Even the title, Phantom Thread, sets the mind reeling. The term refers to a Victorian Era phenomenon in which East London seamstresses, utterly exhausted by a long day’s work, continue to go through the motions at home, sewing threads that do not exist. It also evokes the otherworldly quality of artistic creation, some divine and inexplicable force that helps bring a work to fruition. And therein lies the particular wonder of writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson’s beguiling new film about a British dressmaker in the 1950s: It’s a rare combination of audacity and precision, impeccably tailored yet full of mystery and magic, like an essential part of it is beyond Anderson’s control. Just defining what the film is presents an formidable set of obstacles.

Impeccable ‘Phantom Thread’ Doesn’t Drop A Stitch

Photo: Laurie Sparham/Focus Features