*This piece is part of our Critics In Conversation series, where two writers offer different perspectives on the same film. Read Wesley Stenzel’s review here.*
Thomas Savage’s 1967 novel The Power of the Dog opens with a graphic description of cattle rancher Phil Burbank’s castration technique. Everyone always wears gloves for most jobs around the ranch owned by the Burbank brothers, except Phil, who “ignore[s] blisters, cuts and splinters and scorn[s] those who wore gloves to protect themselves.”
Writer-director Jane Campion chooses to begin her 2021 film adaptation of Savage’s novel with a different scene. Nevertheless, the act of castration—as well as the gloveless hands that do the deed—remains, albeit closer to the halfway mark of the story. According to the film’s co-producer, Tanya Seghatchian, “Our approach to the adaptation was to boldly filet the book to make it tighter and more propelling for film whilst honoring Thomas Savage’s vision.”
Despite slight variations from the original text, the story’s adaptation rests in good hands. Campion was the first woman to win the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival and the second woman to receive a nomination for best director at the Academy Awards. For The Power of the Dog, she has already won Best Director at the 79th Golden Globe Awards and the Silver Lion for Best Direction at the 78th Venice International Film Festival. With 12 Oscar nominations currently pending, Campion’s latest work has yet to reach its peak.
These accolades are not without basis; despite a slow start, every second of The Power of the Dog is masterfully constructed to carry the weight of multiple meanings. It almost seems like Campion wrote the script for two different movies. On the surface, the film seems to center on a hypermasculine cowboy named Phil Burbank (Benedict Cumberbatch) grappling with his brother’s recent marriage to a woman named Rose Gordon (Kirsten Dunst)—an act that also introduces her young son into Phil’s life.
The story shifts as everyone’s true intentions come to light, culminating in a conclusion that has shocked and confused audiences across the globe (as of writing this review, there are upwards of 20 blog posts and articles focused on explaining the ending). But for viewers who pay attention to each character’s hands throughout the film, the final scenes may make much more sense.
Benedict Cumberbatch’s Western drawl has sparked both ire and kudos along with his second Oscar nomination for Best Actor in a Leading Role, but few critics have commented on the performance of his body—more specifically, that of his hands. Although Phil’s dialogue is severe and his facial expressions unmoving, his hands reveal the romanticism he buries deep within his heart. From the gentle eroticism with which he strokes Bronco Henry’s saddle to the slow probe with which he explores the depths of Peter’s paper flower, the viewer hardly needs to see Peter stumbling upon a certain collection of magazines to grasp his homosexuality.
Phil’s softer queer side seems most prominent when he is on his own and able to embrace his true desires; one of the most beautiful shots of the film occurs when Phil plays with Bronco Henry’s scarf, hands treating the cloth with a reverence that is at direct odds with his day-to-day duties at the ranch. The lighting indicates the warmth and freedom of this particular place for Phil in contrast to the darkness that fills the mansion he lives in. Despite a rocky start in which he openly ridicules Peter’s feminine qualities, he eventually takes Peter under his wing with the firm belief that he will become to Peter what Bronco Henry was to him.
Rose is visibly uncomfortable with the relationship developing between her son and her brother-in-law. At one point, she rises from gardening and watches as Phil and Peter disappear into the barn where Phil spends much of his time. Before the screen plummets into the darkness that embodies Rose’s inability to peek into the pair’s relationship, we see her dirty hands hanging by her sides. The soil traveling up her arms foreshadows the “dirty” actions she later perpetrates in retaliation against her nemesis: Giving away Phil’s cowhides to an indigenous group visiting the ranch. After Phil has taken what is hers (Peter) from her, she finally receives vindication when she is able to take something from him, as well. The Shoshone visitors gift Rose with leather gloves in return, thus protecting her hands—both from Phil’s anger and the terrible act her son will soon commit.
Peter (Kodie Smit-McPhee)’s hands are the most obscured, yet the most revealing. They are often shown covered in gloves, which he wears to conduct several animal dissections. These gloves protect him from the infected cow he skins after cryptically telling his mother that “you don’t have to do this; I’ll see you don’t have to do it.” The audience doesn’t understand what “this” or “it” refers to until the climax of the movie, when Phil discovers what Rose has done with his hides. Peter silently watches Phil rage to his brother George (Jesse Plemons) before making a vital decision that is punctuated by him stripping his gloves off. Here, he removes his protection in order to enter into dangerous territory, where it’s uncertain whether he or Phil will emerge unscathed.
The very start of the film comes to clarity as the final scene plays out. Throughout the 126-minute run time, Peter tells us how his father interpreted him as too strong and unkind, but we don’t truly realize how those adjectives apply to him until we see his smile as he caresses the rope Phil made for him with gloved hands. As our minds revisit every scene in the film, it becomes exceedingly clear that Peter was the one who possessed the most control out of all the characters at any given moment. Now, his opening words (“For what kind of man would I be if I did not help my mother? If I did not save her?”) carries the same heavy weight as Norman Bates’ iconic, “A boy’s best friend is his mother.”
In The Power of the Dog, Campion skillfully utilizes obscure dialogue and non-verbal acting to bring her narrative full circle. However, for those who aren’t interested in analyzing the subtle meaning of minor hand gestures (couldn’t be me), this slow atmospheric watch might be better played at twice the speed.