There is something just a little bit meta about Paul Thomas Anderson’s Oscar-nominated drama Phantom Thread. First of all, a snobbish male genius keen on perfecting his art is no unfamiliar concept to him. Secondly, having this artist sew personal mementos into his work may be considered a gratuitous nod to the director’s own ego, since the initials of the film mirror his own. But once you get past the narcissistic undertones, Phantom Thread is a visually exquisite and musically lavish film that makes the most of its talented cast.
Daniel Day-Lewis is Reynolds Woodcock, a man with enough latent mummy issues to make Norman Bates jealous. Everything in his life has a precise measurement and is under his perfect control. If something or someone falls short of his expectations, they are quickly ejected without a second thought. Woodcock’s perfectionistic obsessiveness shines through even the smallest of Day-Lewis’ mannerisms, whose notorious attention to detail and method acting techniques pay off immensely.
When Alma arrives, at first she appears to be just another one of Woodcock’s exasperated muses, and yet she exhibits a darker desire to dominate and care for him that strangely complements his own primal desire to relinquish control. The complexities of their relationship evolve almost entirely through glances and what is left unspoken between them. Their inhibitions reveal them to be nothing more than two immature lovers, both struggling to move past their own egos to find a kind of love they can both embrace.
In one standout scene that establishes the tone for the film, Alma goes home with Woodcock after their first date to have her body measurements taken. The chemistry between them is palpable, and yet the dialogue simply consists of Woodcock verbalising the numbers on his tape measure. The excitement and affection in the room quickly dissipates with the arrival of Cyril, Woodcock’s loyal, stone-faced sister. Woodcock continues to read out the numbers, but the mood of the scene shifts completely. Cyril eyes off Alma, Alma’s smile turns into an uncomfortable pout, and Woodcock remains oblivious to anything other than his own work.
This simple turn of events that plays out in the actors’ expressions sets up a strong foreshadowing for the characters’ relationships with each other through the film. And that is exactly what Phantom Thread excels at – its character development is primarily a visual experience, underscored by a lush orchestration of strings and piano rather than elaborate dialogue.
These visual elements of the actors’ performances only serve to highlight the depth to which the cast immerse themselves in these roles. While Daniel Day-Lewis and Lesley Manville have won the approval of the Academy with nominations at this year’s Oscars, Vicky Krieps deserves recognition in her own right for her portrayal of Woodcock’s seemingly sweet but secretly twisted muse. After a series of increasingly frustrated attempts to keep the romance alive in their relationship, Alma resolves to flip the power dynamic and reignite that spark through brazenly abusive means.
Alma’s deliberate poisoning of Woodcock and her nursing him back to health brings to the surface his deep-rooted desire to let go of all responsibilities and submit to a motherly love. This is a surprising development at first, but in hindsight we can see how this was foreshadowed from the beginning; Woodcock regularly speaks of his mother as a significant influence in his upbringing, and so it is almost as if she has left behind a void that he is looking to fill. This new element to their relationship is such a bizarre, distorted contrast to the pretty, frilly world of fashion that surrounds them, that it is even a little funny in a Freudian kind of way.
Phantom Thread’s beautiful visual aesthetic and wonderfully rich musical score complement each other impeccably, and yet they are nothing more than garnishing to the cast’s magnificent performances. Audiences going in expecting a traditional period piece on London’s 1950’s fashion scene may end up either horrified or fascinated by its twisted development into an odd tale of love and power. However, regardless of audience reactions, Paul Thomas Anderson has certainly achieved the unique brand of grim humour and opulent imagery that he aimed to create.
