Zachary Cruz-Tan
Who knows if Daniel Day-Lewis will actually retire? He’s been teasing the idea for years, but he can’t seem to resist a promising screenplay, which is precisely what has drawn him out of a five-year hiatus since playing Abraham Lincoln in 2012. He’s a man infamous for taking substantial breaks between projects – having starred in only three films in the last eleven years – and now that his apparent swan song, Phantom Thread, is playing across the country, it might be a good time to pore over his sparse, but rather fine career.
It’s a career built upon astounding records, many of which may not be broken in our lifetime. He’s won Critic’s Choice awards, BAFTAs, Golden Globes, Screen Actor’s Guilds, Satellites, and perhaps his most impressive triumph: three Academy Awards for Best Actor (winning for Christy Brown in My Left Foot [1989], Daniel Plainview in There Will Be Blood [2007] and the titular president in Lincoln [2012]). He’s also the only actor in history to have won the Big Five twice (Academy Award, SAG, Golden Globe, BAFTA and Critic’s Choice for There Will Be Blood and Lincoln).
But awards are merely the gold stars on top of good grades. To earn the grades in the first place requires a devotion to the craft, and a kind of perfection of skill; qualities Day-Lewis exercises with abandon. He’s what you might call a smart man’s method actor, sinking entirely into roles without the drug addictions or drastic body changes. Instead he absorbs his characters from the inside out, assuming new identities like a master criminal.
His early work in The Unbearable Lightness of Being (1988) and the unusual comedy Stars and Bars (1988) is masterful – particularly as the fractured Tomas in the former – but it doesn’t really prepare you for what’s to come. In fact, it’s not till his devilish turn as Bill Cutting in Martin Scorsese’s Gangs of New York (2002) that his face, his speech and his very person becomes unrecognisable. This was the first time Daniel Day-Lewis truly got lost inside the body of another.
His greatest performance, and my favourite, is as oil tycoon Daniel Plainview. Hunched, raspy and totally self-serving, Plainview is the kind of ego-centric movie villain that grips you in a way that almost makes you sympathise, even though there’s nothing to sympathise with, like Michael Corleone in The Godfather II (1974). From his ruthless upbringing of his adopted son, to the mental and spiritual abuse dished out to poor Eli Sunday, Plainview is a character of unbelievable evil, and Day-Lewis is particularly good at jutting out his chin, raising a derisive eyebrow and lashing about with his superior accent. It is, rather ironically, a delight to watch him.
And then the real Day-Lewis gets up to speak at the Oscars, with his pristine face, platinum hair and dignified English-ness, and no one anywhere can believe it’s the same man. He has worked with some of the finest directors of our time, delivered some of the most memorable lines and ended it all without so much as a wave to the crowd. For him, the job’s done, like a long day at the office – there’s nothing to talk about.
Apparently, the filming of Phantom Thread left within him a great sense of sadness, which became a compulsion to stop acting. He’s made such decisions before but has always been drawn back out into the light by screenplays that offer him one last hurrah. Maybe it was another chance to work with Paul Thomas Anderson, or that Phantom Thread, in which he plays a fashion designer in 1950s London, finally returns him to his English roots, but he seems assured now that it’s over. The man could do it all – comedy, violence, drama, even musicals. Let’s hope he carries retirement with as much grace.
Image (c) Universal Pictures 2018