Film Review: Our “Phantom Threads” Hold the Secrets to Survival

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

     In social work, we express our life commitment to a more just society, creating opportunities for expression and fulfillment -- and easing suffering in myriad ways, each vital and important.  The film Phantom Thread (a nominee for Best Picture at the 90th Academy Awards) focuses on clinical aspects of this professional promise -- the challenges we face with our clients after they “fall in love,” but the relationship takes a horrid dive toward rejection, misery, and even a desire to put a beloved in harm’s way to once again feel a connection and some sense of control.    

     On the surface, Paul Thomas Anderson’s Phantom Thread is rich with beauty and lavishness. (It won the Academy Award for Best Costume Design.) Yet, beneath this façade, the viewer soon realizes deeply submerged longings and potential destruction in a three-party familial enmeshment. The secret to the survival of each lies in the mysterious “phantom threads” – hidden messages – sown in magnificent dresses. 

     The symbolism of these hidden messages mirrors our professional challenges. Our clients come to us in confusion, pain, and frustration, seeking direction in opportunity and fulfillment. Often, their vision of those essential in past and present exists through a distorted, clouded prism. Through a trusting professional relationship, we listen carefully, identify hidden life-threads, slowly bringing them to awareness, as together, we eliminate internal poisons, a process that can finally set our clients free. 

     To see these realities, we must first take a hard look into our own hopes, challenges, losses, and the terror felt when a cherished familial relationship, one that seems central to our source of life, must be interrupted. Or when a passionate relationship in our present takes a dangerous turn.   

     Please Note: Strong Spoiler Alert beyond this point!

     A period drama set in London’s couture world in 1954, Phantom Thread features Daniel Day-Lewis as Reynolds Woodcock, an obsessively brilliant couturier, elegantly groomed, disarmingly charming and sophisticated, yet at his core a spoiled child. Woodcock is nurtured and protected by his sister, Cyril (Leslie Manville), whom he calls “my old so and so” in a patterned voice, devoid of affection. Cyril, who has never married, caters to his every whim, including dismissing former lovers when her brother tires of them. 

     Through this co-dependent alliance, the House of Woodcock thrives beyond the ashes of World War II, creating masterpieces for the wealthy, the privileged, and royalty itself. Life, as it is, unfolds in a large, elegant townhouse, where Woodcock’s designs are meticulously executed by women who arrive each morning, walk up several flights of stairs, don their starched white coats, and create a master’s vision, their every stitch exemplifying the precision of a committed surgical team.

     Soon a pattern emerges: After each important creation takes life, and each client is catered to in the manner expected, Woodcock falls into a state of exhaustion. The love story at the heart of the drama opens when to restore, he goes to his sister and his country home (at Cyril’s suggestion), visits an inn for breakfast, and falls immediately in love with his engaging, slightly awkward, highly insightful waitress, Alma (Vicky Krieps), who finds deep pleasure providing a huge breakfast (to his exact specification) to her seducer, her “hungry boy.”   

     Woodcock makes it clear to Alma that he has met his fantasy, whom he has been looking for his entire life. She asks him not to hurt her, but he will. We soon see, however, that Alma can more than hold her own.

     After Alma feeds her “hungry boy,” food continues to play an integral part in this spellbinding film. To a boy, mother equals food equals love; and as expected, Alma becomes lover, muse, and more. Yet, there will be trouble when men choose women they see primarily as mother figures to be their lovers. Even with other strong allure, a consuming maternal attraction will eventually cause him to turn on his chosen with criticism at every turn, as well as reject her sexually, or entirely.  

     We also know that this painful dance can be even more intense when a man’s devotion to a deceased mother is as extreme as it is in the life of Reynolds Woodcock. After Woodcock loses his father as a child, his gratitude is endless, as his mother teaches him how to create the kind of exquisite designs that will bring him renown. Woodcock thinks of his mother constantly, has sown a lock of her hair into his jackets in placement over his heart, and recalls that he created her wedding dress when she married again. In failed attempts to be autonomous, he turns to “phantom threads” – which are in essence cries for help.    

     Predictably, Alma faces misery when beautiful dresses do not compensate for the loneliness of her own bedroom, and she asks for the constancy of emotional intimacy. She does find a way that leads to their marriage. Yet, her love’s poisonous internal conflicts remain. 

     Although I do not want to dwell on the fascinating Hitchcock-worthy tension and resolve in this intricate film, I cannot resist a few hints: Watch the mushrooms, and do not miss reading a final message Alma cuts from an exquisite gown. Also, it’s fun to ponder whether Hitchcock’s and Woodcock’s parallel second syllable is a humorous metaphor for the hazards of sexual passion.  

     Phantom Thread is easier to experience fully with the realization that although plot unfolds in gorgeous, intricate mystery, what we witness is not an authentic rendition of actual lives.  What is shown instead is an insightful examination of both regression and control, why intimacy with another is so hard, and the cost and pain of growing up. That said, the film also warns that the costs and pain of not growing up provide far more danger.

SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD, whose private and pro bono clinical social work practice is in Philadelphia, is a certified group psychotherapist and family life educator. She is a recipient of a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Pennsylvania chapter of NASW, and the 2013 NASW Media Award for Best Article. SaraKay is the author of Whoever Said Life Is Fair, Setting YourSelf Free, and Burnout and Self-Care in Social Work. Her writing has been published in peer-reviewed journals, newspapers, and blogs. SaraKay's professional life continues to be devoted to highlighting destructive societal forces through communication, advocacy, and activism. Read more about her work at SaraKaySmullens.com.