Like many people, I endlessly admire Paul Thomas Anderson. His rise from a wunderkind young independent filmmaker, having made such masterpiece as Boogie Nights and Magnolia, to one of the most respected cinematic forces working today, with films such as There Will Be Blood and The Master, has been extraordinary, and I personally have not encountered a Paul Thomas Anderson film I did not like or find remarkable in some way (even Hard Eight had its merits). I have enjoyed his work throughout the years, finding in every one of his films something representing Anderson’s singular vision in some way. However, one element of Anderson’s talents that is rarely mentioned is his innate ability to stretch himself and venture off into strange cinematic territories, looking at the human condition through different lenses, gazing at our inner insecurities in ways that are sometimes unconventional and always incredibly moving. He is a director that challenges himself (who else could have taken the risk of not only adapting a novel by the notoriously difficult literary icon Thomas Pynchon but also making it one of the greatest films of the twenty-first century), and he may have just made his most unconventional film, Phantom Thread, which is almost entirely unlike anything Anderson has done to date, for a number of reasons.

With the exception of Hard Eight and some parts of The Master, every film Anderson has made has been set somewhere in California, looking at the state in different time periods. His vision of California is akin to Mike Leigh’s London, Jean-Luc Godard’s Paris, Federico Fellini’s Rome and Akira Kurosawa’s Tokyo in its intricate inspection of the inner personality of the location, with it almost becoming a character of its own, and it only makes sense that California is the locale in which Anderson feels the most familiar with, and he has mastered representing it in beautiful and fascinating ways throughout his films. Therefore, it only makes sense that he would outright reject the comfort of California at some point, and with Phantom Thread, Anderson abandons the United States as a whole, setting the film in the United Kingdom, mainly in London and its surrounding countryside. Suddenly, sunny California, with its iconic beaches and recognizably laid-back way of life is replaced by the gorgeously bleak grey conditions of London, a considerable change of pace for Anderson. Moreover, he crafted a drama centred around a world not many would find particularly interesting, the world of 1950s fashion. Anderson took a story that seems abstract and dull and imbued it with so much vitality and subversive brilliance, it becomes undeniably one of the best films of the year, and an argument could easily be made that positions Phantom Thread as Anderson’s greatest work to date.

In the 1950s, London’s high society always wants to look their best in order to flaunt their elegance and their wealth. There is one particular name that everyone in the city desperately wants to be dressed by, Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis), perhaps the city’s finest and most respected dressmaker known for his exquisite, meticulous couture. He and his sister Cyril (Lesley Manville) run the prestigious House of Woodcock, where various high-profile clients, ranging from wealthy dowagers, associates of the nobility and even members of the Royal Family, visit in order to be blessed with some of Reynolds’ exquisite designs. Reynolds himself is a complex man, filled with anxieties and angst towards his creative process, with his strict routine and callous demeanour masked by his soaringly creative exterior that is constantly a servant to the demanding and specific needs of the women who come to him for a small investment in his creative genius. In order to aid his creative process, Cyril runs the day-to-day operations, allowing her brother all the creative freedom that he desires, spoiling him with complete independence to continue to allow their artistry to flourish and to keep them in the good graces of high society, because as this film shows, society is driven by status and wealth. Reynolds, on one of his anxiety-induced excursions to the countryside, meets Alma (Vicky Krieps), a humble foreign waitress who captivates the otherwise unimpeachably serious Reynolds, who soon finds himself falling in love with her. Alma is soon thrown into the high-society world of couture design, and her relationship with Reynolds grows in various ways. Their relationship is challenged by Alma’s defiant tendencies and Reynolds’ stubborn nature, and what follows is an examination of a truly twisted form of infatuation, one that bears a remarkable similarity to what Gabriel García Márquez remarked in Chronicle of a Death Foretold that “hate and love are reciprocal passions”.

