Alternative Sexuality and Gendered Power in PTA

By Ada Griffin

Introduction

In her foundational essay “Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality,” Gayle Rubin writes that sex, like systems of capitalist labor or governmental apparatuses, is stratified, categorized into “normal” and “unnatural” behaviors. Rubin feels that the shame surrounding some sexual behaviors had been left out of broader discourse. She writes “if the disputes between labour and capital are mystified, sexual conflicts are completely camouflaged.”¹ Where these conflicts are obscured in broader society and discourse, PTA seeks to render them visible throughout his filmography. Through a more frank exploration of the breadth of sexuality, we can gain insight into the social dynamics they reinforce and create.

These marginal forms of sexuality are particularly illuminating in terms of their relationships to gender and gendered power. Sexuality and relationships have always been a site of conflict for women and therefore occupy a central position within feminist discourse. Rubin refers to sexuality as “a nexus of relationships between genders,” through which power dynamics and oppression are often worked out or reinforced.² Debates on the value of feminist campaigns for greater sexual freedom versus those critical of the patriarchal violence enacted within sexual relationships are long and ongoing. However, even though sex can be a locus of violence and repression, the denial of women’s sexuality is equally a function of patriarchy. As Rubin argues:

“Part of the modern ideology of sex is that lust is the province of men, purity that of women. It is no accident that pornography and perversions have been considered part of the male domain. In the sex industry, women have been excluded from most production and consumption, and allowed to participate primarily as workers. In order to participate in the “perversions,” women have had to overcome serious limitations on their social mobility, their economic resources, and their sexual freedoms.” ³

While representations of sexuality and desire tend to sideline the participation and wants of the women involved in them, these films place the women at the center of the sexual dynamics they portray. The four relationships covered in this essay are vastly different from each other. Some of them are more normative than others, some are more equal than others, but all these relationships exist on the margins, outside the bounds of what are broadly considered “acceptable” expressions of sexuality. This is not to say they are inherently empowering; relationships outside of normative society can allow women to gain power within their relationships, but they just as easily can recreate typical, patriarchal dynamics within these alternative spaces. The purpose of this essay is not to make an overarching argument on how gender and power operate within alternative sexual relations. The romantic and sexual alterity presented in PTA’s work is not uniform, nor do his films all reach the same conclusions about stigmatized sexuality and relationships. Rather than providing a unified thesis on how gendered, racial, and state power operate within marginal sexual dynamics, these films allow us to begin to remove the camouflage and take a more honest look at how these many forms of expression and power can work together or against each other.

Looking for a meaningful definition of alternative, I turn again to “Thinking Sex,” which details the ways perceived sexual deviance is persecuted both legally and socially. To explain how she conceptualizes broader society’s attitudes towards sex, Rubin created a diagram, called the “charmed circle,” that displays the kinds of sexual behaviors considered acceptable, coupled with the opposite behavior considered shameful and stigmatized. While not comprehensive, Rubin’s list covers forms of sexuality considered perverse or strange across many different areas, including sexual orientation, marital status, and location, and provides a clear basis for our understanding of what defines sexuality as alternative. These behaviors are not all equally non-normative; certainly, a married, heterosexual couple using protection from pregnancy is not on parr with the stigma associated with, for instance, queerness or sex work. Furthermore, the essay is certainly a product of the cultural context of the 80s; some behaviors Rubin categorizes as stigmatized would have been more acceptable in the modern day, and in earlier periods of greater sexual liberation. However, Rubin’s understanding of these boundaries still works as a clear, useful starting point for our understanding of the vast range of behaviors that fall outside of “normal” sex.

It would require more space than this essay has to catalogue and analyze every non-normative relationship in PTA’s filmography, so I have chosen to focus on four: Amber and her peers in the porn industry (Boogie Nights), Peggy and Lancaster Dodd (The Master), Reynolds and Alma (Phantom Thread), and Perfidia Beverly Hills and Colonel Steven Lockjaw (One Battle After Another). I was drawn to these four because of their unique relationships to power, both institutional and interpersonal. All four somehow deal with questions of how sex looks outside of convention and how it interacts with multiple, often opposing sources of power.

Boogie Nights (1997)

Pornography gives Boogie Nights’ Amber Waves a reprieve from her general disempowerment. Within the isolated world of adult films, Amber is treated as a guiding figure by most of the people she works with. However, these familial relationships are not straightforward or traditional, as they are inextricably linked with sexual relationships. In the film, Amber takes on younger actors, Dirk and Rollergirl, as pseudo-children, explicitly referring to them as such. Though Amber calls Dirk her son, they also have sex both on and off camera. While Rollergirl and Amber never have onscreen sex, virtually every member of their company at some point films together, so it seems fair to assume they have or will at some point in their pornography careers. Just as traditional families are created by procreative relations within heterosexual marriage, Amber’s chosen family is inextricably tied to her non-normative sexuality.

