NYFF Review: Anemone Signifies a Promising Debut and an Engaging Comeback for Daniel Day-Lewis

      The first appearance of Daniel Day-Lewis in Anemone finds him shrouded in darkness, seated within a small cabin nestled in the North England wilderness. This nearly indistinguishable introduction seems almost intentional, offering a softly lit silhouette as a surprising and welcome comeback to the cinema. In 2017, just before the media tour for Paul Thomas Anderson’s Phantom Thread, the three-time Oscar recipient announced his retirement from acting, signaling the conclusion of a remarkable and unique career. He had taken breaks in the past—such as in 1997 when he left Hollywood to work as a shoemaker in Italy for several years. However, this second departure felt distinct. He stated he was leaving “for good,” a bold statement that left little room for misinterpretation. Thus, when the light finally illuminates his 68-year-old visage, revealing a thick goatee, short white hair, and that recognizable gaunt face, it is both an exciting unveiling and a reminder that even the most esteemed artists can set aside their pride and return to creation.

      Who has persuaded him to return? Ronan Day-Lewis, his 27-year-old son and an established painter making his directorial debut with a script they co-wrote after years of brainstorming ideas. At first glance, it may seem like a father supporting his son’s passion project in need of funding; however, the younger Day-Lewis has crafted something haunting and beautiful—a slow-burning duet that explores themes of grief, regret, and the kind of absence that irreparably fractures a family. More importantly, it provides the elder Day-Lewis an opportunity to showcase his long-dormant skills, particularly through a couple of monologues—one humorous and scatological, the other reflective, darker, and more vulnerable—that hit hard in unexpected ways. It's been quite some time since the actor has expressed laughter, anger, or sorrow in front of the camera, yet one would hardly notice.

      Titled after the flowers that curl inward as a storm approaches, Anemone narrates the story of Ray (Day-Lewis), a former British soldier who has lived as a self-imposed hermit in the woods for the past 16 years, burdened by shame. His isolation is disrupted when his brother, Jem (Sean Bean), arrives unannounced at his remote abode, seeking to stay with him. This isn’t merely a brief escape from society. Ray’s teenage son, Brian (Samuel Bottomley), is beginning to spiral down a similar path of self-destruction—a descent that Jem and Brian’s mother, Nessa (Samantha Morton), believe only Ray can address. To save his son, Ray must emerge from his seclusion and confront a past that has kept him distanced from the world.

      This process will take time. Ronan Day-Lewis deliberately limits exposition, which can be both purposeful and occasionally frustrating. For the first third of the film, Ray and Jem barely engage in conversation, an acclimatization period filled with alcohol and dancing that Jem cautiously navigates to avoid spooking his brother into defensive outbursts. Instead, information is revealed gradually—through small bites of stew, while berry-picking in the windswept forest, and during hunting excursions in open clearings. For Ray to assist a son he has never known, he must confront the horrors he alone witnessed during the Troubles in Northern Ireland. Meanwhile, Jem can do little but try to understand and decipher the demons still plaguing his brother. “What happened?” he asks, but Ray either refuses to respond or simply cannot.

      Ronan Day-Lewis juxtaposes these moments of disconnection with jarring guitar chords and dark, tranquil imagery—trees and grass swaying in moonlight, sometimes pulling back to wide shots of the cabin that transform them into dreamlike scenes. There’s a subtle mastery of the camera, reflecting the story’s contemplative essence through long takes and gradual zooms, creeping around the backs of the protagonists' heads as if attempting to unveil their hidden truths. At the New York Film Festival press conference, he explained how weather served as a foundational element of the story, a presence felt in his artistic instincts and youthful influences. In some respects, Anemone’s more abstract, aesthetic sequences—a ghostly figure at the foot of a bed, a shimmering, unicorn-like creature across a lake, a large fish drifting down the river—seem inspired by Jane Schoenbrun’s unsettling body of work. While not all elements neatly fit together, their collection helps articulate the haunting aftermath of Ray’s decision to abandon his family and builds to a climactic weather event that merges metaphor with reality.

      In a festival season that has produced numerous films about absent fathers, Anemone may be the bleakest and least accessible, yet it could be the most rewarding for those who remain patient. Much like Jem's persistent nudging