Phantom Thread

SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

The title of this 2017 film, written and directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, is presented with looping lines, similar to thread being woven, but it is winding, possibly showing the twisted nature of its characters. The story takes place in the 1950’s, primarily in London, although the exact time is not specified. Alma (Vicky Krieps), is speaking to someone about famous clothes designer Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis). The name suggests stiffness, which fits Reynolds’s demeanor. The dictionary describes a woodcock as an “Old World” bird, which is in tune with the man’s desire for traditional preferences, and his resistance to change. The first shots of Reynolds show him shaving, combing his hair, trimming his nose hairs, and polishing shoes, which tells us that he is concerned about appearances, which fits his trade, but possibly to the point of not caring about the person that exists beneath the surface. The music, which features a cascading piano, sounds elegant, again reflecting Reynolds’s world. His beautiful London house is in keeping with the man’s personality, definitely not modern, sticking with tried and true designs, but also feeling a bit sterile.

Women enter the house and must ascend steep stairs to reach the exalted artistic height of their employer. They are seamstresses and are part of Reynolds’s female workforce, sewing his name in every one of his designs. They serve him, along with the house staff and the models, as he lords over them like a prince with his harem. There are many close-ups of him, the clothes, his working on drawings, and even the coffee brewing and the breakfast cakes. The camera work gives the film a microscopic sense, focused and restricted, like Reynolds’s life, and it almost feels claustrophobic. He ignores Johanna (Camilla Rutherford), the woman at his breakfast table, as she talks of sampling some food. He says without looking at her “no more stodgy days,” criticizing her mundane conversation. Reynolds’s voice is high-pitched, almost feminine, and it sounds artificial, distancing, as if he is putting on a show of upper-class diction.

His sister Cyril (Lesley Manville), (a man’s name, which, along with being his sibling, probably allows Reynolds, who has trouble relating to women, to better deal with her) joins the other two at the breakfast table. She is very prim and proper. She is also very pale, almost looking like a ghost, perhaps a remembrance of their mother, or someone who has lost some of her life force serving her brother’s artistic endeavors. She takes care of the business part of Reynolds’s occupation. Johanna says she can’t get Reynolds to focus back on her. One gets the feeling that she is one in a string of short-term girlfriends, doomed to be heading toward the exit. He says he must deliver his new dress this day and has no time for “confrontations,” which automatically means he sees her as an impediment to his creative work, not someone with whom he shares his life. For Reynolds, like many great artists, his creations take priority over people. There is an irony in that women finance his work, and he must use female models to display his craft, but they always seem to disappoint him, and he perceives them as being unworthy to wear his dresses.

Little details in the film show how Reynolds requires that everything complies with his precise way of living. For instance, Cyril walks in the house, but closes an open door, because nothing must be out of place. The Countess Henrietta Harding (Gina McKee) arrives, and he greets her warmly, since he is delivering a dress for royalty, which befits his creation. She models it for him as he seriously scrutinizes it to see if it works. He smiles, and she says it was worth all they went through, which makes it sound as if it was an ordeal to get it to meet Reynolds’s expectations. She says to put on the gown will give her “courage,” bestowing on Reynolds’s work powers to change the person that wears one of his dresses.

Reynolds meets Cyril for dinner, whom he often calls his “Old so-and-so.” It is not very affectionate, or personal, and sounds more like someone to rely on over time, which reveals Reynolds’s selfish and dependent nature. She asks what he wants to do about Johanna, who has obviously worn out (pun intended) her usefulness to him. Cyril says she is lovely, “but the time has come. And she’s getting fat sitting around waiting for you to fall in love with her again.” Cyril understands her brother’s ways, but is very direct in dealing with them. She says she will give Johanna the October dress, the fall month symbolizing the movement toward the dead of winter.

He says he has an unsettled feeling brought on by memories of their mother. He has had dreams containing her “scent,” which implies she is still close to him even after her long ago death. He admits that he feels as if she in near them, reaching out to them. He hopes his mother saw the Countess’s dress that day. He says, “It’s comforting to think the dead are watching over the living.” He is seeking her approval beyond the grave, so powerful is her impact on her son. (There will be other reference to wanting to break the limits of mortality in the movie). His mother haunts him, and there is an Oedipal element here. It may be why he has trouble relating to women because they can’t measure up to his mother.

Cyril recommends going to his country house, and he likes the idea. He goes to eat at the Victoria Hotel there and sees a waitress who stumbles about. He is drawn to her, possibly like in Pygmalion, inspiring him to transform something, that has artistic potential in its raw form, into his own creation. She takes his detailed order, then Reynolds takes what she has written down, and asks if she will remember, which she says she will. She smiles, and although this is a kind of flirting, it also seems to be a test. She remembers his order, and, after she serves him, he asks her to dinner. She already has a note ready for him, which says, “For the hungry boy, my name is Alma.” Her prepared message shows her confidence, knowing he would ask her. But, she uses the word, “boy,” not “man,” implying she correctly assesses Reynolds as childlike in his memory game with the order. Also, being “hungry” will be revisited in the story and will refer to sexual and mother-son issues.