Beyond her motherly position, Amber is treated with respect within her workplace. Fellow actress Rollergirl takes the GED exam at Amber’s recommendation. When Dirk asks permission to do something during filming, both Jack and Dirk look to her; though Jack is the one in charge of production, and the director, he treats Amber with respect, allowing her to decide what her work will look like. During shooting, Amber is the one to decide when they switch positions and whether he should come inside her. Amber is given more agency in her work than some women receive outside of pornography. In the first movie she shoots with Dirk, she plays a film executive that Dirk is auditioning for. She takes control of the scene, examining him and his fitness for the role before they begin to have sex. She is the primary driver of the encounter, presented as confident and commanding.

While her life within the world of porn provides her connection and authority, this does not translate into the world outside of pornography. In fact, her non-normative lifestyle works against her. Later in the film, Amber goes to court, seeking partial custody of her son, which is explicitly denied because of her participation in pornography. Drawing a parallel between Amber’s role in that first film and her meeting with the judge, the complete incongruence of these two worlds is obvious. Notably, Amber is styled quite similarly in these two scenes—sleek updo, dramatic eyeshadow, hoop earrings. Both outfits incorporate pink, with a blazer layered over. It is clear Amber seeks to create a greater degree of professionalism with her second look; in court, she wears a button down rather than a low-cut dress and has not allowed any face-framing strands to escape from her updo. This modified outfit is more focused on formality than erotic appeal, but she still chooses to draw from that first look. It seems she seeks to recreate or reclaim that same power she experienced on set and within the porn industry at large, hoping some of her influence and respectability would carry over.

Even during these empowered scenes of Amber, the film reminds the viewer that her power in the scene is not reflective of reality. As Amber and Dirk begin having sex, the image is windowboxed, showing us a shot within a shot. Moments later, the camera tracks across the many crew members before zooming in on the in-universe camera. We then see Dirk and Amber at an even smaller size, placed upside down to reflect the way cameras capture images. The viewer is reminded of the constructed nature of this scene; that it is a film, a performance rather than the characters’ reality. The fact that we see the image of the in-universe film upside down only further emphasizes that this is a glimpse into a different life, a fantasy world where these characters are empowered and supported.

Conversely, the court scene shows us what Amber’s life is like outside of this constructed fantasy world. She arrives in court without a lawyer, clearly ostracized from traditional legal systems. Her ex-husband and his lawyer claim that they have not allowed her to see her son because of her involvement in pornography and drugs, arguing that the home she lives in with other people who work in adult films and use drugs is not a “reasonable place” for her son to spend time. While Amber tries to argue for herself, the judge is unsympathetic. The film does not even show the rest of the meeting, instead immediately cutting to Amber weeping outside the courthouse. This cut tells us that the rest of the argument was unimportant—her fate was sealed the moment her previous arrests and sex work were revealed to the judge. The contrasts between this scene and the fictionalized erotic film could not be clearer. While in the latter she was largely centered in the frame, sitting in the middle of the desk, in court she is to the side, deferential to the judge. During filming, she speaks with confidence, taking on a sultry tone, while in this later scene her voice shakes as she speaks quietly to the judge. Visible behind the judge are two photographs: one of then-governor Jerry Brown and one of then-president Ronald Regan. Regan was very anti-pornography, running a heavily criticized investigation that linked watching pornography with violent crime. The inclusion of this photo further emphasizes the tragedy of Amber’s position; the government, on a judicial and legislative level, was against her work, viewing her as degenerate. She never had any real hope while working within a legal system designed to fight the industry she works in.

While she is more influential and respected within the sphere of pornography, this alternative community is far from utopian. Amber’s chosen family is no less unstable than her biological one. It is not free of dependence on community approval but is simply reliant on the adult film industry rather than the court system. Their found family is contingent on all members participating in pornography in some way. Dirk briefly leaves their company to pursue music after a drug-fueled outburst at Jack. During this time, he and Amber have no contact. In fact, when Amber tries to comfort him during the initial argument, he angrily tells her to “shut up” and that she is not his mother. His rejection of their work is coupled with a rejection of her maternal role. This argument also parallels Dirk’s earlier fight with his biological mother before he left to pursue porn. Dirk rejects traditional family life through abandoning his mother and does the same with Amber when he turns away from porn. During their time apart, Amber tells Rollergirl she misses her “two sons,” referring to Dirk and her biological son in the same manner. She is kept from her sons by vastly different means, but the result is the same; she is unable to reunite with them because of their opposing lifestyles.

