Directed by: Ronan Day-Lewis
Distributed by: Focus Features
Written by Anna Harrison
40/100
About twenty minutes into “Anemone,” Sean Bean tells Daniel Day-Lewis that the latter has skid marks on his underwear, and then Daniel Day-Lewis launches into a monologue about all the laxatives he took so he could shit on a priest who molested him as a kid. Whilst going into detail about the different types of defecation that occurred on that day, two of the three other people in the theater got up and left.
After staying for the entirety of the movie, I can’t really say I blame them.
The biggest selling point of “Anemone” was that it coaxed Day-Lewis out of a supposed retirement as he lent his talent (both as an actor and co-writer) to son Ronan Day-Lewis’s directorial debut. While this makes Day-Lewis (of the Daniel kind) a good dad, it does not, unfortunately, make Day-Lewis (of the Ronan kind) a good filmmaker.
“Anemone” follows Jem (Bean) as he makes his way through the wilds of England to find his estranged brother, Ray (Day-Lewis); though Ray has been a recluse ever since he was discharged from the army during the Troubles, Jem needs help with his son, Brian (Samuel Bottomley), who has inherited his father’s penchant for violent outbursts. Ronan Day-Lewis, to his credit, seems keenly aware of the meta nature of this story (man whose reputation precedes him coming out of retirement to help his son) and the titanic status of his father—he doesn’t show Ray’s visage until nearly ten minutes in, preferring to focus on his back, his hands, his legs, anything but his father’s famous face. But the appearance of Jem forces Ray to look at himself, and Day-Lewis to show his father to the camera.
With such actors at his disposal as Bean, Day-Lewis, and Samantha Morton as Jem’s wife, Nessa, Day-Lewis, who co-wrote the script with his father, leans into the silence. There is no need for Jem to explain the years of resentment he has built up against Ray; Bean does it perfectly with a glance of an eye, the curl of his lip. Daniel Day-Lewis, as expected, lifts mountains with the smallest of expressions. The vistas on display of the beautiful English coast and small cabin that Ray occupies are composed beautifully, and Bobby Krlic’s score drifts in and out to fill those silences with emotion, so those gorgeous shots become isolating in their beauty. It’s clear that the younger Day-Lewis has an eye for beauty and knows how to pair score or song selections with visuals, though at a certain point my willingness to indulge another shot of Ray brooding amongst the greenery wore thin.
Then there is the talking. In addition to Ray’s monologue about shit, there are monologues about absent fathers, about the IRA, about praying—any time the characters speak, there is a ninety percent chance they will launch into a monologue. The impulse is understandable with such a cast, but it slows the pacing down with a screeching halt every time the movie pauses to let Jem, Ray, or Nessa talk and talk and talk. Had the monologues been stronger, then perhaps it would be worth taking the time to pause and enjoy them; as it is, only Ray’s lamentation of his experiences fighting the IRA merits the screen time it receives.
“Anemone” very much feels like baby’s first film: Day-Lewis sets his shots up to be beautiful, and seems to become so concerned with aesthetics that he forgets why he added the shot in the first place, and the monologues have the kind of faux depth you might expect from a college student’s screenwriting class (or someone trying desperately to prove that they are worth something outside of their family history). Dream sequences and supernatural weather events are thrown in to convince you that the film has depth. Oh, look, here’s some weird child’s drawing come to life with a very prominent penis—maybe, just maybe, the film is about men perpetuating a cycle of violence and the dangers of machismo? How daring.
Growing pains are to be expected, and it’s clear that Day-Lewis has potential. But, for better or worse, he had more pressure riding on him than your average debut given the prestige in front of the camera and his family name. We can only hope that he dispenses with the scatological monologues next time.
“Anemone” Trailer
You can follow more of Anna’s work on Letterboxd, Twitter, or Instagram, or her website.