At their dinner, Reynolds asks Alma what she thinks of what she is eating. He is observing her, not participating in the meal with her. She says she likes the sauce, but he corrects her by saying it is a custard, thus showing off his superior cultural knowledge. He wipes the lipstick off her, saying he wants to see who he is with. He is controlling the situation. She goes along with it as if it is all playful. He wants to know about her mother and says Alma should always carry a picture of her mother with her, because she should always be with Alma. This advice points to Reynolds’s attachment to his own mother. He says he carries his mother with him, tapping his jacket, which he calls the “canvas,” because he sees his clothes designs as art, like a painter. He says one can sew inside the cloth secrets, coins, words, and messages. His mother taught him his trade, and his work is her legacy that he carries on. When he was a boy he hid things in the linings of the fabric, that only he would know about. He confesses to having sewn a lock of his mother’s hair into the fabric over his breast to keep her with him. She haunts him, and he haunts others with his woven secrets, which lends weight to the movie’s title, Phantom Thread. It gives him a sense of power over the garments he sends away, makes them still his, by knowing secrets about his dresses that the owner does not.

Reynolds says he was sixteen when he sewed his mother’s second wedding dress, his father having died when Reynolds was young, contributing to the Oedipal bond. He says his nanny, the Evil Miss Blackwood, who he called “Black Death,” was ugly, (his revulsion strengthened by the fact that she was a substitute mother), and wouldn’t help him sew for fear of never marrying. He says that there are superstitions about wedding dresses, such as if you sew one, you won’t marry, or, young girls won’t marry if they touch one. There is a belief that models will marry only bald men if they put one on. Here again we have a sense of the magical power that people bestow upon clothing, making it almost a metaphor for how religious beliefs are created. Reynolds does admit that his dresses can decay, since he says the dress he made for his mother probably turned into ashes, perhaps like his mother’s body, but that is why he needs her spirit to live on. Cyril rescued him, he says, after months of sewing, helping him with the dress. Alma asks if Cyril never did marry, which she hadn’t, which suggests that maybe the superstition is true, but it is more likely she sacrificed that part of herself for her brother.

Alma says Reynolds is handsome, has been around many beautiful women, so she asks why he never married. He says he makes dresses, which may mean that those are his brides. He says he is a confirmed bachelor, “incurable,” which is an interesting word, which makes him almost admit that he may feel that his unmarried state is a form of a disease. He says marriage would make him deceitful, and doesn’t want that, maybe because he would have to lie to seem accepting of a spouse, which he knows his demanding personality would not allow. He says, “it’s the expectations and assumptions of others that cause heartache,” so women will expect him to meet their desires, not his own, which he sees as paramount. And, he always is let down by what he expects from a female partner.

Reynolds asks Alma to try on a dress, which turns their night into a very strange first date. She becomes an object, a mannequin in a way, as he pins the dress up. He tries to see which fabric would go best with her. He asks to take her measurements. Then, to add to the oddness of the night, Cyril arrives. She smells Alma, noticing sandalwood, rosewater, sherry, and lemon juice emanating from Alma, the latter because the restaurant served fish for dinner. Brother and sister have acute sense abilities as to the visual, tactile and olfactory areas. Cyril also at this point does not see Alma as an individual, only concentrating on her perception of Alma, as Reynolds only sees her in connection with his art. Cyril records Alma’s measurements, which should be personal, but become just statistics for Reynolds’s art, as she is examined like a medical patient. Alma’s expression is one of feeling uncomfortable. She quibbles over the exactness of his commands on how to stand, as a form of rebellion. He bluntly declares that she has no breasts. He says it’s okay, it’s his job to give her some, “if I choose to.” His statement shows his power over her, as if he can improve her through his, again, magical abilities, but which also shows he doesn’t accept her as she is. Cyril says she has the ideal shape, which first sounds like a compliment, but then Cyril says, “he likes a little belly,” which then takes away from the “ideal’ compliment.

In a voice-over, Alma, as she tries on another dress, says she thought she had too many physical imperfections concerning her hips, breasts, and arms, which reveals her insecurities. But, as she walks with Reynolds on the beach, he holds her hand, so she feels he is drawn to her, which makes his acceptance of her seductive. He says he has been looking for her for a very long time, but as it turns out not as a person, but as a muse whose goal is to inspire, not share, the artist’s life. She says to Reynolds “whatever you do, do it carefully,” which shows how she surrenders to him, but wants his transformation of her to be well thought out; however, it can also be a warning not to hurt her. In the voice-over, she says in his work she becomes perfect, and feels just right. She considers that maybe that is how all women in his clothes feel, which again emphasizes the almost supernatural effect that females attribute to his dresses. As Alma and Reynolds go out dressed formally for dinner, he says how beautiful she looks, and that is making him extremely hungry, which merges culinary and carnal appetites together. But, then Cyril joins them for dinner, deflating Alma’s hope for an intimate dinner. Brother and sister talk, leaving Alma out of the conversation. They stay overnight at the inn, but in separate rooms. Alma seems let down by his lack of an attempt to be romantic, Reynolds feeling more comfortable with his “old so-and-so” sister rather than initiating a physical connection with her.