Fortunately for Amber, her separation from Dirk is not permanent. Dirk turns to Jack and Amber for help after a frightening encounter with a drug dealer. After his return, Dirk lies in Amber’s lap and weeps as she strokes his hair. The shot places her in a very maternal position, holding her “son” while he cries like an upset child. While her biological son is gone, her quest for him seemingly abandoned, her chosen and prodigal son has returned. Jack’s leg is visible in the corner of the shot, but not his full body. On the one hand, the blocking hammers home the familial structure they’ve created within the world of porn; mother and father both tend to their child in pain. However, Jack, as the head of their company, also represents the presence of the industry they work for in the relationship. While Amber and Dirk’s relationship is the center of the shot, the porn industry is an ever-present force, always encroaching on moments of familial care and connection.

The film ends with a montage of the various characters finding happiness and fulfillment. The sequence has a largely cheerful atmosphere and includes several characters achieving ongoing dreams and advance in their careers—at one point, Amber films a commercial for the new business her co-worker and friend has started. However, this moment does not signify a permanent career change. The montage ends with a scene of Amber and Dirk preparing to film together. We see Amber through her reflection, the inverted version of herself. This recalls the upside-down image in the camera during the first filming sequence, once again pointing to the unstable, illusory nature of her community. Her expressions are difficult to read, and she sighs repeatedly. Even if she has sought out other ventures, she remains tied to porn, and her relationship with Dirk is still contingent on mutual participation in their industry. This ending, while cheerful, contains some ambiguity. Her life is still inextricably tied to her work, and whether she chooses the world of porn or seeks out a more conventional lifestyle, Amber is beholden to a stratified system to protect and build her relationships.

The Master (2012)

The Master’s Peggy Dodd in many ways perfectly exemplifies the dutiful 1950s housewife; at the same time, she utilizes her proximity to her husband to gain power and influence. Lancaster, Peggy’s husband, runs a movement known as The Cause, which claims to allow followers to recover memories of past lives through intensive therapy. Peggy believes deeply in his organization and does everything she can to protect the sanctity of her husband’s work as he writes his second book. She is an important figure within The Cause, experienced enough to perform the same processing rituals her husband does and always placed at his side during important events. However, she is always secondary to him. While she offers her husband guidance, Lancaster only really heeds her advice when it does not inhibit any of his preexisting desires. While Peggy stands beside her husband during official functions, she is a largely silent figure. Her influence only goes as far as Lancaster allows it to, and her desires are always secondary to his.

Through sexuality, Peggy can take on a more dominant role than her position typically allows. Shortly after Freddy Quell, an unstable alcoholic Lancaster has taken in, violently attacks a detractor of The Cause, Peggy approaches her husband in the bathroom as he washes his face and tells him that he “can do whatever you want as long as I don’t find out,” presumably referring to an affair, before manually bringing him to orgasm. There has been no indication Lancaster is interested in any of the women he has interacted with, leaving us to assume this comment could only really be about Freddy, the man he has taken an interest in against the advice of his loved ones. She tells him he is not allowed to drink any more of Freddy’s home-brewed alcohol, making her husband repeat the phrase back to her in agreement before he can orgasm. The moonshine Freddy brews is what initially brings the two men together, so this comment points to a larger desire to be rid of Freddy. It is the only time Lancaster agrees to reject Freddy in some way. This sexual encounter is non-reproductive (and would be no matter what had occurred, as Peggy is already pregnant) and very impersonal, with both parties remaining fully clothed. This moment seems to be entirely about gaining power, as Peggy utilizes his sexual desire to order him around.

The blocking of the shot emphasizes Peggy’s growing dominance throughout the encounter. The shot begins with Lancaster alone in the bathroom, centered in the frame as he washes his face. As he orgasms, Lancaster doubles over, leaving Peggy standing above him, now more centered in the frame than he is. While his face was initially visible in the bathroom mirror, hers is now the only one we can see. Through this encounter, she grows more central and therefore more powerful.

While, as far as we see, Lancaster does stop drinking Freddy’s hooch, Peggy cannot get Lancaster to give up on his relationship with Freddy. When she and Lancaster’s daughter beg him to admit that Freddy is beyond help, he completely dismisses their concerns, calling them “food for thought.” In the very next scene, Freddy is released from jail, and he and Lancaster engage in a passionate embrace upon his return. The two hug before falling to the ground, rolling around in the grass, pseudo-wrestling. At one point, Freddy is on top of him, straddling Lancaster’s waist and pinning him to the ground. Peggy walks onto the porch as Lancaster drags Freddy across the ground by his pant leg, quite literally ripping the other man’s clothes off. The blocking emphasizes her insignificance in Lancaster’s life. While she is above the men, signaling her important position withing The Cause, she is not central to the frame. Lacaster and Freddy are in the foreground of the shot, in the light of the sun, while Peggy is in the background, cast in shadow. It is a complete contrast to her central position in the scene in the bathroom, showing the viewer that her influence is limited to sex.

