Paul Thomas Anderson is one of the most singular filmmakers working in cinema today. From the melancholy of Magnolia to the ferocity of There Will Be Blood and the density of The Master, Anderson fuses image and sound in a unique and uncompromising fashion that is distinct and unmistakable. Phantom Thread is as unquestionably Anderson as his other films, with exquisite attention sewn into every detail. From the period detail of cars and interior mise-en-scene to the extraordinary costumes designed by protagonist Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis), to the intimately extended character studies of Reynolds, his sister Cyril (Lesley Manville) and the new lady in their life, Alma (Vicky Krieps), Anderson draws the viewer completely into this world, often to an uncomfortable degree. Reynolds’ expectation of complete adherence to his wishes leads to some squirm-inducing sequences, most overtly when the sounds of breakfast escalate to a cacophonous assault. Yet Alma’s commitment to her relationship with Reynolds combined with her measure of him ensures that she holds her own no matter what he says or does. It may seem reductive to describe Phantom Thread as a romantic drama, but in its entirety it weaves the tale of a relationship that is unlike those normally seen in film. It is perhaps this refusal of narrative convention, combined with the sublime level of immersive details, that ensures Phantom Thread is never less than completely compelling and utterly absorbing, threading its way through the viewer’s consciousness to create a lasting and elaborate tapestry.