Alma boasts that she can be still for a very long time, which she feels shows how she a perfect model on which Reynolds can display his dresses. While they are working he asks why she seems “forlorn.” She says maybe she doesn’t like the material of the dress she is wearing, but it is really because she is not sensing that Reynolds feels emotionally for her. Cyril is condescending when she says how the women who purchase their dresses adore the fabric. Reynolds says Cyril is right, not because of the clients, who do not rise to his level of interest, but because the fabric is beautiful, stressing the artistic component. He says snobbishly toward Alma that maybe she will eventually have some taste. She defiantly says, “Maybe I like my own taste.” He says just enough to get her into trouble, because her opinion will only lead her astray, which is way of issuing her a warning, Not wanting him to get in the last word, she defiantly says maybe she is looking for trouble. He quickly demands her to, “Stop!” He won’t tolerate her back-talk, since her view is not valued by him, or her independence in issuing it.

While at another dinner, again with Cyril, and a male acquaintance, two women approach them (we don’t see them, because they are of no importance to Reynolds), and say that one of them hopes to wear one of his dresses, and maybe be buried in one. Cyril gives them a curt thank you and says a “good night” to dismiss them. The male guest, in what is really a cruel joke, says something about maybe digging the dress up after the girl’s funeral and selling it again. Alma acts flirtatious to gain Reynolds’s attention, and suggestively asks him if he had enough to eat, and that he looks thirsty, as if implying that he may still hunger and thirst for sex.

Reynolds, aroused, drives her quickly to the London townhouse and he pulls her inside the bedroom. But the next day at breakfast, she acts familiar, kissing Reynolds before sitting down, but he doesn’t even register her existence, sketching, with no lingering affection. Cyril almost looks like she sees Alma as a complication that she will have to deal with, like another Johanna. Alma makes noise scraping her toast, clanking her butter knife, and pouring tea. He tells her not to move too much, which she, upset by his reprimand, says she isn’t moving too much, only buttering her toast. He says she is very distracting. He is like many exceptional temperamental artists who put their art first to the detriment of others. She says he pays too much attention to things, but he leaves angrily saying it’s like she rode a horse across the room, so magnified are his perceptions of his surroundings. Cyril, giving advice, says it’s better she eat breakfast after Reynolds is finished with his meal, or maybe she should eat in her room. Alma says he’s too fussy, but Alma says this quiet time of the day must not be “misused.” She informs Alma that if breakfast isn’t right, it’s hard for Reynolds to recover for the rest of the day, so fragile is his insulated, ego-centered world.

When Reynolds does dress Alma up, and her hair and makeup are done, she appears regal. He says that he had a fabric that he “rescued” from being lost, as if it was like a rare artifact, so sacred does he regard his calling. He does see her as his muse to make something of this fabric. But again, a muse is only needed in service to the artist, and not as someone divorced from that occupation. His “fussy” ways make him a perfectionist in his work, but a disaster in personal relationships. In one scene, Alma knocks on Reynolds’s door, but he won’t open it because he is “working.” He doesn’t even answer when she asks if he needs anything, implying she does not satisfy his everyday human needs outside of occasional carnal ones.

There is a showing with many models, including Alma, displaying his gowns,. He is anxious and demanding, showing anger at the models for not living up to his expectations. His exasperation drains him, and Alma says in the voice-over that he gives so much to his work that he must come down again occasionally to regenerate (this statement is actually a bit of foreshadowing). She mothers him, which is what he really wants from a woman. She drives his car for him. He lies in bed, and she brings him food. She says he is like a spoiled little baby. He is very tender, open, and she cuddles with him. We now see Alma’s voice-over comes from an interview with a man. She says Reynolds’s down times last a couple of days, and then he becomes difficult again, as we see when Alma caringly brings him tea while working, and he complains that he didn’t ask for it. He then complains that she is exceeding her boundaries by bothering him so late. She says she is removing the tea. In a very good line mirroring his self-centered view, he says, “The tea is going out. The interruption is staying right here with me.” He is not someone who goes with the flow.

While Alma is in the woods gathering mushrooms, we hear the voice of the housekeeper who told her how to identify the ones that are poisonous. This shot is a foreshadowing of what is to occur later. The scene also shows how Reynolds is hypersensitive in everything, including his food, and “detests too much butter.” He doesn’t just dislike it, but has a heightened distaste for it. Alma quietly allows him to sketch in the evening, while she knits a pattern, and they look like an old married couple, comfortable together, but not really interacting. At breakfast, Cyril mentions that a middle-aged wealthy patron, Barbara Rose (Harriet Sansom Harris), may ask Reynolds to attend her wedding, because he has been commissioned to make the gown for the ceremony. Reynolds doesn’t like the idea, probably because he feels this particular woman will especially debase his art. She says that he should accept the invitation, if he can stomach it, another reference to food, and also a bit of foreshadowing. He says to her that he wishes he heard about it later, the early news disrupting his delicate mood for the day during breakfast. But, Cyril reminds him that the woman “pays for this house,” so his sister’s business acumen forces Reynolds to compromise his artistic superiority.