It’s notable that this encounter, while not explicitly sexual, involves more intimate physical contact than Peggy and Lancaster’s moment in the bathroom. While sex with Lancaster may provide her power, it is momentary, and their connection pales in the face of his relationship with Freddy. There may be dominance, but there is little intimacy, with none of the deep feeling he holds for Freddy.

Several other moments in the film emphasize Peggy’s insignificance relative to Freddy. A montage of life in The Cause, during which Freddy repeatedly rejects or resists the various therapies he is asked to undergo, ends with Lancaster hugging the other man before a crowd. It then cuts to Peggy standing alone, walking up the stairs to announce to the room that a conference will be held to celebrate the completed second book. Placed together, these two shots emphasize the difference in their dynamics with Lancaster. Peggy, for her obedience and devotion, is left alone, while Freddy is embraced for his petulance and resistance.

When the conference happens, the scene begins focused on Freddy as he makes his way to his seat. In one particular shot, he sees and shakes hands with Clark, Lancaster’s son-in-law. Peggy is seated onstage, initially visible in the background of the shot. As Freddy leans forwards, her form becomes blurred, his body at one point entirely covering hers. She comes back into view only once Freddy sits down. As on the porch, Peggy is above Freddy physically, symbolizing her higher status within The Cause, but she is in the background of the shot while Freddy is in the foreground, the focus of the shot. While she may seem dominant, she is also remote, not central to the frame. Peggy can only be centered when steps aside, in this case when he decides to sit down, and more generally when he removes himself. Freddy eventually does just that by leaving The Cause.

Even when Freddy himself rejects the man, Lancaster is unable to let their relationship go, and he eventually tracks Freddy down to ask that he come back. Peggy is in the room when Freddy enters, seated to the side of Lancaster’s desk. The positioning of the characters establishes how, even now, Peggy is on the outside of Freddy and Lancaster’s relationship, unable to change it. They are positioned close together, looking at one another, while she is to the side of the frame, not at the table with them. Peggy is also seated while the two men are standing, emphasizing her less active role within this interaction.

During the conversation, Peggy is clearly upset, eventually storming out of the room. Unaffected by her outburst, Lancaster still begs the belligerent Freddy to return, eventually performing a warbly rendition of “Slow Boat to China” to the other man. He sings, “I want to get you on a slow boat to China, all to myself, alone.” This lyric stands out; in his fantasy, he has left his wife behind, focusing entirely on Freddy. The song asks that the subject will “leave all your lovers weeping on the shore,” implying of course that the speaker will do the same. This moment hammers home the couple’s dynamic throughout the film. While during sex, Peggy can command Lancaster, her requests do not truly impact his actions in the long term. Her dominance is temporary, an illusion of power rather than any lasting influence. Even though the two are not engaged in a romantic or sexual relationship, Freddy has a greater hold on Lancaster than Peggy ever does.

Phantom Thread (2017)

Alma and Reynolds’s relationship in Phantom Thread, while possibly the most traditional of the four relationships featured here—a white, heterosexual marriage, unconnected to a fringe social movement—and is also the only one which does not involve onscreen sex. At the same time, it is also arguably the furthest from the norm. Every interaction, every look, is a shifting play with dominance. The lack of literal sex telegraphs that the erotics in this relationship are a constant, 24/7 undertone of the partnership. Even though their relationship lacks common visual signifiers of BDSM—leather, latex, ropes, and chains—Alma and Reynolds’s play with domination and submission are as connected to classical BDSM relationships as that seen in One Battle After Another between Perfidia and Colonel Lockjaw (covered in the following section). While the methods of domination are likely unfamiliar to most, the fundamental logic of S&M, the desire to enact the experience of inflicting or receiving pain and to play either a submissive or dominant role within a romantic or sexual relationship remains the same. Alma’s method of domination is poisoning, rendering Reynolds so ill he has no choice but to hand over control, allowing her to take care of him. This is virtually the same as the use of, say, handcuffs to restrain a partner so that they are placed in a submissive position within the scene.

In the beginning of the film, the power dynamics in their relationship may seem straightforward. Certainly, there is little ambiguity in who holds greater social power. Reynolds is an established, wealthy dressmaker, who plucks Alma out of obscurity, whisking her away from her countryside waitress job to his glamourous London mansion. While Alma holds no structural power over Reynolds, even before their relationship entered a more violent territory, she could not be categorized as submissive. On a formal and structural level, the film upsets the easy binary of powerful and vulnerable within their relationship. The movie is framed by Alma’s narration as she recounts the story of her relationship to a man we later learn is Reynolds’s doctor; Alma quite literally takes control of the narrative; she is the one with power over the story and gets to determine how she and Reynolds are represented.

