🚨 A MODERN WESTERN MASTERPIECE YOU MIGHT HAVE MISSED — Four years ago, this quietly perfect film flew under the radar, but critics and viewers who found it haven’t stopped talking.

Gripping, emotional, and hauntingly real, it doesn’t rely on gunfights—it hits straight to the heart.

Now, fans are rediscovering it and asking: how did a modern classic hide in plain sight? Full story and reactions are in the comments.

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The Power of the Dog: Jane Campion’s Haunting 2021 Western Masterpiece Finally Getting Its Due

Four years ago, in the shadow of a pandemic-disrupted release and amid a surge of high-octane TV Westerns like Yellowstone spin-offs, one of the most profound and psychologically layered films of the genre slipped quietly into theaters and onto Netflix. The Power of the Dog, directed by Jane Campion, arrived in late 2021 to near-universal critical acclaim—a staggering 94% on Rotten Tomatoes, with many outlets calling it flawless—but commercial buzz was muted. Audiences who discovered it whispered about its raw emotional depth, unforgettable performances, and lingering unease. Yet, it somehow flew under the radar for many, buried beneath flashier fare.

Now, in 2025, with the Western genre roaring back through hits like Horizon and renewed interest in introspective storytelling, viewers are rediscovering this modern classic. Social media feeds are filling with reactions: “How did I miss this?” and “This messed me up in the best way.” Benedict Cumberbatch—best known to millions as Doctor Strange in the Marvel Cinematic Universe—delivers a career-defining turn as a repressed, menacing rancher. This isn’t a gun-slinging spectacle; it’s a slow-burn exploration of toxic masculinity, hidden desires, and quiet revenge that feels both old-school reverent to classic Westerns and uncomfortably real in its human frailty.

The Power of the Dog isn’t just good—it’s essential viewing, a film that rewards patience with devastating impact. Stream it now on Netflix and see why it’s being hailed as a haunting masterpiece hiding in plain sight.

A Return to Form: Jane Campion’s Visionary Comeback

Jane Campion, the Oscar-winning director of The Piano (1993), hadn’t helmed a feature since 2009’s Bright Star. Her return with The Power of the Dog—adapted from Thomas Savage’s 1967 novel—was a triumph. Campion infuses the story with her signature intimacy, turning the vast Montana landscapes (filmed in her native New Zealand) into characters themselves: imposing, beautiful, and secretive.

The film premiered at the Venice Film Festival in September 2021, where Campion won the Silver Lion for Best Director. It went on to dominate awards season, earning 12 Oscar nominations—the most of any film that year—including Best Picture, Best Director (which Campion won, becoming only the third woman to do so), Best Actor, and three supporting nods. It also swept the Golden Globes and BAFTAs in key categories.

Critics raved: Roger Ebert’s site called Cumberbatch’s performance “just what the movie needs,” while The Guardian praised its “suspenseful unease.” With a Metacritic score of 89 and inclusion on over 118 year-end top-ten lists (the most of 2021), it was undeniably a critical darling. Yet, theatrical releases were limited due to COVID, and Netflix’s algorithm didn’t push it as aggressively as blockbuster fare. Box office was modest ($270,000 domestically), but streaming views grew steadily through word-of-mouth.

Plot and Themes: A Subversion of the Western Myth

Set in 1925 Montana, The Power of the Dog follows brothers Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and George Burbank (Jesse Plemons), wealthy ranchers running a sprawling cattle operation. Phil is charismatic yet cruel, embodying hyper-masculine ideals—dirty, skilled with rope, quoting classics—but harboring deep repression. George, softer and kinder, marries widow Rose Gordon (Kirsten Dunst), bringing her and her sensitive son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee) to the ranch.

Phil torments Rose, driving her to alcoholism, while subtly fixating on Peter—a dynamic laced with homoerotic tension and power plays. The story unfolds slowly, building dread through glances, silences, and symbolic acts (like Phil’s obsessive braiding of rope from his late mentor Bronco Henry). It’s a psychological Western, deconstructing myths of rugged individualism and stoic manhood, revealing vulnerability, jealousy, and suppressed desire beneath.

No traditional shootouts or chases; the “action” is internal, culminating in a twist that’s both shocking and inevitable. Campion explores toxic masculinity’s destructiveness, queer subtext (drawn from Savage’s own experiences), and nature’s indifference—mountains hiding “dog” shapes that only the perceptive see.

Benedict Cumberbatch’s Transformative Performance

The film’s anchor is Cumberbatch, unrecognizable as the brutish Phil. Known for cerebral roles like Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Strange, he dives into physicality: unwashed (he famously avoided showers for immersion), banjo-playing, castrating bulls with bare hands. His Phil is magnetic and monstrous—whistling tunes, mocking “fatso” George, yet privately caressing Bronco’s scarf in tender solitude.

Cumberbatch prepared intensely: learning rope-braiding, horse-riding, banjo, and even smoking cigars to toughen his voice. The result? A layered portrayal of a man trapped by era’s expectations, inspiring fear and pity. It earned him universal praise and his second Oscar nod.

Supporting turns shine: Dunst’s fragile Rose earned her first nomination; Plemons embodies quiet decency; Smit-McPhee’s eerie Peter stole scenes, winning supporting awards.

Production and Visual Mastery

Filmed in New Zealand’s Otago region doubling for Montana, Ari Wegner’s cinematography captures sweeping vistas and intimate shadows—sunlit plains contrasting claustrophobic interiors. Jonny Greenwood’s score (haunting strings and banjo) amplifies tension, earning an Oscar nod.

Campion’s direction is deliberate: long takes, natural light, minimal exposition. It’s a film about what’s unsaid, mirroring Phil’s repression.

Why It Was Overlooked in 2021—and Why It’s Resurging Now

2021 saw Western TV dominance: 1883, Yellowstone Season 4. Films like The Harder They Fall brought style and action. The Power of the Dog‘s subtlety—demanding attention, no easy heroes—didn’t scream “binge me.” Netflix released it December 1, post-theatrical, splitting audiences.

But time favors depth. In 2025, amid genre revivals and conversations on masculinity/identity, it’s finding new fans. TikTok reactions explode over the ending; Reddit threads dissect symbolism. It’s on many “best of the decade so far” lists.

Rotten Tomatoes: 94% critics, 76% audience—reflecting its polarizing slow pace but rewarding payoff.

Legacy and Influence

The Power of the Dog proved Westerns can evolve: introspective, queer-coded, feminist-gazed. It influenced films like The Banshees of Inisherin in exploring male fragility.

Campion’s win paved paths for women directors. The novel saw renewed sales.

For Marvel fans: Seeing Cumberbatch unleash primal fury contrasts his suave Strange—proving his range.

Why You Should Watch It Now

This isn’t comfort viewing. It’s unsettling, beautiful, profound—sticking with you like Phil’s rope burns. In a genre often about conquest, it’s about erosion: how repression corrodes the soul.

With Westerns thriving, The Power of the Dog stands as a pinnacle: thoughtful, visceral, timeless.

Stream on Netflix. Dive in—and let it gnaw at you.