Barbara Rose visits Reynolds’s London house, and Reynolds starts to fit her. She is not an easy client, as she tugs at the dress, pulling the front over her face, saying she still looks ugly, the power of his work not working the magic for her. He attempts to reassure her that he is trying to make a beautiful dress. She insists that he attend the wedding, but although he says it’s not his place, he loses the argument. While at the wedding, she again wants her dress to cover her sagging neck. At the reception, she is drunk, and must be carried out. Alma is upset for Reynolds, saying that the “dress doesn’t belong here,” and of Barbara, “She doesn’t deserve it.” Emboldened by Alma, Reynolds angrily goes to Barbara’s room, and demands the dress back. When he finds that Barbara has passed out in the dress, he sends Alma into the woman’s bedroom to take it off of her. Alma forcibly declares that Barbara can’t behave like this and be dressed by “the House of Woodcock.” After her overt declaration of allegiance, Reynolds kisses Alma passionately, and thanks her.

But, although he is polite to her, Reynolds doesn’t praise Alma to Cyril the next day. He doesn’t even introduce her to the royal guest, the Princes Braganza (Lujza Richter) who is having Reynolds make her wedding dress. (He says it will be so grand that it will be “the only wedding dress,” worthy of the name, so full of hubris is Reynolds). Alma introduces herself to the Princess, and boasts that she lives at the house, attempting to announce her importance. To show her desire to be special to Reynolds. she tells Cyril she wants the house vacated after he goes for one of his regularly scheduled walk. She wants to cook him dinner (food again, as an appetizer to being intimate?) and to dine with him alone. Cyril says it’s a bad idea, not only because it will disrupt Reynolds’s precious routine, but also she probably feels it’s a mistake for Alma to attempt to get too close to Reynolds.

On the night in question, Cyril says “good luck,” to Alma, knowing that she will need it. When Reynolds comes home, Alma tells him she loves him, which he glosses over, again not considering the feelings of another, and wants to know where Cyril is. It’s like he needs his sister with him as an anchor he’s had since his childhood, which he hasn’t really grown out of. She’s a substitute for his mother, and despite her cold ways, takes care of the unsavory aspects of the business, and protects him from the outside world. He appears neurotic as he says he has been disoriented by this disruption in his day, and says he must collect himself. He tells Alma he needs a bath first, and, although briefly acknowledging her kind act, quickly moves on to assessing her dress, her appearance, not the person wearing it, and wants to know when his safety blanket, Alma, will return. For dinner, Alma prepared the asparagus with butter, and he is appalled that she did it knowing how he likes it with oil and salt. Exasperated, she questions what is she doing there, waiting like an idiot for him, not, as we would expect, to come around to loving her, but instead to get rid of her. He says he doesn’t need her, and considers the night an ambush, and he could better be using his time alone. She complains that even when they are alone there is always distance between them. She calls him out on being rude and a bully. The rules he lays down, the stiff, unspontaneous way he goes about living, she argues, is all a game. “Nothing is normal or natural,” Alma says, and his contrivances suggest that they are really props to keep him from being evolved emotionally, looking beyond himself. He is like a “child,” who only wants to satisfy his own wants. He says that if she doesn’t like his life, then she should go back to where she came.

In the interview, Alma talks about how Reynolds needs to slow down a little once in a while. We then cut appropriately to her reading a book about mushrooms, including those that are poisonous, and the music takes on base sounds, indicating something dire is planned to “slow” Reynolds down, as Alma starts cooking. Cyril asks if Reynolds wants her to ask Alma to leave. He says no, but Cyril says he shouldn’t turn her into a ghost (making her only into a memory, like his mother, possibly because he seems to deal better with incorporeal people than live ones?). Cyril says she has grown fond of Alma and doesn’t want her to just hang around waiting for Reynolds to go to her. He acts nasty toward Cyril about her declaring her fondness for Alma. Cyril shows her strength in not allowing herself to be attacked by her brother. She says to him, “Don’t pick a fight with me. You certainly won’t come out alive. I’ll go right through you and it’ll be you who ends up on the floor. Understood?” She is reminding him how she is the strong one of the two. She can walk away, but he depends on her and is vulnerable without her support.

Reynolds is not well when he starts his day. He says the dress for the Princess is ugly, and he falls over, damaging the gown. He goes to his room and vomits. Alma comes in to comfort him, and he says it must have been something he ate. We know it was her that poisoned him, to make him dependent on her. It also shows how she is a formidable opponent. She takes off his shoes and helps him to bed, like a sick child, closing the curtains, sitting up with him, holding his hand, again assuming the role of a mother. Cyril shows up, and tells Alma to leave him, but she doesn’t. He continues to be sick, while the others try to repair the dress. He asks Alma if he will ever get better, like a scared little boy, and she helps him change his fever-soaked pajamas, assuring him she will take care of him. Cyril says the doctor has arrived, but Alma doesn’t want anyone to share in her nursing Reynolds. Cyril is adamant, and Dr. Robert Hardy (Brian Gleeson) enters to examine Reynolds. The doctor calls Alma Mrs. Woodcock, which Alma does not correct, liking that she would be considered in that esteemed role. Reynolds is rude (so what else is new?) and will not allow the doctor to examine him. He tells Alma to get rid of Hardy, showing he has given her primary control over him. Cyril tells the staff that they must get the dress ready to go to Belgium by the next morning, so the workers must work all night. While helping with the dress, Alma discovers and tears out one of Reynolds’s hidden items sewn in the dress. It is a note which reads, “Never cursed.” Perhaps Reynolds is saying that despite his circumscribed way of living, his mother didn’t put a curse on him to have to pursue his profession. But, the fact that he feels defensive about the possibility shows how he does think about leading a doomed life.

