Phantom Thread (2017)

I've expounded on more than one occasion my profound love of the filmography of Paul Thomas Anderson. In my view, he hasn't yet made a film in his 20+ year career that fell even slightly short of perfect. There has only been one other filmmaker before him that managed to do the same. Stanley Kubrick. So from that equation, you must ask, am I saying PTA is the new Kubrick? 100% yes. You'd have to make a good argument to prove me otherwise, however, that is a discussion for another time.

But to all those familiar with his works, there is a familiar pattern in the way he has made films up to this particular point. A sense of emotional grandeur. Whether his characters are up to their knees in oil, filming a porn shoot, collecting pudding packets or wandering the streets of a 1960's LA dazed and confused, they all seem to walk a tight rope of fragility and could explode at any given moment. This makes the themes and performances of his films noticeably big and memorably intense. Phantom Thread breaks the mold in accomplishing something that Anderson hasn't before. Subtlety.

Phantom Thread is one of the most elegant and graceful films I've ever seen. It floats across the screen like a rose petal. If you were to merely blink, you'd find yourself watching the credits. Few films in this day and age capture a sense of serenity that has even the most inattentive of viewers to drift into it. But once you go adrift, you'll unexpectedly enter the cold world of Reynolds Woodcock. A mad seamstress. Damn anyone who impedes on his creative process. A lower class waitress named Alma comes into his life and tries to find the section of his heart that could love another woman as much as he loves his craft. What she finds is that Mr. Woodcock doesn't respond to kindness. In fact, he grows to detest even the littles micro actions of Alma, including how she chews her food at breakfast time. A passionless affair this becomes. In a fit of rage, Alma attempts to poison Mr. Woodcock with tea infused with poisonous mushroom. He falls ill. Upon recovery, he inexplicably asks her to marry him. Alma finally begins to realize Mr. Woodcock's tragic disposition. He only reacts positively to hate.

Paul Thomas Anderson has made a tremendous classical satire of romantic relationships. Despite it's elegance, Phantom Thread contains a range of humor and horror that sloppy Hollywood blockbusters just don't come close to. You will spend most of your time cringing, but you'll find yourself laughing out loud towards the end when you finally understand the meaning of Mr. Woodcock's madness. He is a memorable character, tailor made (mind the pun) for Daniel-Day Lewis. It saddens me that we may never see him onscreen again. There isn't enough praise in the world to give to an acting giant such as he. If he could spend the rest of eternity standing upon a stage and enjoying a standing ovation, we would all find a way to make sure our hands don't tire.