Phantom Thread is one of the most unconventional films about a romance between two individuals ever made. The relationship between the two main characters is both macabre and passionate in equal measure, with Anderson looking at Alma and Reynolds as two characters that perhaps were never in love to begin with, but rather experienced the mirage of infatuation. While referring to a film as “a dark and twisted romance” evokes unfortunate images of a certain literary and cinematic series about the more alternative forms of pleasure garnered through a relationship, which shall go unnamed, Phantom Thread is something much more profound. It is an unconventional romance, showing the various challenges that occur in a relationship, but without the melodramatic predictability. It is an often daunting exercise in representing Reynolds and Alma’s relentless provocation of the limits of a relationship, examining their own selfish pursuits in the hopes of still finding that particular connection that drew them together. One of the most extraordinary merits I found in Phantom Thread was the unexpected developments that occurred throughout. There is not any possibility of predicting where this story will go, and Anderson clearly created a romance that is as subversive as his other romantic masterwork, Punch-Drunk Love, a film that also relished in dismantling well-established clichés about the genre and conventions of cinematic romance. I cannot recall the last time I saw a film so hideously dark and deranged in its approach to representing such a primal, carnal and simplistic concept as love, yet simultaneously so gorgeously beautiful and profoundly romantic. To call Phantom Thread a romantic film seems utterly contradictory to the nature of the story, but there is a truthfulness pulsating through this film that lingers on the mind of the audience that drives us equally as deep into the deranged antics of this troubling but alluring romance.

I mentioned Mike Leigh previously in this review, and that was not a simple throwaway comment to illustrate a point, and there is some element of comparison that can be made between Phantom Thread and the works of Mike Leigh. Anderson is, first and foremost, a cinephile and he clearly has been influenced by various other filmmakers, such as his mentor Robert Altman (much of his early work bears remarkable similarity to Altman’s most notably the multiple character-driven vision of interconnected stories of Magnolia that is a tremendous spiritual successor to Short Cuts, and the brilliant Inherent Vice owing quite an amount to The Long Goodbye), as well as including elements of the work of Stanley Kubrick and Robert Downey Sr. in his work as clear visual and narrative influences that have helped form and refine Anderson’s distinctive style and attention to detail. In Phantom Thread, however, there seem to be some element of paying tribute to the works of Leigh. By temporarily abandoning his view of America and rather focusing on something foreign but still recognizable in terms of his other films, Anderson casts a distinctively similar gaze on English society, looking at it with the same satirical vitriol and sardonic sarcasm that Leigh has perfected throughout his career. Phantom Thread approaches its subject matter through dignified satire rather than through meaningless mockery, which makes it even more scathing, as the inherent truths presented throughout have a hopelessly strong sense of realism and can often be shockingly relevant to reality and its deranged trickery. Perhaps not directly influenced by Leigh (to call Phantom Thread a film whereby Anderson attempted to imitate Mike Leigh would be unjustified and would remove all of Anderson’s well-earned merits as an independent creative force, and a filmmaker capable of his own terrific merits), the approach to the narrative is akin to the strengths of some of Leigh’s most biting films, such as Naked, Vera Drake and Secrets & Lies, all of which are equally as stunning as Phantom Thread in casting a troublingly poignant gaze over a particular faction of society.

What Anderson achieves here, of which very few filmmakers are capable, is a subversive reflection of English high society, looking at its bilateral nature – most specifically the obviously notable and well-established lives of the wealthy, filled with grotesque excess and a disturbing requirement to retain relevance by constantly keeping up appearances, driven by the lustful desire for status and ascension to higher-ranks of societal respect. In addition to this, it also serves to be a scathing commentary aimed directly on the aspects of this society that are rarely looked at, the concealed existences of manipulation, exploitation and extortion that occur in these instances, the hidden recesses of debauchery, dishonesty and malevolent intent, neatly hidden behind the seemingly-harmless but imprudent and immoderate lives of the upper-class and the nobility, who are driven by their selfish desire for status, wealth and superiority. Anderson constructs the same commentary on the excesses of the overindulgence of this particular part of society as Leigh, looking at it with the same reserved revulsion without being directly and overtly dismissive of it, rather allowing the audience to construct their own views on the matter, which leads to several philosophical ponderings present throughout this film. I do not want to lead anyone to believe that Phantom Thread is anything but original, nor do I desire to create allusions that Anderson does not have his own incredible merits as a creative force, and has to resort to mere imitation of an inspiring cinematic predecessor. Mike Leigh is a filmmaker who is singularly inimitable, but Anderson comes shockingly close to capturing the same delightfully twisted commentary on the post-Second World War generation and the zeitgeist that existed during this era in the United Kingdom, and that is truly admirable and makes Phantom Thread even more of a remarkable achievement.

