This is my first introduction to director Jane Campion’s work, and I was struck by her practically obsessive attention to detail. That’s why this is a film you need to watch with great care — key scenes are presented right from the very beginning. This makes the film something of an acquired taste: nearly two hours of slow-burning conflict that unfolds and resolves on such a subtle level that all you can do is marvel at the power of cinematic language. Not everyone will have the patience for it. In that sense, it’s a perfect Netflix release — a film made for quiet home viewing without distractions.

Spoiler alert!

Roughness and masculinity are traits that define Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) — and ones he loves to flaunt in front of others, especially the cowhands working under him. But beneath this toxic masculine facade lies a neglected and unloved child. We begin to sense this as we watch George (Jesse Plemons), Phil’s only close remaining companion, drift away from a brother stuck — quite literally — in the past. Once George marries Rose (Kirsten Dunst), Phil begins to resemble a sulking child: bullying Rose for stealing his brother’s attention and trying to get back at her by driving a wedge between her and her son.

Before that, he even writes a whiny letter to his mother complaining that George is involved “with a suicide’s widow.” The emotional peak of this conflict comes when Rose gives the hides to the Native Americans. Phil, on the verge of tears, shouts: “Those were my hides!” — a reaction straight out of a child’s playbook. Speaking of hides, Phil displays them conspicuously all over the ranch, taunting the Native Americans who desperately need them. Later, he burns the hides — if he can’t have them, no one will.

In this way, Campion presents toxic masculinity as something false — a relic of the past. Choosing the dying genre of the Western is no accident. Though Phil pretends to be a rough brute, he’s actually educated and studied literature at Yale. He even enjoys bathing, despite refusing to take a bath for a formal dinner. More importantly, he can feel — as demonstrated in the scene with the silk handkerchief. Alone in his secret hideout, freshly washed, he gently removes the handkerchief from his bag and slowly strokes his body with the soft, smooth fabric.

If you look closely, you can see the initials of Bronco Henry — the man Phil idolizes. Bronco played a pivotal role in shaping Phil’s identity and once saved his life during a blizzard, when the two had to share a sleeping bag to survive. The handkerchief becomes a reminder of that deep bond and of the hidden side of Phil’s personality that he doesn’t show to the world.

Rose’s son, Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee), is the polar opposite of Phil — not just in appearance, but in essence. Beneath Peter’s delicate, feminine exterior (highlighted by his pink shirt) lies a cold, calculating adult mind. Predatory, even. Peter is a master of setting traps — traps meant not only for rabbits, but for Phil as well.

While Phil is capable of emotion, even if he hides it, Peter’s feelings seem artificial. This is hinted at early in the film when Peter makes artificial flowers. “They look just like real ones,” Phil says mockingly — and unintentionally characterizes Peter’s emotions in the process. The paper flowers left on his father’s grave are a gesture of artificial love. It’s no coincidence that Peter later reveals how his father once worried there was no kindness in him at all.

In this context, the figure of the father becomes key to understanding Peter’s nature. Central — because the rope his father used to hang himself, which Peter later cut down, is the very object that will eventually lead to Phil’s death.

Peter’s desire to “protect” his mother is just as artificial as everything else. He does it because “it must be done.” He’s playing the role of a man — and a man is supposed to protect. But that’s not the only role he takes on.

For a long time, Phil believes he is the only one capable of seeing the silhouette of a dog in the hills — the shape that draws him back to memories of Bronco Henry. But Peter’s sharp eye spots the image immediately, during his first days on the ranch.

That same perceptiveness allows him to draw, with startling accuracy, the internal organs of a rabbit he’s caught and dissected. It also helps him easily discover Phil’s secret hideout — the place where Phil stashes his sports magazines. Peter has no trouble discerning Phil’s hidden traits, his secret longings, and emotional vulnerabilities — all of which remained invisible even to Phil’s closest companions. And he will, without a doubt, use this knowledge to construct his elaborate trap.

Peter’s power is the power to shape destinies — nearly divine. This is emphasized visually throughout the film: Peter is often shown gazing down at others — at his father’s grave, at a dead cow, at the car with a dying Phil inside, and at his mother walking arm in arm with George after the funeral.

But why was it necessary to kill?

The fact is, Phil suffers deeply — from the inability to express his true self and from the loneliness that comes with that repression. He vents this inner pain onto others: calling his brother “fatso,” driving Rose to despair, striking a horse, and so on.

Peter, ever perceptive, sees through this. And with his characteristic coldness and resolve, he relieves Phil of his suffering — just as he had previously done with a wounded rabbit. For Peter, there is no moral dilemma. In his eyes, it’s the right thing to do.

At the very end of the film, we see Peter reading a line from Psalm 22:20 in the King James Bible:

“Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog.”

There are many ways to interpret this verse — just as there are many ways to interpret the film. My view is that “the power of the dog” refers to Phil’s influence: destructive and domineering over Peter’s mother, who is the “darling” mentioned in the psalm.

The sword symbolizes a soul-crushing action — such as taking a life. In the biblical text, David pleads with God for deliverance. But Peter takes matters into his own hands and, godlike, metes out punishment to his enemy. It’s a role he likely chose for himself after reading the Bible in advance (there’s a scene that hints the idea of using anthrax came from a book). Clearly, Peter doesn’t believe in divine intervention — that the conflict could resolve on its own — so he solves the problem himself.

In an interview, Jane Campion compared the struggle between Peter and Phil to the battle between David and Goliath. With his victory, Peter proves that intelligence and insight (the ability to “see the barking dog” in the hills) can defeat brute force and cruelty. Another way to interpret the film’s title, then, is this: it refers to the rare ability to perceive what others cannot.

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