why are there no good actors anymore

Anemone, a haunting psychological drama that marks Daniel Day-Lewis’ long-awaited return after nearly a decade of silence. Directed by his son Ronan Day-Lewis, the film dives into generational trauma, father-son relationships, and the decay of faith. It’s the kind of bold, daring cinema that feels like a love letter to the craft itself—an antidote to today’s algorithmic content factory.

In an age ruled by Marvel franchises, streaming fatigue, TikTok stars, and AI-generated deepfakes, true acting—the kind of raw, transformative performance once defined by legends like Marlon Brando, Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Joaquin Phoenix, Daniel Day-Lewis—feels like a lost art. The modern Hollywood machine, obsessed with superheroes, sequels, and spectacle, has buried depth beneath CGI and billion-dollar box office hits.

Set in Northern England during the echoes of the Irish Troubles, Anemone follows Ray Stroker, a disillusioned former soldier tormented by the ghosts of childhood abuse and wartime guilt. Day-Lewis delivers a performance reminiscent of his roles in My Left Foot, In the Name of the Father, and There Will Be Blood—a masterclass in vulnerability, rage, and authenticity. This is method acting at its most brutal and human, the kind that reminds us why Day-Lewis is considered one of cinema’s last true craftsmen.

Ronan Day-Lewis’ direction echoes the quiet precision of Paul Thomas Anderson, Martin Scorsese, and Robert Eggers, with slow-burning tension and a restrained visual language reminiscent of A24’s recent output—films like The Whale, Past Lives, Eternity, and Bugonia. It’s haunting, poetic, and deeply personal—less blockbuster, more existential autopsy. The camera lingers like a memory you can’t shake off, a style that would make even Denis Villeneuve, Luca Guadagnino, or Greta Gerwig pause in admiration.

Sean Bean delivers one of his finest turns since Game of Thrones, playing Jem, Ray’s brother—a moral anchor in a sea of inherited violence. The supporting performances from Samantha Morton, Safia Oakley-Green, and Tom Bottomley feel raw and grounded, adding to the film’s bruised realism.

The story questions guilt, mercy, and masculinity—echoing The Banshees of Inisherin, The Master, and Manchester by the Sea—films where silence often screams louder than dialogue. There’s a grim beauty to how Anemone handles trauma; its most shocking scene (a grotesque act of revenge involving a priest) feels ripped straight from the unflinching pages of cinema history—a moment that dares to disgust, but never for shock alone.

And yet, Anemone isn’t just a film; it’s a statement—a rebellion against the AI-polished fakeness of our times. It’s about acting as truth, about how we’ve traded depth for dopamine. Compare this to today’s lineups: Chris Pratt, Zendaya, Tom Holland, Timothée Chalamet, Florence Pugh, Robert Pattinson—talented, yes, but trapped in the glossy cages of franchise filmmaking. Even icons like Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt are now exceptions, not the rule.

Hollywood’s obsession with nepotism and marketable faces overshadows the craft. Ironically, Anemone—a “nepo baby project”—may be the film that revives what we thought was lost: commitment, immersion, pain, and art. Whether Daniel Day-Lewis returned out of passion or paternal duty, what matters is that his performance burns with authenticity.

The film’s final act, steeped in ambiguity and grace, mirrors the redemptive quiet of Scorsese’s Silence and the mythic solitude of There Will Be Blood. It ends with hope, fragility, and the bittersweet truth that pain can be inherited—but so can art.

In an age of Marvel fatigue, AI scripts, and viral influencers, Anemone feels like a cinematic exorcism. It’s a reminder that real acting still exists, hidden beneath the rubble of corporate storytelling.

If you love A24 films, Oscar-worthy performances, character-driven storytelling, art-house cinema, and emotional filmmaking, this video essay is for you.
We dive deep into what makes Anemone so powerful, how it reflects our broken entertainment industry, and why true artistry, like Daniel Day-Lewis himself, never really dies—it just waits for a story worth telling.

#anemone #danieldaylewis #paulthomasanderson