Paul Thomas Anderson’s 2017 masterwork Phantom Thread gleams with the meticulous craftsmanship of the fashion world it portrays. Set in the 1950s London fashion scene, it stars Daniel Day-Lewis as the exacting dressmaker Reynolds Woodcock and Vicky Krieps as Alma, his muse and lover. The making of Phantom Thread was a blend of artistic collaboration, historical research and immersive acting, a seamless fit into Anderson’s body of work, where character studies and psychological intricacies are at the forefront.
Paul Thomas Anderson’s films have always delved into the complexities of human behavior and relationships, from the ensemble narratives of Boogie Nights and Magnolia to the deep character studies of There Will Be Blood and The Master. With Phantom Thread, Anderson narrowed his aperture even further, exploring the intricate dynamics between two central characters in a confined, almost claustrophobic world. The screenplay grew from Anderson’s fascination with hypothetically living alongside someone as obsessive and demanding as Reynolds Woodcock, played here, with aplomb, by Daniel Day-Lewis.
So: Day-Lewis, a previous collaborator of Anderson’s, takes the lead role. Known for his method acting, Day-Lewis immersed himself in the character of Reynolds Woodcock, spending a year learning dressmaking under Marc Happel of the New York City Ballet’s costume department. This rigorous preparation is typical of Day-Lewis, whose performances are, famously, transformative. His Woodcock is a figure of controlled genius, whose every move is calculated but tinged with an underlying vulnerability.
Vicky Krieps, a relative unknown at the time, was chosen for her natural presence and ability to match Day-Lewis’s intensity. Her performance as Alma anchors the film, bringing warmth and complexity to a character who evolves from muse to rival. Krieps’s portrayal of Alma as a woman of surprising strength and resilience is quiet and powerful. Their relationship becomes a complex dance of power and affection, a psychological duel where love and control are perpetually in flux.
And then there’s Leslie Manville’s portrayal of Reynolds’ sister Cyril, a masterclass in subtlety and nuance. She plays a crucial role in the operations of the House of Woodcock, both professionally and domestically. Manville’s performance is marked by a calm, steely demeanor that belies a deep well of strength and authority. Her presence onscreen is commanding without ever needing to be showy. She’s the epitome of quiet power and efficiency, managing the business and her brother’s volatile moods with a firm yet gentle hand, a formidable figure within the film’s intricate strict power dynamics. Her interactions with Reynolds reveal a complex sibling relationship characterized by deep mutual respect and an unspoken understanding; yet it’s one still fraught with tension.
Anderson’s direction is masterful, creating a world that is lush yet oppressive, using every frame to reinforce the film’s themes. The cinematography, with Anderson behind the camera, is visually rich, capturing the tactile quality of the textiles and the rigid confines of Woodcock’s life. Each shot contrasts the soft elegance of the dresses with the hard lines of the characters’ emotional armor. This meticulous visual detail is a hallmark of Anderson’s films, previously seen in the stark landscapes of There Will Be Blood and the vibrant settings of Boogie Nights.
The costume design by Mark Bridges is crucial to the film’s luxuriousness. These aren’t just period pieces; they’re expressions of character and mood. Bridges researched 1950s fashion, drawing from designers like Cristóbal Balenciaga and Charles James. His designs are crafted with obsessive detail, reflecting the same precision a Woodcock would demand. The costumes extend to the characters themselves, embodying the tension and complexity of their relationships. These finely tailored garments helped Day-Lewis fully inhabit Woodcock, enhancing his portrayal of a man whose identity is intertwined with such gorgeous creations.
Jonny Greenwood’s score adds another layer to the film’s fabric. The music is lush yet discordant, mirroring the emotional turbulence beneath the surface. Greenwood’s classical score, with its full orchestral arrangements, reflects the film’s sophisticated (almost stuffy) atmosphere. Strings swell and recede like the tides of Woodcock and Alma’s relationship, adding auditory color to the film’s visual splendor. Greenwood’s collaborations with Anderson, beginning with There Will Be Blood, have become a signature of Anderson’s pictures, blending haunting melodies with a narrative’s emotional core.
Phantom Thread was filmed on location in England, including North Yorkshire and London. Anderson used 35mm film, giving the movie a rich, tactile quality that enhances its period setting. Its cinematography, also handled by Anderson (although uncredited), is elegant and detailed, much like the dresses Woodcock creates.
What sets Phantom Thread apart is its dark humor. Anderson injects sly wit into the interactions between Woodcock and Alma, highlighting the absurdity of their power struggles without undermining the film’s dramatic weight. This balance of comedy and tension enriches the narrative, adding complexity that keeps the viewer on a knives’ edge.
Phantom Thread transcends its fashion setting to offer a look at creativity and control, love and power. Anderson explores these themes with a light touch, weaving humor and tension into a story that unfolds with the precision of a master tailor. The film’s deliberate pacing allows the characters’ complexities to emerge thread by thread, drawing the audience into their world with a hypnotic pull. Anderson, like Woodcock, has crafted something both beautiful and unsettling—a work of art that lingers long after the credits roll. Phantom Thread was acclaimed for its direction, screenplay, performances, and technical achievements. It received six Academy Award nominations, but only won for Best Costume Design. So it goes, when it comes to Paul Thomas Anderson.
Still, the film’s attention to detail – from costume design to method acting – culminates in a work as meticulously crafted as the haute couture it portrays, standing as a pinnacle of Anderson’s distinguished career. Daniel Day-Lewis announced this performance would be his last, marking Phantom Thread as a highpoint in his illustrious career. Whether or not this is Day-Lewis’s swan song, Phantom Thread is filmmaking at its finest, a masterpiece that continues to reveal new depths with each viewing.
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