Lovingly shot, but ultimately unsettling.
Paul Thomas Anderson is a master of the craft of filmmaking, and with Phantom Thread, he has trained his eye on the world of high fashion in post-war London, as well as once again on his muse, Daniel Day-Lewis.
Speaking of muses, Phantom Thread revolves around one. Renowned dressmaker Reynolds Woodcock (Lewis) has built a very particular life for himself, one that starts to change when he finds Alma (Vicky Krieps), an ordinary girl he brings into this extraordinary world.
Much of Phantom Thread is domestic drama, a maze of manners and ritual that takes quite some time to sort out. Reynolds is … peculiar. He likes things a certain way, and with the success he’s had, who’s to argue? His sister Cyril (Lesley Manville) keeps him in his lane, but there’s a tenuousness to the proceedings throughout.
Reynolds is part effete man of wealth, part eccentric, and part artist. Creating wearable works of art for the highest of high society explains a lot of it, but his relationship with his deceased mother perhaps explains more. Into this situation comes Alma.
Physically, she’s not ripped from the cover of Vogue, but to Reynolds, she’s perfect. Beyond that, her willingness to go along with his plans makes her a desirable addition to his everyday. Even so, she’s no wallflower; her quiet demeanor belies a strong will and a desire to make her mark.
At the point at which these two become lovers, the union is almost an afterthought. She is now in his life, as dress model, roommate, and companion. That he could live without her is an ever-present reality, but that he continues to need her presence is far more important.
This wonderland of shared existence takes up the first half of the film until trouble strikes at last. Reynolds appears to be unable to sustain happiness, and Alma will not settle. Her response to this and the odd evolution of their relationship changes the movie substantially, mostly not for the better.
Anderson’s technical chops are on display here, much as they were in There Will Be Blood and The Master. The quirkiness of the subject matter is admirable, but the mismatch between the gorgeous nature of the movie (along with exceedingly strong acting throughout) butts heads against a story that resolves oddly, but not oddly enough.
The man behind “I drink your milkshake!” is certainly capable of turning the tables on an audience, but here it feels too reserved, a condition that matches the film’s proceedings but leaves the audience unsatisfied after having put in the hard work of figuring out this complicated relationship.
Sadly, this is almost exclusively a male-centered work, with the female characters only fleshed out insomuch as their interactions with men tell us anything about them at all. Alma and Cyril are left on the back burner as another of Reynolds’s quirks is examined in full. (You know I don’t like butter on my asparagus!)
The lackluster finale to Phantom Thread might be a tad disappointing, but it doesn’t take away from the experience of the rest of the movie. Anderson has created a classic look that is more than homage to the films of the era in which it resides. Spending time in this world is a pleasure, even if Reynolds never enjoys it himself.