Reynolds wakes up and asks “Are you here? Are you always here?” as he stares at a chair and says he hears his mother’s voice. He says he wakes up from dreams crying when he hears her voice saying his name. We see a young woman in a wedding dress who is the apparition of his young mother. He says, “I miss you. I think about you all the time.” Alma comes in, but we still see his young mother in the corner just as Reynolds sees her. He goes downstairs in the morning and the dress is ready on the mannequin. He kisses Alma’s feet as she sleeps on the couch. After she wakes, he tells her he loves her and doesn’t want to be without her. He feels his mortality now after this illness and says he must do what he wants done sooner. He has made mistakes and repeated them and can’t ignore that anymore. He says he has to stop his “sour heart from choking.” He realizes his problems. He says he has been “cursed,” so he contradicts what he was fighting to ignore in the message. He says a house that doesn’t change is “a dead house.” He asks Alma to marry him. She hesitates for quite a while, probably intentionally torturing him for what he has put her through, but then smiles and says yes.

They do marry. But even though Reynolds looks happy briefly, when on vacation in the mountains, he looks annoyed as Alma makes noise slurping her breakfast cereal and buttering her toast. They run into Dr. Hardy at a dinner party, and Reynolds still acts rudely toward him. Dr. Hardy asks Alma at the dinner table what she is doing on New Year’s Eve. She says they will stay in, but he urges her to attend a ball since Hardy senses that Alma isn’t enjoying her life. Reynolds seems upset by Alma paying attention to the doctor. Almost as a form of childish revenge, he is disagreeable when playing backgammon, saying she is taking too long to tumble the dice, criticizing her mistakes, and condescendingly telling her she needs to be able to “count” to play the game. When she loses, he dismisses her, asking for another player. She is angry with him, and storms off. The aunt of the doctor says she is sorry for Reynolds being married to a “toddler.” It is an ironic statement, since it is Reynolds who does not act his age.

On New Year’s Eve, Alma says that they need to go dancing, and she wants to attend the ball suggested by the doctor. Reynolds refuses, and says he will be working. She leaves to go the party, probably feeling as if she is becoming a prisoner in Reynold’s isolated life. He sketches for a bit, but then leaves the house and goes to the boisterous ball. He looks for her from the balcony and sees her dancing with the crowd. He goes on the dance floor and finds her. We hear plaintive music, and he grabs her arm and drags her away. Although he treats her badly, he doesn’t want to be without her, but he wants her on his terms.

Back at work with the seamstresses, Reynolds is irritable, and walks away from his client who is trying on a dress. He confronts Cyril about why one of their long-time clients has not been around. She grudgingly informs him that the woman went to another designer for her dresses. Cyril says that the woman wanted something “chic.” Reynolds curses the word, and tells Cyril, “don’t you start using that filthy word.” He believes in using traditional styles, so despite his telling Alma he needs to change, he can’t. He says it hurts his feelings that the client went elsewhere, as if he has been betrayed. She says that she didn’t want to tell him, because now he is moaning, and she tells him nobody wants to be rejected, but his complaining “hurts my ears.” It’s like she is acting like a stern mother who is chastising a small child. Reynolds then states what is really bothering him. He says that his real problem is that he made “a mistake.” He lost his confidence, and can’t work, because Alma doesn’t fit in well in their house. He feels that she’s turned everything upside down. Again, Reynolds has trouble dealing with anyone that doesn’t play his “game,” as Alma put it. Alma entered the room and hears what Reynolds says about her. Alma says that Mrs. Vaughn, the client, is happy with the dress. Reynolds yells at her saying how he doesn’t care. He has no concern for how the horrible things he says affect her. When Cyril thanks her and Alma says you’re welcome, Reynolds sarcastically comments how polite the two are. He says there is an “an air of quiet death in this house, and I do not like the way it smells.” He earlier said that a house that does not change is a dead house. He now contradicts that statement.

Alma is cooking again, and we see her slicing the mushrooms. She cooks them in butter, which Reynolds dislikes, showing how she is doing it her, and not his, way. As she makes an omelet he sketches and reads. She serves him, as a mother feeds her child, and pours water in such a way as to make it sound very noisy, just to annoy him. He smells the food and then eats it while she looks on. He stares at her while he chews, but she told him earlier that he would lose in a staring contest with her, so we know he will lose that battle. She says, “I want you flat on your back, helpless, tender, with only me to help.” Then he’ll be strong again, she says. She tells him he might feel like he is going to die, but he won’t. Knowing that she is poisoning him, he tells her to kiss him before he becomes sick. She understands his mothering needs and how he must revert to being a helpless child who needs maternal care, because he can’t deal with the world as an adult. He says that they should call “that boy doctor” just in case. But, she says she will make him well again, and they declare their love for each other.

We find that she has been confessing all of this to the doctor. She says if Reynolds didn’t wake up from his illness, then he would be waiting for her in some afterlife, and all she would need is patience for her to get to him again. She now embodies his dead mother, a soul freed from earthly limits, so she can weave a “phantom thread” connecting herself to him. Alma then tells Reynolds that she can envision a future when there are large happy gatherings where friends and others gather. We see Alma with a baby carriage, while they take a walk as Cyril minds the baby. Alma sees herself dancing by themselves on that ballroom floor (so he can still enjoy some distance from others?). She tells Reynolds she sees herself as guardian of his dresses “keeping them from dust and ghosts and time.” There seems to be a desire for immortality through art, as he said to her earlier that he thought his life would be limitless. But, instead, he now wants to enjoy the present moment, and says that we are here right now and “I’m getting hungry.” We end with that equating of sex with food (which may be tainted with poison), as these two strange lovers continue their interesting and warped relationship.