While watching Phantom Thread, I was struck by quite a thoughtful revelation: Paul Thomas Anderson, throughout his career, has positioned himself as one of the most respected directors of twentieth-century period pieces, with only a few of his films taking place in the contemporary era. He covered the early twentieth century with There Will Be Blood, the promising but problematic post-Second World War era with The Master, the tragic shift from the psychedelic to the paranoid that took place at the end of the Sixties with Inherent Vice, and the turbulent Seventies with Boogie Nights, showing the rise of debauchery and indecency, and the realization that entire empires can be built from dirty deeds. He has managed to look at the evolution of human consciousness and the structural and cultural shifts of society, reflecting the progression of years and philosophical existence. Phantom Thread exists with all of these films, and in spite of its location being the United Kingdom, it is still a remarkable period piece that represents the metaphysical aspects of a society, showing both the tangible societal structure, as well as the mindsets that exist within such a society. A period piece carries the tragic misconception of being tedious, frigid stories restricted to drawing rooms and parlours, covering irrelevant subject matter that may be visually-delectable, but not entirely mentally-stimulating. Phantom Thread is anything but a conventional period piece, and even if its somewhat inelastic appearance would suggest that it is a standard, dull period drama, understand that beneath the exterior, there lies a story that is scandalous, riveting and utterly unforgettable, and a film that benefits two-fold from its period sensibilities – it retains the beautiful imagery and character-driven nature of its forerunners, while still being absolutely subversive, original and extremely entertaining, which is sadly often not a predominant element of films of this kind.

In all honesty, I have never subscribed to the belief that Daniel Day-Lewis is the greatest living actor. He has given some absolutely remarkable performances, such as in My Beautiful Laundrette and There Will Be Blood, his previous collaboration with Anderson, but he has also given his share of mediocre performances, and sometimes his antics of being the most dedicated of method actors can seem extremely pretentious, as does the belief that being selective suddenly equates to being a monumental actor (there are many actors that appear in multiple films a year and are still absolutely incredible actors). However, having said this, it is imperative to note that when Daniel Day-Lewis hits all the right notes with a performance, he is almost unimpeachably fantastic, and there are very few actors who can reach the same towering heights that Day-Lewis has shown in many of his performances. Paul Thomas Anderson brought out Day-Lewis’ best performance with the aforementioned There Will Be Blood, and it only seemed fateful that they would work together again. His performance as Reynolds Woodcock is notably far more subdued and calculated in its subtleties, but it is an absolutely astonishing performance, and while many may see the lack of Day-Lewis’ distinctive histrionics as being indicative of a weaker performance, I found his nuanced performance in Phantom Thread to be just about his greatest work. If the retirement rumors are to be believed (of which I do not, and I remain cynical that this will be Day-Lewis final performance, because it may take him a decade to return, but I believe the inescapable pull of an interesting character will doubtlessly lead him back to the silver screen), then his swan song is a profoundly brilliant one, a performance that is powerful, effective and utterly extraordinary, delivered by an actor giving a truly incredible portrayal of a character that could have so easily been a caricature, or a badly-written amalgamation of true-life figures, but rather served to be a resounding triumph of film performance. Externally, his performance is straightforward and simple, but the internal condition of the character allows Day-Lewis to play one of the most complex, irrevocably fascinating characters of his entire career, and if this truly is the last screen performance that Day-Lewis will give, there are very few better films to end a long, illustrious and influential career as Phantom Thread.

