Daniel Day-Lewis Can’t Method Act His Way out of Lockdown

John J King
3 min readMar 22, 2021

Deeply immersive method actor not as prepared for role of Lockdown Husband, wife reports.

Singular artist, three-time Oscar Winner, and noted “method actor” Daniel Day-Lewis — whose efforts to fully disappear into each of his roles have become legend — turns out to be just as unprepared to survive the COVID-19 lockdown as the rest of us. The man famous for staying in character on months-long shoots, and perfecting skills his character would know — even personally building John Proctor’s cabin for The Crucible — can’t perform the simple task of being at home with his family.

“He learned to make canoes on Mohicans,” says his wife, Rebecca Miller (daughter of Arthur), referring to his star-making turn as Hawkeye in 1992. “So what? We live in the mountains.” The family home, an hour outside of Dublin, is ten miles from the nearest body of water. “He won’t even chop firewood; just carves our logs into small, flammable boats.”

But surely his meat carving skills have kept the kitchen full? Day-Lewis practiced butchery for his Oscar-nominated role as William Cutting in Gangs of New York. The ominous THWACK of a cleaver hitting the wall inches above Miller’s head interrupts our conversation. She leaned in, whispering: “It was nine weeks of nothing but pork. Oh, pork is fine, I’m glad he learned to cut meat. But he can’t cook a damn thing.”

It appears even the most devoted actor can’t learn every skill. Day-Lewis’ sourdough starter died in May. He doesn’t have a smartphone, and insists on navigating long family walks by the stars and his sense of smell — unsuccessfully, Miller assures me. Gathering with friends — even virtually — has been nearly impossible. “My sister organized a Zoom murder mystery. We kept pushing it back so he could prepare for his role as ‘Don A. Tello,’ the lascivious painter.”

Day-Lewis’ sons have borne much of the brunt. After only two weeks of at-home schooling on Zoom, the actor pulled them from classes in order to help him search the property for oil. An endeavor thus far as unsuccessful as his attempt to break into musicals in Rob Marshall’s Nine.

The family, isolated in the mountains, has been unable to shop for new clothes. Day-Lewis offered to outfit them using skills he’d learned on Phantom Thread. The whole clan, boys included, wear exquisite, perfectly crafted gowns that — while lovely — seem unseasonable for January in the mountains. Miller avers: “He used our entire stimulus on silk organza.”

Though famed for staying in character, Day-Lewis’ wife reports that he now can’t stay in an accent; this writer found him wandering the mountain estate, variously humming in Italian or muttering to himself in Czech. “What am I to do?” she asked, as the world’s greatest actor shuffled away, Lincoln-like. “He spent three days in a cold stone cell, with no food or water, and paid the crew to torture him for In The Name of the Father. Lockdown is nothing to him.”

When Day-Lewis muttered an unprintable comment, Miller retorted: “More like The Unbearable Lightness of Beingmarried to you, Daniel!” He flinched at the sound of his own name, and the title of an un-nominated performance. “Yes: Daniel. Because it is your name; because you cannot have another in your life!”

With that, the most awarded actor of our time sulked off to his man cave. “There are titles he doesn’t like to hear. God help me if one of the boys ever asks about Hamlet,” she whispered, mentioning the actor’s final theatrical performance, from which he fled after seeing his father’s ghost onstage. Listening closely to the strange sounds coming from the genius’ bunker one wonders: will he — like Lincoln — navigate the minefield of negotiating peace with the broken union of his family, or — like Daniel Plainview — end up drunk and alone in the basement?

Miller maintains her optimism: “Of course, I’d prefer to come home to Newland Archer,” she said, citing the smoldering Victorian lover of The Age of Innocence. “But we fell in love on the set of The Crucible, when he had no access to running water. If I can’t rein in his genius, at least I’ve gotten it to brush its teeth.”

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John J King

John J King is part Texan & part T-Rex, and lives in NYC where he makes plays, jokes, songs and films. His mission: To Create and Spread Delight.