The next film is Paths of Glory.

Blow-Up

SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

Director Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1966 movie primarily deals with the nature of reality and the the artist’s perception and interpretation of the world. Antonioni summed up what the film is about when he said the photographer in the story wants “to see things closer up.” In a way, he is trying to intensely, almost microscopically, understand what most people would not perceive as they go through life. As he enlarges his photographs, there is a moment where he grasps reality, but by blowing up the picture so much, “the object decomposes and disappears,” and “then the moment passes.” The photographer can stand for any artist, including a painter, or a filmmaker, like Antonioni, who tries to view and and pass on what he insightfully observes. But, humans, even talented artists, are limited in their capacity to truly unravel the mysteries of existence, and sometimes by delving too deeply into a narrow aspect of the world, there is a loss of general perspective.

The first shot in the movie is of a patch of green landscape, a park, a locale which is important to the the story. The titles are displayed, but inside the titles are images. This unique presentation suggests that there are secrets, a mysterious world beneath surface perceptions. Art attempts to expose that hidden reality.

The film is contemporaneously set in London during the 1960’s. At that time, there was a great deal of questioning of the established ways of thinking since the world had produced the unpopular Vietnam War and racism. England was a center for a new wave of music, fashion and art. The film opens with a jeep careening around the concrete, stagnant buildings of the city. The vehicle is filled, almost to the point of overflowing, with young people, some wearing mime makeup. The almost surrealistic image implies that youths and artists are here to disrupt and challenge the inert, resistant ways of the traditional view of the world.

We then have a cut to what looks like working class men coming out of the “National Assistance Board” office. These sad looking males are on welfare. Thomas (David Hemmings) appears to be an impoverished derelict, but as the group of men move away from the building, Thomas sneaks away from them, and then drives away in a Rolls Royce. He has an expensive camera that he puts in his glove compartment. Thomas turns out to be a respected photographer who was passing as a street person in order to take pictures of the seedier side of London. Thomas seeks to reveal the underside of things, but he does it in an exploitative way. He has no sympathy for his subjects, but only sees them as food to feed his artistic appetite.

We return to the youths who now loudly run on the streets. We get another surrealistic shot as they rush past some nuns and an out-of-place Buckingham Palace Guard, marching on the sidewalk. This scene is symbolic of the culture clash between religious and government establishments and the rebellious youth. But, it also is a sort of pictorial collage of the elements composing the modern world. Thomas, while smiling, gives some money to the youths as they accost his car. It is an interesting shot. Is Thomas sympathetic to their anarchistic approach, and encouraging their street theater action? But, at the same time, is Antonioni being satiric of Thomas, who has money, and is just showing token interest by dispensing some of his monetary gains derived from using his subjects?

Thomas reaches his studio and tells an assistant that he wants some film developed “right away.” He is very demanding and condescending toward his staff. There is a foreign model in a skimpy outfit who complains about waiting for him, and he tells her, “Good,” as if his inconsiderate action will deflate her self-importance, and help with their session. She says she has to leave soon for Paris, but he is dismissive of her problem. They do the shoot, as he bosses her around. He urges her to do different poses, and stands on top of her looking down. This visual implies sexual domination, with the lens appearing phallic. He says, “Yeah, make it come!” and then says “Yes, yes!” which sound like orgasmic exclamations. After he’s “finished” he sits, looking spent, and she rests on the floor, as if they just had intercourse. The result is the feeling that artistic fulfillment can be as physically satisfying as sexual release. But, the artist’s pursuit of that consummation here is metaphorically compared to sexual abuse.

Thomas then looks at his photos of the men on welfare. He is happy with them, and then tells an assistant to burn the crappy clothes he was wearing to blend in with the men. He then bullies other female models, telling one to “get rid” of her chewing gum, but “not on my floor.” He manhandles one model by grabbing her leg forward after saying “terrible!” To Thomas, the women are like puppets which he manipulates. He tells another that she should thank her lucky stars she is working for him. He is abusive while at the same time he, ironically, yells at them to “Smile!” He tells the models to close their eyes, as if they are not alive, when he leaves. It’s as if they don’t exist outside of his artistic realm. The implication here is that artists insensitively use people for their own purposes.

Thomas does seem to be respectful toward a fellow artist, his painter neighbor, Bill (John Castle). Bill says that when he completes his work he doesn’t appreciate it at first, but later a part of it emerges and “it sorts itself out and it adds up. It’s like finding a clue in a detective story.” His statement foreshadows what occurs later, but it also shows how trying to understand art is like trying to unravel a puzzle, which mimics the artist’s attempt to solve the truth behind what he or she has depicted. Bill says he hasn’t figured out one of his paintings, like it is a subconscious expression that he hasn’t consciously understood yet. Thomas wants to buy that work, or have Bill give it to him, but he tells Thomas no. Thomas’ zeal for discovery makes him want to solve the riddle himself, but he would be usurping Bill’s position, and he has to make his own breakthroughs.

