When Daniel Day-Lewis signs on for a new film, the bar is immediately raised. His name comes with a gargantuan set of expectations, his mystique as an all-or-nothing method actor whetting the appetite of audiences and producers alike. 

Studios would quite literally have killed to bring DDL, our avant-garde box office titan with the bums-on-seats power of an artsy Tom Cruise, out of retirement. Yet, no hiatus-ending offers were accepted until his son, Ronan, an artist and veteran of Paul Thomas Anderson film sets via his father, came to him with an idea. 

The result is Anemone, a pencil-thin debut feature that, under scrutiny, is little more than a nepo baby origin story. Marketing would have you believe these two artists, Roman and Daniel, just so happen to be father and son, coming together via a shared passion for the material and nothing else. In truth, Anemone strikes more as a fatherly favour than anything compelling enough to truly wrench DDL from his solitude. 

Decades after the Troubles in Northern Ireland, Brian Stoker (Samuel Bottomley) flees the Army after almost killing a boy in a fight. His ex-soldier stepfather, Jem (Sean Bean), decides to track down Brian’s estranged father in hopes of resolution, finally repairing much of his reasons for violence. 

In a makeshift cabin deep in the woods of Northern England, Ray Stoker (Daniel Day-Lewis, sporting a confident walrus-style mustache) lives off the land in self-imposed exile, only returning to civilization for an occasional pint at the local pub. 

He’s a silent yet powerful figure of traditional masculinity, and it’s special to witness DDL do his thing after so much time, disappearing behind Ray (or into Ray?) as he runs, swims, and hunts for dinner Homo erectus-style. His character doesn’t extend much past novelty, however, with both Day-Lewis’ placing too much responsibility on Daniel’s performance to get the job done. 

Sean Bean does little to shift the axis of quality, too, despite his ability for silent brilliance pipping that of DDL’s here. In play, Jem is little more than a sounding board for Ray’s very long, very self-serious monologues about religion and war, most of which are weightless. 

Samatha Morton is similarly deployed as Brian’s mother, relegated to exposition dumps and scenes of emotional support whilst the boys get Anemone’s best attempt at hefty drama — still, Ray’s tears beg the audience for sympathy at the film’s most awkward moment, the introduction of a translucent spirit animal. 

What draws the most attention are not CGI dream fish or Miyazaki knockoffs, but the younger Day-Lewis’ direction. His confidence is evident, but he lacks the ferocity of other debut directors: Kevin Smith’s Clerks comes to mind as a showcase of a distinct voice and style that Ronan Day-Lewis is yet to find. 

The Day-Lewis boys’ efforts as writers only bare a semblance of fruit in the film’s final moments, as Ray is forced to pick between his familiar solitude or, in the words of Mark Renton, choose life. It’s a vital shot of adrenaline, though arrives a little too late to mean much. 

And the buzz of seeing DDL back in action is blunted, if not utterly annihilated, but the realities of his return: a sluggish, underdone film that’s as much a springboard for his son as a piece of forgetful fluff. 

In cinemas nationwide from Fri 7 Nov 2025