Outside of the narration, the blocking and framing establish Alma’s dominance (or at least her desire for it) even before Alma begins taking steps to shift power within her relationship with Reynolds. At the same time, these scenes also show Reynolds’s initial resistance to relinquishing power and his eventual submission. Both in and out of her narration, Alma is often shot from a low angle or positioned in the frame so that she is somehow above Reynolds, even though she is physically shorter than him. Take, for instance, the scene where Reynolds fits Alma for a dress on their first date. While he is the creator, not the model, and presumably the one in control, her position on the riser places her above him. The shot destabilizes neat, conventional understandings of power, leaving the viewer unsure of where each character (symbolically) stands.

While the blocking frequently places Reynolds in a lower position in the shot, it’s notable that he is usually shot at an eye-level or low angle. The film does not cleanly divide the characters into low and high, dominant and submissive; Reynolds’s feelings at the prospect of relinquishing power to Alma are constantly changing. The exception to this rule is during moments of physical illness, when Reynolds has no choice but to relinquish power to Alma. The first time he gets sick, the only time it happens without intervention from Alma, we see him from a high angle. Alma’s narration tells us that it is during periods of illness he becomes the most “open and tender,” freely asking Alma for her company and care rather than adopting a fiercely independent attitude.

While he is rarely shot from a low angle outside of scenes of illness, the blocking still reveals some desire for submission on his part. In one sequence, Alma and Reynolds eat breakfast together the morning after Barbara Rose’s wedding, a moment of happiness in the couple’s relationship. Here, we see both characters from a low angle. However, Alma is looking straight forward at Reynolds, while the dressmaker is hunched over, head down as he puts on his tie. His position is one of deference, almost as if he were lowering his head for a yoke. While he is higher than her, standing up rather than sitting down, he adopts a lower position, seeking out at least some degree of submission.

However, Reynolds often does not take kindly to Alma’s attempts to gain power. Only a few scenes after this breakfast, Alma makes a larger ploy for dominance to a much different reception. She surprises Reynolds with dinner she prepared, interrupting his meticulously crafted routine. When Reynolds arrives home, Alma is standing on the stairs waiting for him. In the frame, she is placed very far above him, forcing Reynolds to tilt his head back to look at her. The blocking represents her desire for greater control of his life, as she intentionally positions herself so that she will be far above him upon his return. Rather than taking pleasure in her superior position, Reynolds moves up the stairs to join her at the same level, reclaiming dominance within the frame. The shift signifies his irritation, his resistance to greater submission.

Shortly after this evening, during which Reynolds and Alma argue about their relationship, Alma poisons Reynolds for the first time. Just as with his first (natural) illness, Reynolds is completely incapacitated, and Alma steps up to care for him. During this sequence, Reynolds is largely shot at a high angle, while Alma is shown from even more dramatic low angles. Even when the camera does not signify his powerlessness in this moment, the shots are almost always blocked so that Alma is above him, or else guiding him through the room. His poisoning forces him into a submissive position.

The next morning, Reynolds wakes up mostly recovered from his illness. He walks out of his room to find Alma asleep on the couch. While they begin in a reversal of their roles from the night before—Alma asleep, Reynolds standing above her—he does not maintain this position, choosing instead to kneel before her and kiss her feet, perhaps the ultimate sign of submission, before joining her to sit on the couch. It seems he enjoyed his passive role as he seeks out submission rather than trying to reclaim dominance, lowering himself beneath Alma rather than trying to overcome her within the frame. Once she wakes up, Reynolds asks Alma to marry him, despite his previous promises to remain a lifelong bachelor. His choice to commit to her, his desire to change his ways, tracks directly to a moment of increased dominance for Alma.

While, over time, Reynolds grows increasingly dissatisfied with Alma’s grabs for power in their relationship, the final scene of the film cements his true longing for forced submission. Weary of her husband’s dissatisfaction, Alma makes Reynolds a poisoned omelet. As Alma prepares the dish, the two characters share a series of glances, a perverse parallel of the bashful glances of new lovers, like those they exchanged during their first meeting in the cafe. Reynolds watches her suspiciously, the reality of what she’s done clearly dawning on him. We see her almost exclusively from a low angle in this sequence, while he is at eye level, and in one shot at a high angle. While he is not yet poisoned, he now knows it is coming; the high angle speaks to his desire for incapacitation, his openness to Alma‘s dominance. She seems coy, enjoying the chase, the thrill of discovery. Even when they are across the room from one another, they are often shot in a close up, expressing the intimacy between them. When they sit down so Reynolds can eat, the dressmaker stretches out the moments before he takes a bite. Reynolds clearly enjoys the game they are playing, building anticipation for both of them. Once he has eaten, Alma tells Reynolds, “I want you flat on your back. Helpless. Tender. Open.” There is a clear erotic connotation to her desires—her phrasing could just as easily apply to a wish for sexual dominance as to her longing for physical caretaking.

