There's something inherently poetic about Daniel Day-Lewis emerging from retirement to star in a film directed by his son, Ronan. "Anemone" isn't just another 2025 Movie release—it's a raw, visually arresting Drama that wrestles with intergenerational trauma, guilt, and the violence we inherit from those who raised us. While it occasionally stumbles in its final act, this Psychological Drama announces Ronan Day-Lewis as a filmmaker with a bold vision and gives his father one of the most compelling roles of his storied career.
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Director: Ronan Day-LewisWriters: Daniel Day-Lewis, Ronan Day-Lewis
Cast: Daniel Day-Lewis, Sean Bean, Samantha Morton, Samuel Bottomley, Safia Oakley-Green
Genre: Drama, Psychological Drama
Runtime: 2 hours 5 minutes
Release Date: October 3, 2025
Set against the rugged landscapes of Northern England, "Anemone" follows Ray Stoker (Daniel Day-Lewis), a former British soldier who has spent two decades living as a hermit deep in the woods. His self-imposed exile is disrupted when his estranged brother Jem (Sean Bean) arrives with an urgent plea: Ray's biological son Brian (Samuel Bottomley) is spiraling into violence, and only Ray can help steer him away from a similarly dark path. The film takes its title from the delicate flower whose petals close when a storm approaches—a fitting metaphor for a man who has shut himself off from the world to survive it.
Story and Screenplay
The narrative unfolds with deliberate patience, resisting the urge to spell everything out immediately. Ronan Day-Lewis and his father craft a screenplay that values silences as much as dialogue, letting the fractured relationship between Ray and Jem breathe before gradually peeling back layers of their shared trauma. The pacing might test some viewers—the first act is essentially one long hesitation, with Jem circling around Ray's walls, unsure how to penetrate decades of resentment and guilt.
What elevates the script are its moments of brutal honesty. Ray's monologues—particularly a darkly comic yet disturbing story involving a priest, Guinness, curry, and laxatives—instantly cement themselves in the pantheon of memorable Day-Lewis moments. The dialogue crackles with bitter wit and painful vulnerability, whether Ray is mocking his brother's faith or admitting to the violence learned from their "miserable bastard" of a father.
The film's connection to the Troubles in Northern Ireland adds political weight without turning into a history lesson. Ray's psychological scars from his time as a soldier become clear in devastating increments, his exile explained not through exposition dumps but through carefully metered revelations. Where the screenplay falters is in its final stretch—the surreal imagery (ghostly figures, a unicorn-like creature, a hailstorm of near-biblical proportions) feels somewhat disconnected from the grounded brutality that precedes it. The ending ties things up more neatly than the film's thorny nature warrants, softening what had been a consistently uncompromising vision.
Acting and Characters
Daniel Day-Lewis doesn't just return to acting—he commands the screen with the same ferocious intensity that defined his career. Playing Ray as a man simultaneously hardened by trauma and collapsing under its weight, Day-Lewis delivers a performance that's volcanic when it needs to be and achingly vulnerable in quieter moments. His face—gaunt, weathered, framed by silver hair and a walrus mustache—becomes a landscape of sorrow, rage, and shame. The physical transformation is complete: this is a man who has spent 20 years punishing himself, and every gesture carries that burden.
Sean Bean, often underutilized in Hollywood, finally gets material worthy of his talents. As Jem, he plays the quieter, more grounded brother with subtle grace, his religious faith serving as both armor and vulnerability. Bean's reactive performance creates a perfect counterbalance to Day-Lewis' explosive energy, and their scenes together crackle with unspoken history.
Samantha Morton brings devastating emotional weight to her relatively brief screen time as Nessa, the woman caught between two brothers and desperate to save her son. Her worn, worried presence threads the film with maternal anguish. Samuel Bottomley does solid work as Brian, the young man inheriting wounds he can't name, though the script never fully fleshes out his character beyond being a symbol of generational trauma.
Direction and Technical Aspects
Ronan Day-Lewis announces himself as a filmmaker with a strikingly assured visual sensibility. Working with cinematographer Ben Fordesman (who shot "Saint Maud" and "Love Lies Bleeding"), he creates images that feel painterly and oppressive in equal measure. The North England landscapes are rendered as both beautiful and imprisoning—vast forests closing in like cages, cold interiors dripping with condensation, light and shadow playing across faces like Caravaggio paintings come to life.
