netflix.