In response, Reynolds tells Alma, “Kiss me, my girl, before I’m sick.” In this moment, he finally accepts his desire for submission. The shot begins with Reynolds standing, leaning down to meet her mouth where she sits beneath him. However, as they kiss, he twists his torso so that his head is beneath hers, his body almost in her lap. This moment speaks to the way power operates within their relationship. Reynolds’s submission is not inherent to his role; he holds more social power than Alma, as an older, wealthy man, a native English citizen who is already established in his industry. He is above her in the social order; his submission is a choice, something he must willingly give in to rather than a preexisting dynamic. He elects to place himself beneath her, changing his position to do so.

While Alma is dominant in their relationship, that does not mean she occupies the masculine role in their pairing, or even that her role is separate from patriarchal influence. Their relationship involves a complex configuration of gender roles. On the one hand, masculine and feminine roles are reversed, with Alma in the dominant position over her husband; on the other hand, Alma’s power within her relationship with Reynolds comes from a traditionally feminine place. She takes power by secretly poisoning his food, utilizing the domestic (typically feminine) sphere to bring him down. Reynolds is a very wealthy man, and his routine, perfect food prepared by staff is something he takes for granted. It is because his food is not something he has to consider for himself that it is so easy for Alma to tweak it unnoticed. It is because of her position as a woman, a wife, that Alma can take power, not in spite of it. The kind of power she takes is, in some ways, also feminine. She leaves him sick, helpless because she wants to care for him and nurse him back to health. The infliction of pain she desires is in pursuit of a greater role as a caretaker. Their relationship is not a complete subversion of traditional heterosexual dynamics; it merely complicates them.

Though the pair seem happy and secure in their relationship by the end of the film, a closer reading of these scenes reveals that whether this brief respite will translate to a meaningful increase in equality in their relationship is left ambiguous. The film ends with Alma’s vision of their future life together. In this fantasy, Alma seems to have taken on some of Reynolds’s responsibilities within his business. We see her examining a dress, dressed in a black vest over a white button down. Her outfit and behavior resemble Reynolds. This vision contrasts the position she has held in the House of Woodcock previously, as one seamstress in a crowd of many, outfitted in identical white coats. She hopes to go beyond the position she is relegated to as a woman, seeking entry into the male-dominated leadership position. This dream is clearly one of equality, a future in which they are partners. The viewer is left to wonder just how much of this dream will come to pass. This is not a vision of the future they will have, but the one Alma desires. And it’s notable that previously, after periods of incapacitation, Reynolds always returns to his same domineering, aggressive persona. When Alma finishes describing her fantasy, Reynolds says, “Yes, but right now we’re here. And I’m getting hungry.” While he does not reject her desires, he also does not seem to share in the same longing for futurity or desire to plan the rest of their lives. His focus is on this current moment, what he needs in the now.

The film is so contained, so limited to the domestic sphere and the one-on-one interpersonal interactions between the pair that it is easy to forget that Alma remains largely dependent on Reynolds for the life she currently has. Even if they have struck a balance between themselves, Alma is still systemically vulnerable. The home she lives in, the business she works for, the life she leads are all from Reynolds. The ambiguity of the ending is intentional, leaving the viewer to create their own vision for the characters. While it may be easy to buy wholeheartedly into the possibility of a happy, if masochistic, ending for the couple, Phantom Thread is ultimately uninterested in providing the audience with a clear-cut answer to how love and power work when they cross or run counter to lines of societal status and influence. What is in Reynolds and Alma’s future is unclear, and we must content ourselves with the now, with the dynamic they have forged for themselves in that final moment.

One Battle After Another (2025)

One Battle After Another’s Perfidia Beverly Hills and Colonel Steven J. Lockjaw’s relationship is defined by two opposing sources of power: the sexual and the structural. Theirs is perhaps a more classic example of a BDSM relationship than Reynolds and Alma and reverses the power dynamics of the former’s non-sexual relationship. Perfidia, a wanted revolutionary, takes on the role of the dominatrix, and Lockjaw, a decorated military officer, plays the submissive. However, this reversal is entirely a performance, and Perfidia’s power is completely confined to the sexual sphere.