Paul Thomas Anderson possesses the innate ability to cast his films with either notable, well-established performers or giving major roles to new talent that are able to receive considerable boosts to their careers by appearing in Anderson’s almost folkloric films. There was some element of playful risk that took part in Phantom Thread through Anderson’s decision to have the role of Alma, the sparring partner and romantic interest of the lead character and the intimidatingly iconic actor behind the performance, played by a relative unknown. Vicky Krieps, who many of us had not been particularly aware of, was given the daunting task of sharing the majority of her scenes with Day-Lewis, and while such a task may easily break a far more established performance, Krieps is wonderful and rises to the challenge with tremendous enthusiasm and admirable courage. The result is a performance that comes close to rivalling that of Day-Lewis, with Krieps being unbelievably great. Far more than just an object of Reynolds’ lustful yearnings and desire to have a companion, Alma grows into a fully-realized character, with the film following her development from a simple waitress in an insignificant countryside restaurant, to a character far that is possibly far more powerful than that of the highly-regarded and influential Reynolds, holding the power to manipulate him and change his perceptions and possibly even undergo a substantial downfall, simply through her position as his closest confidante, as well as someone capable of seeing his demented nature and having the ability to manipulate him to do her bidding. Krieps is absolutely wonderful, and gives a truly explosive star-making performance here, managing to be a worthy opponent to Day-Lewis. The chemistry between the two performers is also outstanding, with every passionate inhalation and resentful exhalation being indicative of their intricate understanding of their own characters, as well as the other. While There Will Be Blood placed Paul Dano as Eli Sunday, the preacher who battles Day-Lewis’ Daniel Plainview over the sensitive matter of religion, Phantom Thread replaces him with Krieps’ Alma, with whom Day-Lewis’ Reynolds clashes with over something far more profound: the concept of love. Krieps will likely gain a tremendous amount of exposure from this film, and deservingly so: her performance in Phantom Thread is excellent, and she is worthy of being amongst the finest performances of the year, a performance filled with bravery, soulful beauty and intricate understanding of her character and her motivations.

Daniel Day-Lewis may be the alluring factor of this film, and Vicky Krieps may be the young ingénue who has an explosive breakthrough with her incredible performance, but there is one performance in this film that quietly controls the film and manages to be a truly tremendous performance. This performance is the work of Lesley Manville, an actress who has given some incredible performances in various films, most notably those of Mike Leigh (could this be further proof of the thought that Anderson was inspired by Leigh’s work?). A constant presence throughout the film, Manville is extremely effective, giving a silently powerful performance as Cyril. She takes ferocious control over every scene in which she appears, and while her performance is relatively subdued, there are some startlingly fascinating moments whereby Manville, even in the most subtle and unprepossessing of situations, resonates and leaves the audience exhilarated and utterly speechless. Manville is undeniably the heart and soul of the film, taking charge of it and being a regulatory factor, ensuring that she is never too far out of reach, almost humanizing (but never justifying) the twisted games these characters play throughout the film. Her confrontation scene with her brother, where she calmly dissuades him from provoking her, is an absolutely astounding moment, and a moment that is entirely unforgettable. As good as Day-Lewis was, Phantom Thread finds its most effective performance in Manville, who is quite simply extraordinary. There is clearly far more than meets the eye when we are presented with this dignified character, and Manville astonished me with her careful and meticulous control of the character, and her utterly brilliant ability to convey even the most inconsequential remarks in such a way that they garner philosophical meaning. Manville gives an absolute powerhouse performance, being entirely captivating and profoundly unforgettable.

