Sharmila Tagore on missing out on Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani with Dharmendra, “I fell ill and couldn’t do the film”

“We shared the same birthday. He was my co-star in seven films. I knew he was not keeping good health. But the news of his passing is still very saddening,” said Sharmila Tagore, who worked in films as far-ranging as Satyakam and Chupke Chupke with Dharmendra. She reflected on their screen togetherness. “We first worked together in Devar and then during the same year in Anupama. Two very serious subjects, followed by an out-and-out commercial film Mere Humdum Mere Dost. Shooting with him was a breeze. He was as effortless on screen as he was off it. He was never ‘The Star’ on the sets, always his natural self. There was nothing put-on about him.” Sharmila Tagore recalled her first meeting with Dharmendra. “Before we worked together, we met when I was shooting with Yash Chopra’s Waqt. I don’t know in what context he was there. But I remember he was dressed… how shall I put it… not like a star at all. When s...

Anemone review – Daniel Day-Lewis returns for a bleak and painfully serious misfire

New York film festival: the actor un-retires, with his son onboard to direct, for a portentous and plodding film about war-torn men

It has been eight long years since Daniel Day-Lewis last graced the screen, after the filming of 2017’s Phantom Thread left him “overwhelmed by a sense of sadness”. Retirement, it turns out, was more “retirement”, an extended bit of rest and recuperation for another gauntlet. Anemone, the three-time Oscar winner’s quote-unquote comeback film and the feature directorial debut of his son Ronan Day-Lewis, is an even less sunny experience. (At least for the viewer; Day-Lewis has described filming with his son as “beginning to end, just pure joy to spend that time together with him”.) In fact, it’s gray-skies-only for the film’s plodding two hours, the better to hammer home the point of roiling disquiet within, to quote the logline, “the complex and profound ties that exist between brothers, fathers, and sons”.

Father and son, who co-wrote the script set in the late 1980s, seem aligned on the somber task of peeling back what has not been said for two generations of stoic, war-torn men. Anemone – a title that, like the film, is vaguely symbolic and overly portentous – settles in like fog on the northern English coast: at once heavy and weightless, overcast with dour import. It starts with a prayer (from Sean Bean, face creased with unrelenting seriousness) and proceeds into the mist of unexpressed trauma, over-communicated in close-up shots of bloody knuckles, blank walls and truncated torsos.

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