The camera positioning and blocking of the scenes between Lockjaw and Perfidia emphasize the fragility of Perfidia’s dominant role. Crucially, Lockjaw enjoys the illusion of disempowerment, not the actuality of it. While he may seek a submissive role in their sexual life, he has no qualms about utilizing his systemic power to secure it. This leaves Perfidia constantly vulnerable, forced to continue their relationship for survival. At their first meeting during the French 75 raid of the detention center, Perfidia finds Lockjaw asleep in an armchair and stands above him, holding him at gunpoint. While she is ostensibly the one with power in this scene, and is also literally above him the entire time, both characters are shot at a low angle, making them appear larger and more threatening. They hold different kinds of power in this moment. Hers is temporary—in this specific moment, she is the one with the gun—while his is long term, institutional power.

Later in the film, Lockjaw discovers Perfidia planting an explosive in a government building and tells her he won’t report her as long as she meets him in a hotel that night. She begins the scene positioned above him, standing on the toilet to place the explosive in the bathroom vent. She looms over him in the frame, appearing much larger and more powerful than him. However, this is a momentary illusion. Even in the frame where she appears more dominant, she is also quite literally backed into a corner, as Lockjaw’s body blocks the stall door. She must step down from her position to move past him and exit the room, lowering herself before him literally and figuratively as she agrees to his terms. While she begins the scene looking down at him, she ends the encounter looking up.

When the two meet up to have sex, Perfidia wears Lockjaw’s hat and threatens him with his own gun. She gives the orders, while he remains obedient and subservient. Their sexual relationship involves a literal reversal of roles: Perfidia plays the officer, while he plays the frightened citizen. Lockjaw finds sexual pleasure in finding a release from his usual role, allowed to submit rather than maintain authority. He more specifically enjoys the racialized connotations of the scene; Lockjaw himself admits to having a racial fetish for Black women. Visually, the behaviors they engage in resemble the methods of arrest and capture the government uses against citizens, including other members of Perfidia’s revolutionary group. The similarities between this sexual scene and a police arrest are certainly not accidental; the fear of police within Black communities is widespread and widely known. Lockjaw stands against the wall, his hands raised in the air, while Perfidia holds his own gun against his head. His sighs of pleasure and anticipation could just as easily be gasps of fear in a different context.

The connection between systemic, institutional violence and BDSM is nothing new. In her 2008 book Techniques of Pleasure: BDSM and the Circuits of Sexuality, Margot Weiss performs an anthropological study of the San Francisco BDSM community. In interviews, Weiss asked participants how they felt about connections between real life oppressions, specifically racialized ones. While the various people of color fell across a wide spectrum of thought, nearly all of them had clearly thought through the racial implications of the behaviors they engaged in. However, the same was not true for white participants, many of whom either felt the consensual nature of the scenes could “disconnect the social real (of racism) from power exchange,”⁴ or else had not considered the issue before. As Weiss points out, the ability to disconnect yourself from the implications of various methods of violence is itself a privilege. She writes that this disconnect provides an opportunity for “privileged subjects…to imagine themselves free from oppressive social norms, a situation that reinforces their very privilege.”6 While Lockjaw can briefly escape his societal role during sex, Perfidia cannot do the same. She has been coerced into sex with him under threat of arrest, and likely violence. Her performance of dominance is merely an extension of Lockjaw’s true, societal power. The question of Perfidia’s wants is left ambiguous in the film; she does seem to have a desire for power, but we are given very little access to her thoughts and feelings outside of the performative role she takes on. Whether or not she wanted any part of this relationship is not clear, but it is also not a question Lockjaw tries to answer. The question of her desire is perhaps not a relevant one, as either way Lockjaw is employing coercive power to get her to enter this relationship, without concern for what she wants. And either way, it does not change her disenfranchisement in any way; her role is all performance and affords her no actual power. The scene’s visuals nod to the impermanence of her dominance. We see them both in silhouette; they are performing, playing the roles of archetypal characters rather than truly existing as full, complex people. While Perfidia wears Lockjaw’s coat and hat, taking on the visual symbols of his position, they are both slightly too large for her.

