
Phantom Thread movie review: hate couture
A conundrum of a film that defies genre as it twirls us around a wickedly fascinating triad of gently, quietly manipulative people. A cinematic experience of sly eeriness and oblique mystique.

A conundrum of a film that defies genre as it twirls us around a wickedly fascinating triad of gently, quietly manipulative people. A cinematic experience of sly eeriness and oblique mystique.

Sure, millions of Native people dead and ancient cultures destroyed, but who has to live with that? All the good soldiers who were just following orders, that’s who. Won’t someone think of the white man?

A feature-length Oscar clip, two hours of Gary Oldman stomping around in a Winston Churchill suit. There’s too little drama and too much inevitability in what amounts to a reanimated Madame Tussaud’s waxwork scene.

You can feel the stillness and the heat of this sultry, sensual summer in Italy. This is a glorious romance about falling in love with life itself, and living with gusto.

The most interesting thing about this all-over-the-place drama-thriller is Ridley Scott’s last-minute Hail Mary pass to replace a disgraced cast member. The finale is tense and exciting, but it’s a slog to get there.

Bold, tough, hugely entertaining. Like a new GoodFellas, except about a woman caught up in her own impudence and daring. Jessica Chastain is badass.

Crackles with life and energy, depicting a grand adventure in journalism from almost half a century ago with vigor, suspense, and an urgent relevance for today.

A portrait of grief and guilt that’s only mildly engaging, until it morphs into a wannabe psychological thriller and turns limp, laughable, and just plain icky.

A bittersweet, deeply human tale, one with a documentary sense of discovery to its setting: a little seen, highly insular ultraorthodox Jewish community.

This would-be modern Romeo-and-Juliet tale is little more than a pile-on of class stereotypes, contrived dialogue, and one whopper of a coincidence.