I really like this movie. I like the style and characters. In my recent Mirror post I discussed the importance of atmosphere. Phantom Thread has an immersive atmosphere for me. I'm lost in the glamor and the micro-interactions. It's thrilling like the first firelit confrontation of Michael Fassbender and Mia Wasikowska as Rochester and Jane Eyre: that was engrossing from the top down: from the haunted pastoral setting to the electricity in the subjects' eyes. Phantom Thread is also a study of characters; the plot is as dull as a child could imagine, yet the dynamics are lightning. I feel these interactions deeply; maybe some people watch this movie feeling Woodcock is irredeemable; personally I related to him. Perhaps this is just another example of Paul Thomas Anderson movies striking my soft spots. I really believed every bit of it. My empathy was torn between the two characters. Ultimately Alma is the protagonist, like Jane Eyre, but I relate at least as much with the Byron.
I appreciated bits of humor more this time than last. It's essential; without intermittent relief -- without Alma brushing off his abuse with light retort -- this movie would be insufferable. Imagine her crying every time she's offended. She reminds us not to take it all too seriously, that we can enjoy the movie, though this lesson is delicate. I don't want to over-excuse him -- he's an asshole at best, and maybe concerningly abusive -- but I've learned in the last few years not to be so serious, and that it's okay for people to have different severities of expression. Some people I knew in New Jersey would come off as rude in Wisconsin, though they're no less kind. Woodcock is an asshole -- but how seriously do we need to take him? We could be hurt every time he scolds or neglects us, or we can say "fuck off" like he does and move on with our day -- or "your moaning hurts my ears" like Cyril. When dealing with an everlasting asshole it becomes the recipient's choice how sensitive to be. This movie could have been miserable, if Alma was too sensitive, and Cyril never stood her ground. Thankfully Woodcock is at times reduced to juvenility, not by his actions but by the reactions of others. Nothing is more childish than getting mad at someone who doesn't give a shit. The lightness of such moments saves the movie. That's not to mention the actual humor, which is rare but unmistakable. But speaking of childishness, I like how we're left, eventually, with the question: who's the real toddler? Though some woman asks Woodcock what it's like to marry a toddler, the irony buzzes.
Maybe I would have been a good English aristocrat. I enjoyed these two hours of smug banter, like a parlor game. It's interesting what can entertain us, and the abstract ways we'll spend our time. Phantom Thread is for people who are doing pretty well by Maslow.
I really dig your 2nd review of this flick. I may be wrong, but I believe the average movie watcher would not particularly enjoy it, and this could be a result of them not looking beyond the surface of the characters. If a person does not look deeper into these characters, it could be painfully boring and seem pointless. Your comment about Woodcock being an 'asshole at best' is spot on, but towards the end I did not think him to be an asshole so much, but rather her was simply being genuine to himself, and didn't feel the need to hide who he was from anyone. I would also make the argument that Woodcock was DEEPLY in love with Alma, whereas Alma was in love with her ability to control a controlling man. Strong woman for sure, but equally flawed. Cyril, on the other hand, she was quietly a force of nature!
ReplyDeleteI think I'm privileged in enjoying this movie because I relate to Woodcock's struggle with alienating egocentrism. He's obsessed with his inner world and doesn't know when to sacrifice relationships for it or vice versa. I face similar dilemmas, which may help me enjoy this movie more than less egocentric people would, who may just perceive him as irredeemably narcissistic. Maybe I can (ironically?) enjoy his subtleties better because I'm nearer his narcissism. I can see Paul Thomas Anderson facing the same problems (how could such an auteur NOT be profoundly egocentric?), but he also seems profoundly empathetic in his writing, which I think is why he can write both characters, Woodcock and Alma, along with all the diverse characters in his movies.
DeleteI always admire when people are inevitably and unabashedly themselves, in all situations. So I'm with you in appreciating him in that way.
Your comment on the difference between their loves is definitely something I didn't think of! That's a very interesting take to me, since on the surface it would seem Alma has the more consistent and conventional love, whereas Woodcock's is schizophrenic and tenuous. But Alma does seem preoccupied with the game of breaking him like a horse. I just never considered that his love for her was especially deep, since he seems to express it so conditionally. So that's an interesting take.