The immateriality of Perfida’s power is cemented after she is arrested. She awakes afterwards strapped to a hospital bed with Lockjaw sitting at her side. He tells her that she will likely be imprisoned for decades as “this department doesn’t do any special favors, especially for Black girls.” While in their sexual life, he sought to reverse to racial dynamics, he now clearly has no discomfort with weaponizing his institutional and racial privilege against Black women to force them into sex. Rather than openly state his motivations, Lockjaw forces Perfidia to engage in a performance of desire, prompting her to ask for his help and profess love to him. Once she complies, he removes his hat, a symbol of his military rank. This signifies that they are entering the fantasy world, the world of performance. The way the scene is shot signifies that his playacting of subservience and devotion has no material truth. Hat removed, he leans on her by her feet, a show of devotion much like Reynolds’s kiss on Alma’s foot. However, we still see him from a low angle throughout this scene, a symbol of the true power he holds over the situation. In turn, we see Perfidia from overhead, the highest possible angle, as he leans on her. She is at her most disempowered here, left with absolutely no choice but to turn to Lockjaw. The scene ends with a low angle of Lockjaw as he goes to kiss Perfidia. Lockjaw bends over the bed to reach her mouth, and from the angle the camera is at, there is almost the illusion he is moving up to kiss her. However, the viewer knows this is not true; Lockjaw is seated above her, looking down. As they kiss, Perfidia’s bonds are very visible; even as she leans into the performance, the viewer is reminded that this is not consensual, that Perfidia has no choice in the matter. As he kisses her, Lockjaw promises her “the full embrace” of the United States Government. He explicitly connects their relationship to institutional power, likening the protection of the state to the erotic or romantic hug.

The film continually reminds the viewer of the presence of governmental power in their relationship. Perfidia is placed in a witness protection program, given the appearance of independence—a home of her own—but not the reality of it, just as she is given the appearance of power without the power itself in her relationship with Lockjaw. After her placement, Lockjaw comes to visit Perfidia’s house. He has shed his soldier’s uniform, opting instead for a blazer and slacks. However, the appearance of equality—the illusion that he is just a normal citizen like her—is as much a costume as his uniform on Perfidia. He knocks on her door three times. When she doesn’t answer, Lockjaw drops the flowers and walks to his car to retrieve a handheld battering ram, likely one issued to him in his capacity as an officer, and breaks into her home. The two shots are nearly identical, filmed and framed in the exact same way. The flowers are a more symbolic battering ram, a representation of how Lockjaw has forced his way into her life as he forces his way into her home. The filming tells us that these objects are one and the same, both symbols of Lockjaw’s weaponization of governmental power to get what he wants.

When Lockjaw finally does break down the door, he finds the house empty and a note from Perfidia taped to the window which reads “This pussy don’t pop for you.” The message is reclamation of her body and sexuality from Lockjaw and the US Government. Her participation in BDSM did not provide her an alternative to repressive, mainstream culture; it served as an extension of it. It did not allow her to, as Weiss argues it can, “reimagine on our own terms our lack of power over the war, over state power,”⁵ because the terms were never hers. Lockjaw and Perfidia’s sex life, while certainly outside of what broad society would accept, was never a mutual negotiation of desires, a willing exchange of power. It was always inextricably tied to the repressive force of the government, institutionalized racism and patriarchy. To reject the oppression of the government, Perfidia also needed to reject Lockjaw and the performance he requires of her. It’s no accident that the note is on the back of an official government document, the text of which is visible, but inverted in the shot. In leaving Lockjaw, she also rejects the systems he weaponizes against her. Freedom, however, is not easy for her to achieve. The last we see of Perfidia, she is crossing the border into Mexico.

Perfidia’s perspective is something we have little access to. We see her largely through the eyes of those around her, and when she is engaged in some kind of revolutionary or sexual performance. What she truly thinks, feels, and desires, particularly within her situation with Lockjaw, is not something we explicitly learn. As she flees the country, she also for the most part flees the film itself. We are left to hope that, whatever life she finds there, it is one she gets to set the terms of.

Conclusion

What connects these films, beyond their shared exploration of power and alternative sexuality, is their ambiguity. Even the more positive of the films, those that show how love and family can be found through non-normative erotic expression, do not provide the audience with a clear-cut happy ending. Just as there is no unified thesis, there is also no clear conclusion, no obvious answer as to how power and erotics work together when they exist outside the bounds of what society deems acceptable expressions of sexuality.

What it means for women to find self-determination and freedom in a world designed around oppressing them is complex, and perhaps unanswerable. These films avoid clear cut ideas of right and wrong; the women in these films cannot be defined by a binary morality. Just as we are asked to disregard the ways society teaches us sexuality can or should be expressed, these films upset generalized conventions of morality. Whether these women—Amber, Peggy, Alma, and Perfidia—manage to meaningfully fight patriarchal ideas of sex, desire, and power, or manage to fight them at all, is up for debate. These films don’t attempt to answer any questions about how to understand sexuality’s relationship to power, specifically gendered and racialized power; they simply take the first step, removing the camouflage and allowing us to take a more honest look at the breadth of what sexuality can mean.

Bibliography

• Rubin, Gayle. “Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality.” In Culture, Society and Sexuality: A Reader. Edited by Richard Parker and Peter Aggleton. UCL Press, 1999.
• Weiss, Margot. Techniques of Pleasure: BDSM and the Circuits of Sexuality. Duke University Press, 2012.

Notes