There’s no mistaking Daniel Day-Lewis. The first time we see him in Anemone is from the back. Yet, he immediately permeates his surroundings—a dense, lush forest with a sole wood cabin, smoke brimming from the chimney, and a wood-chopping station just outside the front door—with his presence. It’s his space. His solemnity. His version of mandated isolation, and nobody else’s. As in most movies that Daniel Day-Lewis made before his announced retirement from acting in 2017, his command of the silver screen is fierce. And it’s no different in this film, for which he broke his self-imposed retirement, to support his son, Ronan Day-Lewis, in his directorial debut.
Naturally, Anemone is a film about fathers and sons, albeit in a rather roundabout way. Daniel Day-Lewis, who also helped pen the script with his son, plays Ray Stoker, a man found in solace in the woodlands far outside of Ireland. He is soon joined in those very woods that he so prominently occupies by his brother, Jem (Sean Bean). The initial stage-setting 30 minutes of this film are among the most confounding.
Minimal dialogue, brooding facial expressions, and cinematic sequences of the two men in a cabin together, refusing to speak, undoubtedly set the ambience for the remainder of the movie, but do so in a way that feels like it truly takes the scenic route to arrive at a destination that results in an explosive initial monologue from the master, Daniel Day-Lewis, himself.
It’s clear that Ronan has a very sophisticated eye behind the camera, instilling some neat technical tricks further into the story. As Jem and Ray finally break open the seal on their perhaps years-long (it’s never quite specified, leaving for one of the more frustrating parts of the movie in the lack of backstory) string of silence, it’s clear that the family dynamic at play is the true fuel to the narrative fire. Jem has been raising a son, Brian (Samuel Bottomley), with Nessa (Samantha Morton), and he has trekked to Ray for advice on how to handle a volatile situation—Brian has viciously beaten someone in his ranks and earned himself a temporary discharge from the service.
Behind the techno-rock score that shares equal parts of service and silliness, dropping in and out after compelling lines of dialogue to deliver us to a new sequence, there is a thematic journey that is greatly gripping—as Succession’s Kendall Roy put it, “maybe the poison drips through.” It’s said that the sins of the father are the sins of the son, and Anemone takes that tried and true fable to heart, imploring an exploration of how that generational drizzle can be wiped clean.
Daniel Day-Lewis manifests not only that imperative idea, but does so in a way that actually outshines his counterpart in Sean Bean (who isn’t bad by any stretch, but when put against one of the greatest to ever do it one on one, well…) and the ability the film has to pull off that very conception. The emotional weight of the film rests upon the especially strong shoulders of Day-Lewis and his ability to hold a conversation, and an argument or two, with the utmost vitality. Interestingly enough, he seemingly bookends the film with two lengthy stories he tells, showcasing his acting prowess even further.
Even with an unstoppable force as sharp as his, the film conclusively wants to be more than it actually ends up being, opting for a final 15 or so minutes that come across as pretentious and pompous. Anemone elects to leave things unsaid that perhaps should be clearly stated, undercutting some truly impactful emotional analysis of fatherhood, generational trauma, and personal healing.
Don’t get me wrong— Anemone looks good and has all of the makings of a “I can’t wait to see what this director makes next”-type project. This one, unfortunately, just doesn’t coalesce into a persuasive project that manages to become more than just the sum of its parts.
Review Courtesy of Ethan Simmie
Feature Image Credit to Plan B Entertainment via Hollywood Reporter