Thomas returns to his studio where there are two girls who jump as soon as he enters, like windup dolls, wanting a chance to be models. He is dismissive of them, continuing his lack of concern for the feelings of others. He drives around, observing, looking for new subjects to explore through the lens of his camera, which is like an enhanced mechanical version of his inquisitive artistic eye. He stops at an antique store bursting with items. The proprietor acts like he doesn’t really want customers, as if he wishes to hold onto his artwork, saying there are no bargains here. Thomas says he’s looking for pictures, but the man says he has “no pictures.” Then, in a reversal of what he just said, asks Thomas what kind of pictures are he looking for. Thomas says landscapes, but the man says there are “no landscapes.” However, there is one on the wall. The man says they are all sold. Maybe all artistic types are protective of their pieces. But, the scene also shows how Thomas, the artist, goes beyond what is told to seek out the reality of the situation. Later, when he returns to the shop, he sees an airplane propeller, and feels compelled to buy it. The antique store is a sort of metaphor for the collage art in fashion at the time. But, modern art, in the form of cubism, tried to say that there was an enhanced reality beyond what the eye saw, and it attempted to present all facets and angles of objects at one time. In this chaotic presentation that overwhelms the senses, we, the observers of this artistic form, zero in on a familiar object to gain a foothold on the unfamiliar reality presented before us. In a way, Thomas’ wanting the propeller is his attempt to anchor himself in the refracted perception of his present existence.

Thomas walks around and comes across a park. He sees a man and a woman going up a hill. Thomas runs up some steps playfully, his photographer’s inquisitiveness making him act like an exuberant child having fun. The man and the woman are in in front of a fence and a building, and the scene looks like a tableau as the two are motionless for a while. Antonioni poses his subjects in a story about a photographer, who also wants to crate art through contrivance with the use of altering lenses, staging, and lighting. Thomas is like a voyeur with the couple, as are filmmakers and their audiences. The couple kiss. The woman, Jane (Vanessa Redgrave), sees Thomas as he goes away and she chases him, saying he can’t just photograph people without consent (what a contrast to today’s world where all are under surveillance). He says he’s just doing his job, which for him selfishly justifies any invasion of privacy. She says it’s a public place where one should be able to be left in peace. He says, “it’s not my fault there is no peace.” His response reflects the tumultuous world of the time where there was no refuge. She tries to grab his camera, but then runs away.

Thomas meets his agent, Ron (Peter Bowles) in a restaurant and shows the shots of the men on welfare. They are black and white shots revealing depressing impoverishment. Thomas is compiling shots for a book and wants to finish it with the green park and the couple so it will end peacefully in contrast to the “violence” of the earlier pictures. Ron says that the ordering seems more real, but it isn’t because, again, it’s manipulated. The artist’s job is to highlight aspects of the world, not reproduce visual replicas. As the two discuss whether having lots of money is the key to freedom, which is antithetical to the prevailing hippie philosophy of the time, Thomas, ever observant, sees a man checking out his Rolls. There are protesters walking in the street with signs advocating nuclear disarmament but there is a policeman walking next to them, again showing different social elements in the same film frame, and stressing the prevailing culture clash. The protestors put one of their signs in Thomas’ Rolls, which gets blown away and left in the street, emphasizing that Thomas cares more about how his photography captures, in a way owns, the outside world, without his becoming involved in its struggles.

Jane, from the park, shows up at Thomas’ flat/studio asking for the film he shot of her and the man she was with. He says he “needs” the pictures, like his demands as a photographer come first. She says her life is already a disaster, and the pictures will make it worse. His response is an uncaring “So what?” He insightfully adds that one needs a little disaster to sort things out, which hearkens back to what his painter neighbor said about how eventually one can make sense out of nonsense. He then says that he thinks she can do modeling, which implies reducing her into another object for his lens. The phone rings and Thomas acts it’s for Jane. But then he says it’s his wife and he tells his wife that the woman he’s with doesn’t want to talk with her, which again shows his insensitivity. He then goes on with a series of contradictions, saying it was not his wife, but he has kids with her. He then says that’s not true, he doesn’t have children. He says that she is easy to live with, then says no, and actually doesn’t live with her. This short speech seems to reinforce the the movie’s theme about how difficult it is to get to the reality beneath appearances. While they listen to jazz, Jane moves to the music. Thomas then directs her, manipulates her, and he becomes a surrogate for Antonioni, wanting her to move the way he wants her to. She tries to defy his manipulation by attempting to leave with the camera when he is not in the room, but he is waiting for her in the hallway, saying he is “not a fool.” Many artists, because they create, think of themselves as gods, having power over the subjects in their work. She assumes he wants sex before he will release the film, so she takes off her top. But, he is emotionally detached and tells her to get dressed. He says he’ll give the film to her, but provides her with a different roll, again controlling the situation for his purposes.

