"Scrupulous directors make sure that the sound of their movies is grossly efficient, so that the dramatic meaning of a scene is apparent even in the worst theatre or home system in the country. They also layer in, for those who care about such things, a secondary level of sound-think of the swishing skirts in Martin Scorsese's adaptation of Edith Wharton's "The Age of Innocence.""
"Reynolds must control every aspect of his life or fall into despair. At breakfast, his working-class mistress audibly butters her toast, and he acts as if the day has been lost to him. Excruciation is the movie's dominant emotional mode-not pain but nerves drawn to the breaking point."
"Anderson surprises us: Reynolds's mistress, initially passive, employs stealth and guile and becomes her master's master. Some moviegoers found "Phantom Thread" almost suffocating in its concentrated hush. It is suffocating, but how could Anderson have dramatized the madness of a control freak's world without re-creating its atmosphere?"
Paul Thomas Anderson's "Phantom Thread" exemplifies his directorial approach of using precise sound design and sensory details to create emotional depth. The film centers on Reynolds Woodcock, a brilliant but narcissistic couture designer in 1950s London who demands absolute control over every aspect of his life. His working-class mistress initially appears passive but gradually employs stealth and manipulation to reverse their power dynamic. Anderson layers in meticulous auditory elements—such as the sound of a needle entering fabric or toast being buttered—to build an atmosphere of psychological tension. The film's concentrated, hushed quality creates an suffocating environment that authentically reflects the protagonist's obsessive need for control and the resulting emotional excruciation.
Read at The New Yorker
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