Phantom Thread
1
Reynolds has made my
dreams come true.
And I have given him what
he desires most in return.
And what's that?
Every piece of me.
He's a very demanding man,
isn't he?
Must be quite a challenge
to be with him.
Yes.
Maybe he is the
most demanding man.
Morning, ladies.
-Morning.
-Morning, Madame.
Good morning, ladies.
-Good morning, Biddy.
-Good morning, Mr. Woodcock.
-Morning, Nana.
-Morning, Mr. Woodcock.
-Pippa.
-Morning, sir.
Try these.
Reynolds?
They're delicious.
Remember I told you, Johanna?
No more sludgy things.
I didnt know that.
You may have told
it to someone else.
Morning.
Morning, my old so-and-so.
Where have you gone, Reynolds?
There's nothing I can say...
to get your attention
aimed back at me...
Is there?
with a confrontation.
Please?
I'm delivering the dress today...
and I can't take up space
with a confrontation.
I simply don't have time
for confrontations.
Good morning, Countess.
Good morning, Cyril.
Good morning, Peter.
Who's this beautiful stranger?
I need to see you
far more often, Henrietta.
I am very excited.
I am, too. Come in.
Exquisite.
Yes?
Let's take it for a walk.
Beautiful work, ladies.
Thank you very much.
It's beautiful, Reynolds.
Worth everything
we've been through.
I feel like it would
give me courage.
Ladies and gentlemen,
take your seats, please.
-She here?
-Yes, sir.
Well, what do you want to do
about Johanna?
I mean, she's lovely,
but the time has come.
And she's getting
fat sitting around
waiting for you to fall
in love with her again.
I'll give her the October dress.
That's all right?
I have an unsettled feeling...
based on...
nothing I can put my finger on.
Just butterflies.
Been having the strongest
memories of Mama lately.
Coming to me in my dreams...
Smelling her scent...
she's near us.
Very much hope that she saw
the dress tonight, don't you?
Yes.
It's comforting
to think the dead are watching
over the living.
I don't find that spooky at all.
Why don't you go
to the country tonight?
I'll follow tomorrow.
Good idea.
I like that idea very much.
My old so-and-so.
Mr. Hansford?
Mr. Hansford, hello?
-Good morning.
-Morning.
Fill us up please.
And check the oil and tires.
Lots of frost this morning.
It's cold, innit? It's very bitter.
-Good morning.
-Morning.
What would you like to order?
A Welsh rabbit.
With a poached egg
on top, please.
Not too runny.
And bacon.
Scones.
Butter, cream.
Jam.
Not strawberry.
No.
Raspberry.
What else?
Coffee or tea?
Do you have lapsang?
I'll have a pot
of lapsang, please.
Good choice.
And some sausages.
And some sausages.
Show me.
Will you remember?
Yes.
I'm keeping this.
And now?
Will you have dinner with me?
Yes.
For the hungry boy.
My name is Alma.
-Am I late?
-No.
What do you think?
Hm.
I like the sauce.
Custard.
It's quite good.
May I, Alma?
I like to see who I'm talking to.
Here.
There you are.
That's better.
Does you mother have brown eyes?
Green.
Do you look very much like her?
I don't know. I think so.
Do you have a photograph?
Yes.
Will you let me see it?
Not here, at home.
Carry it with you.
Always carry her with you.
Where's yours?
Your mother?
She's here in the canvas.
-What do you mean?
-Hm.
You can sew almost anything
into the canvas of a coat.
Secrets.
Coins.
Words, little messages.
When I was a boy, I started to
hide things in the linings
of the garments.
Things that only
I knew were there.
And over my breast, I have
a lock of my mother's hair.
To keep her
close to me always.
She's quite a remarkable woman.
She taught me my trade.
So, I try to
never be without her.
You must love her very much.
Hello.
This is Alma.
Say hello to Alma.
Hello.
Come on, come on.
-Hello.
-Watch over the house.
I made this dress for her
when I was 16 years old.
Beautiful.
It was for her second husband,
their wedding.
My father had died
many years before.
Our nanny, the evil
Miss Blackwood...
"The Black Death"
we used to call her,
because of superstition, she
refused to help me sew the dress
as she believed it would
bring her bad fortune...
to never be a bride.
Not that anyone
would've had her.
I've no idea how old she actually was.
And monstrously ugly.
So...
and months, hunched over.
Sewing and sweating and sewing.
And the Black Death
never married anyway.
The help I could've had from her.
It was my sister, Cyril,
came to my rescue in the end.
There were endless superstitions
Young girls are afraid they'll
never marry if they touch one.
Models afraid they'll...
marry only bald men
if they put one on.
And where's the dress now?
I have no idea
what happened to it.
No idea.
Um, it's probably turned
to ashes by now.
Fallen to pieces.
And... your sister?
What?
Did she ever marry?
No.
Come over, let's have a fire.
If you want to have a staring
contest with me, you will lose.
Hm.
You are a very handsome man.
You must be around
many beautiful women.
Yes.
Why are you not married?
I make dresses.
You cannot be married
when you make dresses?
I'm certain I was
never meant to marry.
I'm a confirmed bachelor.
I'm incurable.
Hmm.
Marriage would
make me deceitful,
and I don't ever want that.
You sound so sure about things.
I'm sure about that.
I think you are
only acting strong.
No, I am strong.
For who?
Not for me, I hope.
I think it's the expectations
and assumptions of others...
that cause heartache.
Would you help me
with something?
-Yes.
-Come on.
Good, just jump up
on the box for me.
Um...
I think we're going to try and...
pull this back for you.
Pretty good.
A moment.
Save that one for
another time.
Quite nice.
Hmm.
Dead serious.
This one.
Do you like it?
-Yes.
-It's pretty good.
That's it.
Let's get that off you and then...
I'd like to take your measurements.
Is that all right?
And who is this lovely creature
making the house smell so nice?
Hello, I'm Alma.
I'm Cyril.
Sandalwood and rose water.
Hmm, sherry... and...
lemon juice?
Mm, mm-hmm, we had
fish for dinner.
My old sew-and-sew.
Would you mind?
Will you step towards me.
Ready?
Thirty-two.
Thirty.
Thirty-one.
Thirty-five and a half.
Fourteen and a half.
Seventeen.
Twenty.
Just stand normally.
Yes.
I stand normally.
Like before.
-What do you mean?
-Straight.
Straight?
-Like that.
-Yeah, you didn't say that.
Sixteen and a half.
Eight and a half.
You have no breasts.
Twenty-two.
-Yes, I know.
-Thirty-two and a half.
You can drop your arm now.
I'm sorry.
No, no, you're perfect.
My job to give you some.
If I choose to.
Ten.
Nine.
Six and a half.
Twenty...five.
And... forty-five.
That's it.
Would you try
something else for me?
Yes.
You have the ideal shape.
-I do?
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"Phantom Thread" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/phantom_thread_15830>.
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