"phantom thread"

Annapurna Pictures

Oscar-winning "Moonlight" director Barry Jenkins said it best on Twitter, when he endorsed Paul Thomas Anderson's "Phantom Thread" as a near-perfect, unfiltered admixture of the idiosyncratic auteur's best and most cherished works. In his valuation, "Phantom" is the logical conclusion to "Punch Drunk Love," "There Will Be Blood" and "The Master" — "PDL" in particular weaving the most cinematic (and oftentimes lyrical) display of tragedy thwarted by tenderness, a deliberation of love so palpable it coaxed Daniel Day-Lewis into accepting his juiciest lead role since "Gangs of New York." A gargantuan undertaking; in scope, size and technical achievement, "TWBB" proved Anderson had matured well beyond what audiences expected of him, and would eventually go on to create another mini-masterpiece in "The Master" (which is also cited as the venerated director's favorite). With "Thread" however, PTA's guiding hand is more restrained, more intently zeroed in on breaking apart the form itself, if only to re-arrange and assemble its missing pieces by the film's head-scratching end. If one were to say, strip away the film's rococo backdrop, lavish art direction, and pulchritudinous cinematography, "Phantom's" substratum would reveal nothing more than an offbeat, albeit conventional love story. Yet the means to which Anderson drums up a love story so brazenly bizarre and off-putting, owes its roots to Jenkins' said favorites, which makes the work an outré delight to absorb. 

Like another well-known director who also goes by the name Anderson (Wes), P.T.A. refuses to pepper his movies with loads of big name stars. Instead, he relishes his singular leading men (come on Paul Thomas, time to include women) while sprinkling a cohort of incredible character actors in their midst; his trademark modus operandi since "There Will Be Blood." Though, in the case of that rare project, Dano proved to be quite prosaic in contrast to DDL's stalwart Daniel Plainview, whereas here, Krieps convincingly exerts her sparring clout over Daniel's Reynolds Woodcock, even as he lobs his most tempestuous of tantrums. Like Braque, Picasso or any of the Euro-Cubist masters, Anderson understood early in his career (perhaps well before "Magnolia" or even "Boogie Nights") that he was more than adept at delivering a satiating film with perfunctory beginnings, middles and ends. "Phantom Thread" on the other hand, seeks to renew the art of filmmaking itself, in a slightly more watchable attempt than "Master" or "Inherent Vice." P.T.A. also plowed ahead without frequent Director of Photography Robert Elswit, reportedly learning enough over the years via his go-to Gaffers and DP to generate the sumptuously distilled, smoky silkscreens we see throughout, accentuating the pastoral (mostly foggy) Post-war London air which constantly invades and punctures the inscrutable House of Woodock. Then there's Reynolds himself, a fastidious dressmaker who takes his work almost as seriously as the man portraying him; much too tedious to construct a love story centered around a tortured artist and his muse, Mr. Anderson eschews the typical alcoholic writer, drug-obsessed musician, and womanizing painter archetypes — opting instead for a novel, brooding British 1950s fashionista. 

Somehow, it works. 

Ostensibly unbothered by the threat of matriarchal authority, the women drawn in and out of Woodock's remorseless orbit, whether willingly or by happenstance, can either choose to fall victim to his cruelty, or fight fire with fire. In Alma's case, she returns his constant barbs with a towering inferno; mushrooms, so poisonous they knock him from his feet, cementing her role as tormentor instead of tormented. She not only manages to successfully tame the house shrew, she plunges Reynolds into the darkest depths of masochistic flagellation, allowing him to come up for air only when she deems his punishment is adequate, caustic and just. It's a clever, modern twist aimed at the institution of courtship and marriage, throttling in between compromise and painful acts of malice. These bellyaching practices meant to secure their "love" ensures words are meant for combat, and emotional welfare (as well as financial), can be just as fragile as the satin linens running through their ruler's sewing machines. Difficult, diligent men, those classified as so-called type A personalities (a.k.a. assholes), are sometimes so blinded by their fatiguing careers that their relationships take a toll, having to repeat the ridiculous process of courtship over and over again, until yet another heart is broken and discarded like an ill-fitting dress. There are women, however, who refuse to be scrapped outright, who strike devastating blows to a man's most cherished organ — no, not his heart, or his brain, but his stomach. By turning Woodock's anger inward, Alma's attempts to retain stability are actually admired by our finicky and fussy protagonist, embroiling one another in each other's arms eternal. What he seems to crave, perhaps much like P.T.A. himself, is to be treated with the same hellish perfection and care he shows his own work, no matter how vile the means. Self-destruction is self-love, just at differing stages. 

"PHANTOM THREAD" Rated R. Running time: 2 hours 10 minutes.