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“Phantom Thread” is mesmerizing and profoundly sad. Daniel Day-Lewis is riveting and powerful as the solitary artist unwilling to release control of his own world to surrender to love. In Writer and Director Paul Thomas Anderson’s “Phantom Thread” set in post-War 1950’s London, Day-Lewis plays renowned dressmaker Reynolds Woodcock, who designs wedding dresses for all of London’s elite. Middle-aged Woodcock is the confirmed bachelor taking and discarding his lovers.
Reynolds along with devoted sister Cyril, played by powerfully understated Leslie Manville, lead the fashion House of Woodcock. Having also foregone marriage, Cyril apparently cares for her brother, who seemingly battles depression. Woodcock is the paradox. He creates beauty, accommodating women with his fashion. Yet, in his personal relationship with women, he is unforgiving. Daniel is brilliant restraint and the master of detail in Woodcock’s focused will be constructing his world that he imposes upon those close to him.
Day-Lewis’s Woodcock has no self-awareness, his character failing. He allows no space for love, much less granting permission to love him; aside from his Cyril. On holiday at their family vacation home, Woodcock encounters beguiling natural beauty Alma, authentically vulnerable Vicky Krieps. Woodcock romances Alma in his distinguishing style. Is he falling in love with his discovered muse or is she merely the ideal model?
Woodcock confesses, “I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” While walking on the gorgeous hills of the English coastline Alma says, “You found me…” So is this the beginnings of true love?
Director Anderson creates the elegant world of fashion and privilege with meticulous images and the moving musical score. His love story of Woodcock and Alma resonates as deeply sad. Someone wise said that profound sadness heals the loss. Poignantly, the sadness in “Phantom Thread” is the kind that reminds of past loss, and perpetuates. Yet, the possibility of profound sadness may exist in the narrative resolve.
Reynolds suffers from the loss of his Mother as a young boy. He loved her so, but never completed his loss. Anyone who dares intimacy with him suffers the consequences. That narrative thread is sewn into the very canvas of “Phantom Thread”.
At the tipping point of Woodcock and Alma’s love affair, Cyril defends her distinct fondness for Alma. Brave Cyril warns her brother, “Don’t pick a fight with me. You certainly won’t come out alive. I’ll go right through you…” Woodcock is his own worst enemy, of which he has no clue. When all three are present, Woodcock tragically says, “There is an air of quiet death in this house…” That is so. And Reynolds is the source.
In the ironic narrative twist, Alma betrays Woodcock to calm their volatile relationship. Strangely, this element enlists defining gravitas. Cyril and Alma truly love Reynolds. Ultimately, he must choose to give up being right about everyone. That is hard for anyone to do. Director Anderson is unflinching and patient in revealing his portrait of humility and personal surrender. His story falters at times, yet his humanity is eloquence.
“Phantom Thread” is beauty and sadness. Day-Lewis, Manville, and Krieps are all sublime. “Phantom Thread” inquires: What you would sew into the canvas of your life or for those you love? “Phantom Thread” is wonderful and touching to behold.
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Originally Published on IMDb
Photo Credit The Coffee Break Collective
