I nside a modest room on the northern side of the Chelsea Hotel, as the midday sun pours in through a window, with the noises of the bustling street several floors below bleeding through the walls, Daniel Day-Lewis is in deep concentration. Or rather, the 67-year-old actor appears to be in deep concentration, if the look on his face is any indication. You’ve seen this particular expression before, in any number of movies that the Oscar winner has graced over the years, though it’s been a while. Eyes: narrowed. Jaw: set. Focus: laser-like.

A photographer is packing up his stuff, a publicist is multitasking on her phone, a journalist is trying to make himself invisible. (This is a star of stage and screen who once referred to the experience of interviews as “God’s great joke on me.”) Bu

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