An early attempt at this results in disaster. Alma likes to cook for Reynolds as a way of showing her love and asserting some element of control over their life together. Perhaps more bizarrely, I also quite fancied a mushroom omelette. I ate porridge every day for a week after this. Happily they do, and conviviality reigns as he offers porridge to Alma and instructs his housekeeper to not forget the all-important salt, while Cyril purrs about the delights of cream in porridge. At breakfast the next morning he cheerfully asks for bacon and eggs, before deciding he’d also very much like some porridge. After their triumphant reclaiming of drunken heiress Barbara Rose’s wedding dress, Reynolds’ passions are inflamed. Later, Reynolds is barely able to conceal his disgust at Alma’s noisy slurping of cereal – even though they’re on their honeymoon.īut Reynolds’ mood at breakfast – and his appetite – can vary wildly. Cyril, quietly sipping her tea after finishing her boiled eggs (her breakfast of choice), waits for Reynolds to huff off before warning Alma that breakfast is a sacred time for her brother. Unlike her predecessor/s though, Alma stands her ground, asserting that Reynolds is just too fussy (which he clearly is). Soon after, taking her place at the House of Woodcock’s daily breakfast ritual, Alma’s noisy scraping of butter onto toast jars Reynolds’ nerves. Meals will thereafter be the key arena in which the emotional power struggle of their relationship is acted out, and, as in Citizen Kane, it is the breakfast table which takes on particular significance. Reynolds invites her for dinner and Alma immediately accepts, returning soon after with a note addressed ‘to the hungry boy’ (how on earth did Reynolds survive rationing?). It’s a challenge that Alma more than rises to, setting the tone for the power struggle of their relationship across the rest of the film. As so often in film, flirtation is conducted over food as Reynolds, with a twinkle in his eye, takes away her carefully-written list and asks “will you remember all that?”. “And some sausages”, he adds as an afterthought. Reynolds impresses Alma with both the particularity and size of his appetite as he orders Welsh rarebit with a poached egg, bacon, scones with cream and jam (“Not strawberry!”) and Lapsang souchong tea. Away from work though, it’s a different story.Īfter driving all night to get to his country house, Reynolds stops for breakfast at a hotel where a young and seemingly gauche waitress, Alma (Vicky Krieps), catches his eye and arouses his appetite (hunger and passion are frequently linked throughout the film). Breakfast time is when he gets his ideas in order, sketching dresses over a calm pot of tea before donning his white coat and joining the cutters, seamstresses, fitters and finishers at work upstairs in his Mayfair townhouse. Unfortunately Johanna fails to heed the maxim of the House of Woodcock – that if breakfast is not right the rest of the day is ruined – and after annoying Reynolds over his tea (“I really cannot begin my day with a confrontation” he harrumphs) we know her days are numbered.īreakfast is, of course, the most important meal of the day, and as this early scene demonstrates it is especially so for Reynolds. His sister Cyril (Lesley Manville) is there, as is his current girlfriend Johanna (Camilla Rutherford). We’re introduced to Reynolds during his careful morning routine of dressing and grooming, before descending with him into the cold morning light of the breakfast room. He’s also something of a serial monogamist, a Bluebeard figure who casts off one woman after another once he’s exhausted the bout of creative passion they’ve inspired. He likes a martini before dinner and dislikes (most of the time, at least) pastries for breakfast. He eats asparagus with oil, definitely not butter. Dinner is always in the same restaurant, at the same table. Couturier Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis) is a man of fastidious habits and particular tastes. I treated myself to a ticket in their comfy studio screen, and made sure I ate lunch first. The film was released in the UK on Friday so I went to see it again yesterday at my local cinema, the Genesis on Mile End Road. Indeed this is a thread (cue dressmaking puns) that a number of reviewers have picked up on in their reviews (see online pieces in the New Yorker and Bon Appetit for instance). Not just because it’s a richly crafted film about passion, creation and obsession, but because it’s also – as you’ll no doubt be unsurprised to hear coming from me – a film about food and appetite. Since seeing Phantom Thread just before Christmas I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |