The architect of obsession. Paul Thomas Anderson is one of the most formally ambitious American directors working today — a filmmaker who has, since his 1996 debut, built an extraordinary and largely unrepeatable body of work. Beginning with sprawling ensemble pieces that mapped the emotional wreckage of the San Fernando Valley, he has progressively narrowed his focus until his films became chamber pieces of almost unbearable intensity. What has remained constant is his interest in obsession: the obsession of men who want to win at any cost, of love that curdles into control, of talent that devours everything around it.
Day-Lewis delivers what may be his finest role — a performance of extraordinary internal precision. Anderson gives him 158 minutes to become something genuinely monstrous, and the film never flinches.
A relationship study of forensic precision. Alma finds a way to make herself indispensable — not through warmth or compromise but through something far stranger. With all its weirdness, it is still a love story.