Thomas develops the film. He blows up the shots, and his magnified scrutiny changes what the average person might see, just as the filmmaker’s use of varying camera angles, focus, lighting, etc., change the nature of reality. Thomas sees that Jane is looking off to the side while hugging the man. Was Jane there to set up the man to be killed? He calls Jane, but she gave him a fake number. (Which shows how one must be careful because a deceiver can also be deceived, and which confirms how difficult it is to unearth what is buried beneath the surface). He discovers that there is a man in the trees in one picture holding a gun (possibly the same man who was checking out his Rolls?). He calls Ron, his agent, and says he came upon somebody trying to kill someone, and he probably stopped it from happening by butting in. He appears to be trying to justify his intrusive ways by arguing that art can rescue the living. However, all he is really excited about is discovering some truth in what he caught on film.

The two girls, who previously appeared hoping for a chance at modeling, show up at Thomas’ flat. They go through the models’ outfits. One tries to put on a dress, and Thomas tussles with her. Then the other girl becomes jealous of Thomas’ attention, and then they have a raucous fight, knocking over his photo backdrop. The scene is the opposite of the kind of control Thomas likes to exert, but even in this chaotic scene, he has orchestrated the mayhem. He looks at the photos blown up on the wall again, and now, obsessed with his craft, seems to be oblivious of the women. He then dismisses the girls so he can scrutinize the pictures, unsure of what he sees, but it appears that he did not prevent the crime because there is a form that looks like a body on the ground.

Thomas drives at night back to where he photographed Jane and the man. He finds a dead man near the trees. He appears to be the guy Jane was with. He hears a twig snapping. Or is it the sound of a gun cocking, or maybe the shutter of a camera? Is Thomas being photographed, and is he now being used as the subject of someone else's subject of investigation? He runs back to his studio, which has been tossed, with the negatives and prints gone except for one large, unrevealing photograph of the park scene. When the context is taken away, the image seems meaningless. Could his place have been broken into by the guy who was checking out his Rolls? Maybe the man is the murderer and is conspiring with Jane, looking for the film. Thomas visits the artist neighbor’s house again, but the man is making love with his girlfriend. Thomas looks at the painting Bill said didn’t make sense to him yet, which reflects how Thomas is trying to figure out what his photography might reveal. Bill’s lover then shows up at Thomas’ place. He says that someone was shot, but he didn't see it, only his camera revealed it. She looks at the remaining blown up photo, which is distorted, and she comments that it looks like one of the Bill’s paintings. Thomas agrees. She asks Thomas why did the man get shot? Thomas says he didn’t ask, and then she leaves. Life is enigmatic and it’s not the point of art to explain it, but only to present its possibilities.

Thomas searches for Ron, his agent. He goes to a club where a rock band plays, which turns out to be the real group, The Yardbirds, with then members Jimmy Page (later of Led Zeppelin), and Jeff Beck. The scene looks unreal, with audience members resembling mannequins, like Thomas’models, except for a couple dancing out of step. It’s as if the world has turned into one of Thomas’ creations, or more accurately Antonioni’s, and any attempt at mirroring what passes for mundane reality has disappeared. The band has their song interrupted by static in the speaker. Beck, angry with how his music is being subverted by outside problems, destroys his guitar, and throws it into the audience. (Peter Townsend of the rock group The Who, also exerting life and death over his art, but also performing an iconoclastic act of rebellion, used to destroy his guitars). The audience now becomes animated, and the scene turns into a riot as people try to get the remains of the instrument. Thomas, the photographic artist, a kindred spirit, appropriately, acquires the detached guitar neck and runs out with it. Perhaps in the moment it is like the propeller, an object used as a point of reference amid chaos. He tosses it away in front of a store window filled with mannequins, which again points to the artist turning people into a means to display his work (sort of like the way Daniel Day Lewis’ character uses women in Phantom Thread).

Thomas then arrives at a party where he finds Ron who is totally stoned, in his own way escaping reality. The first model we saw in the film is there, too. Thomas comments that she said she was supposed be in Paris. She says she is, which emphasizes that the movie is a work of art, and is not reflective of literal meaning. Thomas, struggling to find some ultimate truth behind the appearance of reality, says he wants to show Ron the corpse, possibly in an attempt to have someone verify his version of what he saw, and get a shot of it. He is not concerned about contacting the police, but only wants to use the death for his photography. After Ron questions him by asking, “What did you see in that park?” Thomas seems to give up trying to get help in understanding the overwhelming mystery of the external world, and says “nothing.” He seeks escape by going to sleep on a bed.

The next day, Thomas goes back to the park with his camera. However, the body is gone, as if he missed the moment of clarity. The film ends as it began with the return of the rowdy young people again overflowing the jeep, symbolizing a cyclical timeline which does not move toward a linear solution. They pass Thomas and invade a tennis court, where two of their group engage in mime tennis. They pretend to play with imaginary ball and rackets. They act like the “ball” was hit over the fence, and ask Thomas to retrieve it, He plays along, and the camera then focuses on Thomas’ face as he stares at where the “game” is taking place. However, we hear the rackets hitting the ball, so, for Thomas, and us, the game becomes real. Thomas is either delusional, or he is able, through imagination, to grasp the possibilities of other realities by using his artistic potential. Then the racket and ball sounds stop. Thomas picks up his camera, like a painter gathering up his brush, and disappears as the film ends. He, like the movie in which he appears, is an illusion, too, and we are left to contemplate the depth of what we have witnessed, wanting, like the artist, to grasp ultimate meaning, but are unable to do so.

The next film is Hell or High Water.