Benedict Cumberbatch excels as sadistic villainExBulletin

Benedict Cumberbatch is the image of American rugged masculinity in The power of the dog.

Kirsty Griffin / Netflix

.

toggle legend

Kirsty Griffin / Netflix

Benedict Cumberbatch is the image of American rugged masculinity in The power of the dog.

Kirsty Griffin / Netflix

The great New Zealand screenwriter and director Jane Campion has long been acclaimed for her films about the complex inner lives of women, most notably in 19th-century dramas like The portrait of a lady, Shining star and particularly The piano. His new tense and captivating film, The power of the dog, thus marks a kind of departure. It stars a stunning Benedict Cumberbatch as a 1920s Montana rancher named Phil Burbank, who is the epitome of rugged American masculinity.

Phil seems to be one with the earth and all of its living creatures, whether he rides a horse, leads a herd of cattle, or bathes in a muddy river. He’s also a sadist, a monster with fascinating conflicts, and one of the scariest characters you’ll likely meet this year.

The film, which Campion adapted from a 1967 novel by Thomas Savage, looks a lot like a western, full of dark gray skies and craggy views beautifully shot by cinematographer Ari Wegner. But it feels more like a tightly wrapped psychological thriller set on an epic canvas, and it’s full of secrets and surprises that it’s slow to reveal.

We first meet Phil and his brother, George, played by Jesse Plemons, who is his opposite in every way: gentleman, polite, well dressed. The two run a ranch together and for the most part get along well, George enthusiastically absorbing every occasional insult, like “fatso”, that Phil throws at him.

But everything changes one evening when they travel with their men and stop for dinner at an inn. They are served by owner Rose Gordon, played by Kirsten Dunst, and her son, Peter, played by Australian actor Kodi Smit-McPhee. While they are expected, Phil laughs at the intricately cut paper flowers that decorate the table, which Peter does, and then laughs at the boy’s neat and precise manners.

Rose is devastated by Phil’s humiliating attack on her son, and George, who knows all too well how cruel his brother can be, is there to comfort her. They soon fall in love and get married. It’s worth noting that Dunst and Plemons are a couple in real life, which makes the tenderness of their on-screen marriage all the more touching.

George turns out to be a caring and generous husband, even paying for Peter to go to medical school. But he is unable to protect his new wife from his brother’s wrath. When Rose moves into the ranch, Phil fires her as a gold digger and launches a vicious campaign of emotional abuse, leading Rose to depression and alcoholism.

The power of the dog really hits its pace at such times; nothing really terrible happens, but the emotional abuse Phil inflicts on everyone is brutal to watch. Campion brings out the tension with exquisite subtlety, aided by a disturbing score by Jonny Greenwood and four actors who couldn’t be better chosen.

Few artists can break your heart like Dunst, whose face becomes a landscape of pain as all of Rose’s initial happiness evaporates. Plemons is sympathetic as a decent but ultimately helpless George. In some ways, the most intriguing character here is Peter, who ends up coming home from school to visit his mother and again becomes the butt of Phil’s contempt. But Smit-McPhee’s vigilant and intelligent presence suggests that Peter is a more formidable opponent than he appears.

Soon after, Peter and Phil form a strange friendship, with Phil teaching Peter how to ride horses and other cowboy rites of passage. But the motivations of the two men remain ambiguous.

Cumberbatch has always been a wonderful actor, but he just goes above and beyond here. It’s remarkable how easily this elegant British idol, known for playing smart guys like Sherlock Holmes, Alan Turing and, yes, Doctor Strange, slips into the boots and spurs of a man from the Wild West. But without giving too much away, there are deeper and more subversive layers to Cumberbatch’s performance that seem consistent with Campion’s past explorations of the genre.

It’s been 11 years since Campion made a new movie, although in the meantime she has co-wrote and co-directed two seasons of the crime drama series. Top of the lake. It’s wonderful to have him back in some beautifully unsettling psychodramas in which the savagery of his landscapes matches the inner turbulence of his characters. And speaking of landscapes: the movie was actually shot in New Zealand, which does a good job of masquerading as Montana. It’s just one more way The power of the dog reminds us that appearances can be deceptive and that the most surprising truths are often hidden in plain sight.