The director's background as a painter shows in every frame. Long takes and slow zooms hover around the characters, sometimes pulling back to render them as tiny figures swallowed by nature's indifference. There's a confident command of tone here—the film balances gritty realism with moments of expressionistic intensity, sometimes uneasily but always ambitiously. The use of slow motion during scenes of dancing and fighting reveals their uncomfortable kinship.
Where Ronan occasionally overreaches is in the surreal passages. The dreamlike imagery—translucent figures, fantastical creatures—feels more metaphorically confusing than enlightening, particularly in a film that has been so grounded in visceral, lived-in reality. Still, the ambition is admirable, and few debut features dare to shoulder this much tonal weight.
Music and Atmosphere
Bobby Krlic (The Haxan Cloak), known for his work on Ari Aster's films, provides a score that sounds like doom-laden shoegaze—all moody synths, distorted guitars, and dread-soaked ambience. It's the sonic equivalent of standing on a cold tile floor at 3 AM, contemplating every mistake you've ever made. The music doesn't just underscore the drama; it saturates it, making every frame feel heavy with accumulated pain.
The sound design amplifies this oppressive atmosphere. Wind howling through trees, the crackle of wood-burning stoves, the crunch of footsteps on forest floors—these elements create an immersive sensory experience that makes Ray's isolation palpable. Nature itself becomes a character, indifferent to human suffering yet constantly present, witness to all the ways men destroy themselves and each other.
Strengths and Weaknesses
What Works:
- Daniel Day-Lewis' ferocious, vulnerable performance—a reminder of why his absence left such a void in cinema
- Ronan Day-Lewis' assured directorial debut, with stunning visual composition and confident tonal control
- Sean Bean finally getting material that showcases his range
- The screenplay's willingness to sit in uncomfortable silences and let trauma speak through absence
- Cinematography that turns Northern England into a gothic dreamscape
- Bobby Krlic's haunting, oppressive score
What Doesn't:
- The final act's surreal digressions feel somewhat disconnected from the film's grounded brutality
- Brian's character remains underwritten, more symbol than fully realized person
- The ending ties things up too tidily for a film that had been so uncompromising
- Some viewers will find the pacing glacial, especially in the first act
- The level of bleakness may be overwhelming for those not prepared for this level of emotional intensity
Final Verdict
"Anemone" is a demanding, often punishing film that refuses to offer easy catharsis or simple answers. It's a movie about men broken by violence—institutional, familial, self-inflicted—and the near-impossibility of breaking that cycle. Ronan Day-Lewis has crafted something genuinely haunting, a film that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll, even as its more surreal flourishes don't always land.
This is unmistakably a father-son collaboration in the deepest sense—not just in the credits, but in the DNA of the work itself. The way Ronan's camera observes Daniel's Ray, patient and unflinching, feels like an act of witnessing that goes beyond typical director-actor relationships. It's intimate without being precious, challenging without being alienating.
Daniel Day-Lewis' return validates every ounce of anticipation. He hasn't lost a step—if anything, age and absence have only deepened his ability to convey profound emotional complexity. Whether this comeback continues or remains a one-off collaboration with his son, "Anemone" stands as a powerful reminder of what cinema can achieve when a master actor and an exciting new filmmaker push each other toward their best work.
For fans of contemplative, character-driven dramas that aren't afraid to wade into darkness, "Anemone" is essential viewing. Just be prepared: this flower has thorns, and they cut deep.
Recommended for: Fans of slow-burn character studies, admirers of Daniel Day-Lewis' work, those interested in films about generational trauma and masculinity, viewers who appreciate visually striking cinema over plot-heavy narratives.
Not recommended for: Those seeking fast-paced entertainment, viewers averse to bleakness and heavy themes, audiences who prefer clear resolutions and straightforward narratives.
"Anemone" is now playing in theaters. For more in-depth Film Reviews, explore our complete collection of 2025 Film coverage and genre-specific analyses of Drama and Psychological Drama cinema.
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