In many ways, as I have mentioned several times, Phantom Thread bears resemblance to many more conventional period dramas, but that is purely on the surface level, because once the audience is fully engrossed in the nuanced intricacies of the film, it becomes clear that Phantom Thread is a defiant and subversive film, one that seemingly rejects the conventions of the genre in which it garners inspiration from, and soars to towering heights of originality, subverting expectations and becoming something entirely its own. Phantom Thread may seem dour and dull (and it seems like Anderson almost relishes in leading the audience to believe that they are watching a standard period drama). It becomes extremely evident that Phantom Thread is a meaningfully provocative form of social satire, and it manages to be consistent in being darkly witty and delightfully twisted. This is a film, first and foremost, about the relationships between characters, and none of them are particularly admirable, and the conflicts between them that occur throughout are absolutely tremendous. This film is almost unrestrained and unhinged, and is silently chaotic, seemingly being only moments away from the descent into complete psychological anarchy. I was not expecting Phantom Thread to be this amusing, but it is truly an entertaining film, but one that also has something meaningful behind the scathing indictments against the society it satirizes. As mentioned previously, Phantom Thread is a deeply philosophical film, and the film blends the existential crises of the characters with their imperfect psychological state. A notable distinction between Phantom Thread and other similar period pieces are that very few of the latter allows the audience such unfettered access into the minds of the characters. We become privy to the innermost mechanics of these characters, with their flawed mental states are displayed in a way that is entertaining but never exploitative. It is a fascinating character study, and perhaps the most straightforward way to describe Phantom Thread and its core narrative is as an overindulgent, delightfully wicked exploration of the human condition and the societies in which it operates.

Once again, it is impossible to describe a Paul Thomas Anderson film without praising its visual aesthetic as well. There are not many filmmakers who are able to create such beautifully stunning films to go alongside the powerful and unique narrative, and it seems like Anderson only becomes more experimental as his career progresses. Phantom Thread is a gloriously beautiful film, with the technical elements and creative production and costume design being absolutely exquisite and undeniably gorgeous. Phantom Thread was allegedly shot without an official cinematographer, with Anderson himself serving as director of photography in a collaborative effort with other crew members, all of which worked together to shoot an extraordinarily beautiful film, one that perhaps may not rival that of The Master or There Will Be Blood (although attempting to rival the superb work of Robert Elswit, or the staggering work Mihai Mălaimare Jr. did on The Master, would be impossible), but it serves to be absolutely incredible. Phantom Thread is a collaboration of several technical and creative forces working together in perfect unison, most notably the stunning costumes designed by Mark Bridges. It was obvious that a film centred around the fashion industry would require a heightened sense of costuming, and Bridges absolutely delivers. In addition to this, legendary musician Jonny Greenwood returns for his fourth collaboration with Anderson in composing the score for Phantom Thread, and he does perhaps his best work (Radiohead or otherwise, as difficult as that is to say) with this film. His score is alternately delicate and heavy-handed, and contributes beautifully to the narrative and heightens the central tension of the film. Phantom Thread is rich and decadent in terms of visual and creative splendour, and it is astonishing how Anderson combines the strength of the story with the celestial beauty of the visuals, but it only proves how impressive Anderson is as a filmmaker.

Needless to say, I absolutely adored Phantom Thread. First and foremost, it is an utterly stunning film, with technical prowess and creative genius working in perfect harmony to create something absolutely blinding in its beauty. More than this, the film is an absolutely astonishing piece of cinema, combining a strong central story with forays into the darkly comical and absurdly satirical, taking an unflinching look at a society in flux after the Second World War. Anchored by a central performance from Daniel Day-Lewis, who gives what is apparently his final performance (as I’ve said before, I know he will certainly be back at some point), allowing him to have two incredible sparring partners in Vicky Krieps, the breakthrough who will hopefully have an astonishing career, and the extraordinary Lesley Manville, who is quite simply astounding in every moment she appears on screen. Phantom Thread displays three performers who give perhaps their finest performances to date (which is not difficult for someone like Krieps, who will doubtlessly prove her talents are just as extraordinary in several other films in the future). Phantom Thread is a truly incredible film, a relentless provocation of form and content, and an exercise in examining society in an unforgiving, but undeniably careful and delicate manner, exposing the deranged nature of society in a way that is delightfully twisted, often darkly hilarious and witty beyond compare. Paul Thomas Anderson has crafted an absolutely exquisite film and proves himself to be quite simply a maestro of contemporary filmmaking.