Nathaniel reporting from Venice, day 1 part 2
Day 1 (continued). I didn’t expect death to linger so completely over Parallel Mothers and curiously my opening night at the fest kept on inviting the grim reaper in. The first day of screenings ended with Jane Campion’s The Power of Dog in which death is far less of a subject but clouds the vast Montana skies. But first I took in Madeleine Collins, a French addition of our favorite subgenre here at The Film Experience, Women Who Lie To Themselves™ in which everyone in the film avoids talking about a death they probably should have spent lots more time processing.
Madeleine Colllins (Antoine Barraud)
Elisa already hit the highlight of the film in her brief capsule, but it bears repeating: Virginie Efira! Virginie Efira! Virginie Efira!
The French actress (who is having quite a year: see also Benedetta) plays Judith, a translator in Switzerland, who is brilliantly obtuse about her own effortful compartmentalization as a woman who is leading two lives. She’s so blithely in denial that her double life is untenable that she even flirts with adding a third life a couple of times in the film. Or is she trying to fine-tune the second life and ditch the first? Judith tells a random man in Switzerland hat her name is Margo which infuriates her lover though we aren’t sure why. Barraud’s screenplay and tense direction keep the reason for this double-life, with two young sons with a husband in France, and a toddler daughter with another man in Switzerland, close to the vest. In a lesser film this subterfuge, complete with an initially mystifying cold open involving another woman entirely, might be annoying since it always leaves us playing catch up. What exactly is going on here? But thanks to the film’s very solid construction and Efira’s superbly detailed rendering of a complicated woman, the film feels utterly coherent; It's not a mystery but a character study as a mystery. Some people just don’t want to know themselves, or live with the unfixable truth. B/B+
Power of the Dog (Jane Campion)
Jane Campion’s first feature film in two hundred thousand years (sorry but we've missed her) is an adaptation of the novel by Thomas Savage of the same name. It’s an often brutal story though much of its cruel temper is less physical and expressed through a wicked tongue and warning shots fired with just the eyes. If looks could kill Kirsten Dunst and Benedict Cumberbatch would have murdered each other several dozen times within the movie’s first hour.
The story’s focus shifts considerably as it goes along but begins with two wealthy but very different ranch-owning brothers, miserable intimidating Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch in his best performance yet) and soft spoken but respected George (Jesse Plemons) who Phil always refers to as “Fatso”. Charming. During a cattle drive the brothers stop to eat at a little dining establishment run by a sad widow named Rose (Kirsten Dunst) and her bookish eccentric son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee). Phil immediately begins mocking Peter, calling him “Miss Nancy” and encouraging his ranchhands to laugh at the slightly effeminate boy.
It's a deeply uncomfortable bravura scene -- there's a lot going on -- and we're off to a rocky start for this quartet of instantly memorable characters. Campion has been away from the movies for far too long but her command hasn't faded. The Power of the Dog is often unpleasant and tense in terms of its narrative but that's offset by the sheer joy of watching great cinema unfold. Of particular note beyond the formidable cast is the evocative and moody achievements of its craftmaship. The cinematography by Ari Wegner (Zola, In Fabric), production design by Grant Major (The Lord of the Rings), and score by Jonny Greenwood (Phantom Thread) are particularly stellar.
Though it’s set in Montana and the only animals we see are common farm animals and two very unfortunate bunny rabbits (bunny lovers should avoid), the film itself is a rattle-snake. It slithers around its multiple characters, not always visibly but noisy with threats and warnings. This confrontational nature is especially true of Phil, a miserable but fascinating character who has buried all the beautiful parts of himself (intellect, queerness, family affection) or perverted them until they’re weaponized. In fact, he's literally hidden his sexuality. Future academic papers will surely be written about his secret little forest spot and swimming hole where he skinny dips, its entrance disguised with tree branches.
Or perhaps the film is more of a boa constrictor. Once the four characters are living under one roof in the second half of the picture, The Power of the Dog feels very dangerous -- someone or something is going to get its life squeezed right out. Will it be Rose's sanity? Rose & George's marriage? Phil's secrets? The brothers tenuous relationship? Or any of the actual characters. The possibilities are many and Campion's film is a slippery one, keeping you guessing throughout. The one unmistakable unchanging truth is that Phil and Rose just hate each other. And now under the same roof, they're not just fighting over George but Rose’s son, too.
Campion has always been a master at complex interpersonal dynamics and this was before she even made it to features (see her short film Peel and be amazed). Her features have always been filled with psychosexual texture, too, and The Power of the Dog doesn’t disappoint in this regard. Indeed the only character you might call simple in the matters of the heart, mind, and body (though this isn’t judged but warmly regarded) is George. In the film’s gentlest scene, beautifully acted by Dunst and Plemons, Rose teaches George to dance and he admits to her how lonely he’s been. Rose is instantly sympathetic but her motivations and feelings are a bit cloudier and further blurred by alcohol and depression. Yet the most fascinating relationship in the film is the one between Phil and Peter. Their interactions are so loaded and uneasy (and heavily subject to interpretation) that it sends Rose even further down the bottle. And that’s from vibes alone since she is mostly confined to the house while the men tend to socialize outdoors.
Much will surely be written about the sexuality of the film and Peter and Phil’s evolving dynamic but now is not the time since it will be best discussed once everyone has seen it and can form their own takes. But, like all of Campion’s powerful films, there’s ample meat to chew on. A-