10 min read
Are you man enough: The Power of the Dog/ Kala
So, what happens when a man’s outward display doesn’t quite align with the unrealistic cultural standards placed on him? Men actively avoid vulnerability, ignore personal traumas, or exhibit prejudiced behaviour against certain sects, contributing to more significant societal problems.
Masculinity, Manhood, Manliness- boys grow up well aware of its pressures. By definition, it is the set of attributes, behaviours and roles traditionally associated with men and boys- Courage, Strength, Leadership, Assertiveness, Independence.
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I was groomed to be less sensitive as a kid, yet I felt emotions very intensely. I always thought I was doing something wrong. I felt strong emotions that, I was almost certain, a man was never supposed to know. Men I used to look up to would adhere to the same patriarchal ideologies and social constructs that still persist.
"Men Don't Cry"
In the film Mard (1985), Amitabh Bacchan’s character, Raju, embodies the holes in Bollywood’s Masculinity. In a very eccentric scene, when Amitabh is supposed to be at his lowest, he utters the words- “Mard ko Dard Nahi Hota.” Somewhere beyond Amitabh’s failed attempts at acting completely distraught, you can spot reminiscence of a saviour complex and grave anger management issues. This is Bollywood’s portrayal of the “ideal man”- an arrogant self-absorbed man-child who believes that every conflict could inevitably be resolved with aggression.
Bollywood is just the leading edge into a whole trough of such issues. The entertainment industry just projects a hyperbolic reflection of our society- of all the “manly” tropes we foster and value.
Such remarks are often synonymous with a blatant expression of misogyny. They are usually accompanied by hefty doses of various other forms of discriminatory practices. We, as consumers, often perceive this as a meditation on real life, and some even practice it as a surrogate of authentic relationships and power dynamics.
So, what happens when a man’s outward display doesn’t quite align with the unrealistic cultural standards placed on him? Men actively avoid vulnerability, ignore personal traumas, or exhibit prejudiced behaviour against certain sects, contributing to more significant societal problems.
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Twelve years after her previous release, Jane Campion returns to the big screen with an adaptation of Thomas Savage’s 67' novel, “The Power of the Dog.” It is a brutal psychodrama, with a blanket of a Western, that depicts a riveting state of affairs where temperaments and egos collide to damaging effect.
The film centres around Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and George (Jesse Plemons), two brothers and co-owners of a cattle ranch in 1925 Montana. Phil is the more dominant sibling and often projects a sense of hypermasculinity. He’s a student of literature who studied at Yale, yet he chooses to live in dirt. He walks around with a mask of manhood like he feels the constant need to prove he is the roughest and toughest leader of his wolf pack. His eyes are cold as mountain air, and his face is a stone façade against the world. He protrudes Machismo through bitter, patronising remarks and a disregard for authority.
“Guess he couldn’ve taken her out without first putting a sack over her head, unlike some others.”
Where Phil is macho and mean-spirited, George is kind and compliant. His brother’s sidekick for too long, George is now used to being helpless. Despite Phil’s often relentless bullying, thoughtful George merely glances down, waiting for the moment to pass. Phil is the explosive and dishevelled Remus to George’s kinder Romulus. A dynamic that only reinforces their power imbalance. Time has taught us that an imbalance in power can only corrupt a relationship. At the restaurant, Peter’s presence immediately sets off Phil. He bullies him for just standing out in a room full of cowboys.
George quietly apologises for his brother’s shrewdness and develops a liking for Peter’s mother, Rose. He courts the young widowed mother, played beautifully by Kirsten Dunst, and takes her as his wife- setting off a storm. Their marital bliss is cut-short after Rose moves into the brothers’ ranch residence. Following that, Peter is enrolled at a boarding school to study medicine.
Phil doesn’t take his brother’s marriage well; he perceives Rose as a threat. To him, she manifests the end of the fraternal family life he’s always known. Thus begins the psychological warfare between Phil and Rose, which Campion directs with meticulous calmness. He’s reluctant to admit it, but Phil relies on his brother. He is accustomed to sharing a bedroom with his brother- like kids. Rose’s arrival changes this, so he goes to war.
Phil embodies a particularly vile sort of fragile masculinity. He’s a contemptuous man who’s ceded urban sensibilities for rural gruffness- who takes pleasure in beating down those he senses as weak. Extending no kindness, he breeds a toxic environment that slowly poisons Rose. Rose, meanwhile, never fails to garner sympathy as a woman beyond the verge of a nervous breakdown.
While George is a stable, supportive source of masculinity, Phil spits what happens when it sours. He projects textbook toxic masculinity. Masculinity comes with endless cracks and wrinkles. As this film accurately depicts, most men tend to hide from themselves to conform. Suppressing emotions or masking distress while maintaining an appearance of “toughness”- using violence and aggression as an indicator of power. Such repressions can be restrictive and traumatising. Phil is evidence of that. He believes he is behaving as a man should. No wonder he manages to cut through anyone unlucky enough to get close- he’s compensating.
