Phantom Thread

Today I saw Phantom Thread, starring Daniel Day-Lewis and Vicky Krieps.

Your enjoyment of this film will depend primarily on the lens in which you choose to view the main character, Reynolds (Day-Lewis), a celebrated dressmaker in 1950s London.

One path leads you to a creative genius who is the opposite of eccentric, favoring everything in very specific (perhaps obsessive compulsive) ways. His emotional palette must be clear to begin his morning work; his space must be free from distractions—and if all demands are met, peace remains and politeness ensues.

Another view of Reynolds shows you a narcissistic, paranoid control freak who must maintain a specific decorum to command the respect he feels he's due. Abusive, hypersensitive and passive aggressive, he's attracted to women only for what he can use them for, whether that be modeling, sewing, cooking, serving or sex.

You choose.

Alma (Krieps) is taken by his charm and gets quickly caught up in the glamour of his craft. She's young, but she's also a lot smarter than he (and his imposing live-in sister) gives her credit for. Though appreciative of his talents she can't be bothered with his rules (like not buttering her bread so loudly) and soon devises a most clever way of making him appreciate her. I felt like cheering when she first put her plan into place.

Like all Paul Thomas Anderson films, the score is itself a character, but here I appreciated it more than felt it a nuisance. The pomp and circumstance associated with high fashion in some way warrants it, or even invites it.

Of course the main reason to see the film, unless you're a sucker for claustrophobic tension, is Day-Lewis, who claims this is his last big screen performance. I hope to God he's bluffing, but if he isn't, it's safe to say (as usual) he gave it his "all" and offered complexities to the character that I'm confident no other human being on earth could achieve.

But no, on the whole I didn't really like the film.

Maybe it's the present social climate for women that's to blame, but to be held hostage for over two hours by the whims of a high maintenance brat who happens to be good at his job while a clever, attractive woman adjusts every ounce of her life to accommodate or manipulate his just isn't pleasurable.

And the dresses weren't my style.

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The September Issue

Tonight I saw The September Issue, a documentary that follows famed Vogue editor Anna Wintour in the months leading up to—well—a September issue.

The year is 2007. The financial bubble has yet to burst and excess is exactly what the magazine is going for as they try to break their record for the most pages (they did, with over 800).

Designers, stylists, photographers, models, a celebrity (Sienna Miller, the cover subject) and even the poor documentarian making this film are scrutinized, degraded and scoffed at throughout by the Queen Bee of Fashion. For such a petite lady, she does pack quite a punch.

As the most prominent designers from the biggest fashion houses in the world show their newest lines to her, she looks bored. She tells one he doesn't have enough color and another that there isn't any "evening" in his set.

Little do they know, right?

Having worked in the fashion industry for eight years, none of what happened on screen was the least bit shocking to me, but it did serve as a reminder of what a negative business 'pretty clothing' really is.

What's most interesting in the film is the dynamic between Wintour and legendary stylist Grace Coddington (who has been at the magazine just as long, and began her career as a model). They snip and snark at each other both privately and publicly, then reluctantly administer mutual praise as if they know they should. Both ladies are forces to be reckoned with, and one gets the sense that the combination of their personalities and tastes may be what makes the end product work.

As far as documentaries go, I would register it on the weak side. The director didn't ever bring Anna out of her comfort zone, so we don't see anything that we don't expect to see. Really, the most revealing thing we learn is that Anna has an incredibly pleasant daughter who seems to want nothing to do with the fashion industry.

The conversation about Anna's siblings thinking her profession was trite could've made for wonderful cinema. But all we got was a soundbite.

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