I like the rhythm of his movies. I like how he uses music to create motion. I remember this in Boogie Nights, Magnolia, There Will Be Blood, The Master and this one. The music and cinematography create such a current that when he cuts to stillness one can feel the electric buildup. He seems effective with this -- alternating current and capacitance. It makes these movies exciting and engaging despite subject matter you weren't sure you could get excited about. I was engaged throughout Phantom Thread, and while I feel fortunate I could sympathize with these characters, I don't think that entirely accounts for my investment. I think he creates rhythms I like. I'm also obviously partial to anything Radiohead-related, so that relationship has proven fortuitous for me. Indeed I was enjoying this movie before I was sympathizing with the characters and before I knew why I was enjoying it, dry as it appeared. I like his style and I like his motion, and I like his static tension. Of course these themes have morphed over the years: the style and motion and static tension I like about Phantom Thread look very different from the same I liked about Boogie Nights. There's been a general subduing over time, Phantom Thread being the most subdued. In Boogie Nights the style was disco, the motion was one long twirling take around the club, and the static tension was... hmm, I don't remember, maybe wholesome Buck covered in blood considering theft? Even as I recall it seems too on-the-nose to represent what I'm saying, but that's also what I'm saying. There were a few moments Boogie Nights shattered the edifice in the most obviously shattering ways. I always thought it worked, but after climaxing in Magnolia, he probably had no choice but to get more oblique. You can't get much more direct than Tom Cruise repeating "respect the cock; tame the cunt!" I guess my identity search hadn't gotten very subtle yet in high school (see Magnolia and Synecdoche NY). Then I slowed my moviegoing and thus haven't advanced much since. But I was overjoyed to see Kaufman at his most subdued in I'm Thinking of Ending Things, and I'm glad PTA is still exploring subtlety without giving up on what made his movies exciting for me all along. I'm not calling Phantom Thread subtle necessarily, but he's come a long way.
Yes, I did sympathize with the characters. Sometimes my role in my relationship is Reynolds', and I can appreciate Alma's sole questionable act as Reynolds did. As with most PTA and Kaufman movies I'm sympathizing with characters I don't necessarily like, though I may like these two more than most. Alma is mostly agreeable, though not completely; if she were completely agreeable, I wouldn't sympathize with Reynolds, so it works. She seems to have found the extreme means to master an extreme man. It's so effective you may respect her without questioning her sanity. That is kind of an awesome conclusion to the narrative. She apparently figured things out. I'm not sure I would have him swallow though, if I wrote it, after she revealed her purpose. It's almost unrealistically masochist, or if that word doesn't work, he's almost unrealistically bystander to his own agony. But I like it -- it sort of redeemed Alma for me, ironically, as she was becoming insufferably incompetent at dealing with him. I do recognize my terrible kinship with him, that I would reduce my opinion of her for having trouble dealing with him. He's a whole horse's arse. More specifically he's a horse's arsehole. But she was denying reality for a while, like when she prepared the surprise evening. It sort of broke my heart, but frustrated me as well. It felt too familiar. She should have known what Cyril and I knew entering that event: this isn't good. She knew, but didn't really know. Then again, her justification is admirable: this is the way she wants to love, and if it doesn't work, the failed attempt is preferable to constant suppression. At worst, she's miserable and learns a lesson, and at best, assuming she's punished, she doesn't care because this is her expression. Unfortunately come dinnertime she is miserable and is punished and does care. But she also learns the lesson.
Up to and possibly including the end of the movie, it seems clear she's with the wrong person, though I'm not sure there's a right person for her. Same goes for him, although it's even more far-fetched to imagine a right person for him. If the movie ever forgives him, it's due to his pain over his mother, and how any woman coming between him and his work seems to be in his mind coming between him and his mother. I understand associating solitary focus with something far more precious, and punishing unduly any hindrance. It's hard to be with someone, with such a habit, and it's hard to be with someone with such a habit. It's one of the most righteous ways of being a horse's arse. For better or worse I understand it.
Upon reflection I may like these characters more than I thought. Toward the end, his hallucination redeems him, and her manipulation (I don't think it's proxy Munchausen) redeems her. I may need to watch this again and validate my affections.
Recollections of Jane Eyre when they talk by firelight... recollections of Anomalisa when he says he's been searching for her but then she eats loudly.