The Power of the Dog depicts different types of men- Sensitive Peter, Kind George and Brutish Phil. They give us a piercing look into the many dynamics of How to be a Man. Highbrowed Peter has his own quirks and hobbies. His obvious sensitivities make it hard for him to overcome the hardened masculinity surrounding him. As the story progresses, though, and Peter adapts to his new home, it becomes clear that he’s comfortable in his own skin, unlike Phil. Despite their off start, Phil eventually and unexpectedly warms up to Peter. He helps him get a hand at life on the ranch. This causes Rose to spiral even further, whilst the unlikely camaraderie changes everything. The plot thickens when secrets are unlocked, and hidden desires are revealed.
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Phil’s loneliness surfaces when his hyper-masculine ego deflates. This self-styled cowboy is deeply confused, fascinated by his old friend Bronco Henry- a man so perfect and manly, it hurts. Phil is a man trying to trample his sexuality by putting up a rough front to all around him; he’s playing a game of wits.
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Rose begins to crumble under this trauma; the surrounding toxicity spurs her to intoxicate herself. George distances himself from his brother and the ranch by bringing Rose as a safe haven for himself. Phil absorbs its venom and then decomposes under the pressure of living a lie. It is only pragmatic Peter who takes matters into his own hands, to save his mother.
“What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t help my mother? If I didn’t save her?”
In Peter, Phil meets his match. Just as he softens and lets him in, Peter ceases to opportunity and goes for his throat. Practically everyone in this film struggles with the skin they live in. They are uneasy yet unaware that they share the burden. This film shows us how emotional repression can fuel greater cultural issues and wreak havoc on calm ranch life.
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Much like last year, even this year films across the international bulletin tried to address this topic. Rohith VS’s Kala was one such film. After watching so many horrific and anxiety-inducing films- like Joji, Kala or Drishyam- I’ve found that isolated houses, surrounded by lush greenery in Malayalam cinema, are the equivalent of dingy basements in Hollywood Horror.
Nothing good ever happens here. What unfolds in Kala is so bloody and grotesque; you are as battered as you are dazzled by the end. Kala begins with an Oscar Wild quote about the nature of selfishness and the eminent words, “Long, long ago.” The filmmaker suggests that this tale is as old as time, that it’s both modern and ancient at once.
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Men’s primal, animalistic nature sits just beneath the veneer of civilisation imposed by society. This film hyperbolises this fragile nature of masculinity. It shows if you poke a little, then a man- a loving father and a caring husband- willingly becomes a creature so savage that he is barely recognisable.
The film introduces its protagonist, Shaji, shirtless and in slow motion. The audience is forced to absorb his imposing physicality. This isn’t your typical Bollywood hero entry shot- his brute strength is a recurring factor in this story. Shaji (Tovino Thomas) has confidence in his purpose, his place in the world and his masculinity. He has absorbed what society has thrown at him, and he passes it onto his son. He tells his son that boys don’t cry and beg. He tells him that if he desires something he can’t have, he should take it forcibly.
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Shaji, much like his own father, has been absent throughout his kid’s childhood- not physically, but in a much more crucial sense. Through their conversations, you can gather that Shaji has contributed very little to raise his little boy. Shaji’s relationship with his wife is a passionate one, but the film doesn’t fail to highlight the fault lines. His ego, failure in business, and fractured bond with a father whose house he lives in- all add to his buffet of psychological barbs.
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His father keeps him grounded; he reminds Shaji of his affluent upbringing that left him crippled with the lack of a good work ethic. His father is effortlessly cruel and dismissive. Their casual ping- ponging simmers with resentment and unspoken wounds.
Then, suddenly and seamlessly, Kala segues from a dysfunctional family drama to a home invasion thriller. What unfoldes then rips apart Shaji’s certitude, his patina of entitlement, his power and more importantly, his “manliness.” It is impossible to imagine how Vidhya and her son would recover from the trauma of what they witnessed.
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Amidst the relentless violence, the brilliant directing prods us to consider where our sympathies lie. You might instantly root for Shaji, but as the narrative unfolds, his actions and behaviour reveal the sinister side of his wounded masculinity. The antagonist (Suresh Moor) of the film, ironically titled “Protagonist”, has a terrifying feral presence. His eyes glow with madness- they radiate the anger of a man who has nothing left to lose. The film shows us that two colliding tornados of fragile male egos cannot be contained without any repercussions.
The film is a character study that strips its protagonist bare- literally and metaphorically. When his powerlessness begins to dawn on him, Shaji, instead of being desolate, feels utterly humiliated. The vanity of that shirtless scene, in the beginning, is wholly subsumed by the horror of what Shaji endures. By the end, he is left with very little. He still tries to hold onto his false integrity, like he still feels the pressure to do so. Shaji, like many Bollywood heroes, is so blinded by his thirst for dominance that he doesn’t see how naked he is. Just like “The Power of the Dog,” even this is a “big d*ck competition.”
The film is a character study that strips its protagonist bare- literally and metaphorically. When his powerlessness begins to dawn on him, Shaji, instead of being desolate, feels utterly humiliated. The vanity of that shirtless scene, in the beginning, is wholly subsumed by the horror of what Shaji endures. By the end, he is left with very little. He still tries to hold onto his false integrity, like he still feels the pressure to do so. Shaji, like many Bollywood heroes, is so blinded by his thirst for dominance that he doesn’t see how naked he is. Just like “The Power of the Dog,” even this is a “big d*ck competition.”