Bill Nighy gives a striking performance as colorless taciturn bureaucrat whose his rigid, repetitive life is transformed by a terminal diagnosis, in LIVING. Director Oliver Hermanus, working with a script by novelist Kazuo Ishiguro (“Remains of the Day”), re-tells Akira Kurosawa’s IKIRU by transporting it to 1950s London, with its armies of buttoned-down businessmen in identical conservative dark suits, bowler hats and umbrellas, moving through the same drab routines day-to-day. The change works amazing well, and is aided by a perfect script, evocative period-style photography, nice period flourishes and, of course, a remarkable performance by Bill Nighy, which certainly ranks among his best in his long career. LIVING is a moving drama about living a meaningful life, a film well worth seeing.
LIVING opens with credits that completely recreate the look of 1950s dramas, from the style of the text to the spot-on bustling streets to the color tone of the film. The effect is so startlingly convincing that you might think you are watching a film by Hitchcock from 1952, the year that Kurosawa’s black-and-white masterpiece was released. From that auspicious start, the film smoothly moves to a more natural palate as it transitions to train journey, as Bill Nighy’s character starts his own journey.
Nighy’s character does not appear right away. As the top man at a small division of London’s government center, the civil servants under his command talk about Mr. Williams (Nighy) as a revered, aloof figure as they are joined by a young new hire, Peter Wakeling (Alex Sharp), waiting on platform for the morning train. Young Wakeling is eager, smiling and friendly – way too expressive for their tastes – and his unsmiling new co-workers let him know right away that is not proper behavior for their dignified office. When Mr. Williams does arrive on the platform, he merely nods to his underlings, and goes to his separate compartment, like a military officer keeping his distance from the ordinary soldiers.
Of course, there is nothing so grand about the office they share in the London’s civil government office. Mr. Williams bows deferentially to a Sir James (Michael Cochrane), before proceeding to his own department’s tiny office, where he sits at the head of shared table where they process their paperwork. Rigid routine rules everything in their day.
The coworkers offering hints to their new colleague helps introduce us to this gray bureaucratic world. There is only one woman in this male-dominated office, young Miss Harris (Aimee Lou Wood) who dresses with a little splash of warm color and occasionally bends the rules by smiling or even a little joke. But almost immediately she tells us that she is going to be leaving for another job soon, as a manager in a restaurant.
Their paper shuffling routine is interrupted by the arrival of a polite but weary small group of women with a petition, to transform a problem vacant lot into a playground. It is clear they have been here before. In fact, they have been to every department before, shuffled from division to division as each office insists the project doesn’t fall under their purview and sends them to the next one. Eventually, the paperwork goes in some pile where it sits, neglected, until it is discarded and the process starts again.
There is an absurdist clockwork aspect to this Sisyphean routine. But on this day, Mr. Williams breaks routine, announcing he must leave early for an appointment. He volunteers nothing, and his underlings do not to ask, but the appointment is with his doctor.
At the doctor’s office, Mr. Williams gets grim news: a terminal diagnosis and six to nine months to live. The news leaves him stunned, and suddenly considering what he should do with his remaining time. He arrives home late, and we are surprised to learn that he once had more of a life. A widower with a grown son and a daughter-in-law who live with him, we expect them to offer some support when he tentatively tries to tell them about his diagnosis. But he has not even said more than a couple of words before they abruptly brush him off, heading off to bed, while saying they have to get up early. Instead of returning to the office the next morning, Mr. Williams embarks on a wandering journey as he considers his mortality and reflects on what he might do with his remaining life.
Bill Nighy tamps down his usual charm playing this very stern character, at least to start, but bit by bit, we get glimpses of that charm as well as the character’s long-hidden inner life. This brilliant. carefully-crafted performance is the major reason to see this film, but the affecting script, lovely period details, and beautiful photography provide their own delights, as well as supporting Nighy’s work. Nighy and the script move the character from hard flintiness to a lost despair to a movingly human resolution.
Other cast members contribute to that story arc, with Tom Burke offering a nice turn as a surprisingly kind bohemian writer who takes Nighy’s Williams on a brief tour into nightlife hedonism, and Aimee Lou Wood as Miss Harris and Alex Sharp as young Mr. Wakeling who offer glimpses of youthful light and hope, lights that help Williams decide on his path.
The period details are not only spot-on and contribute to the film’s surprising visual beauty. Director of Photography Jamie D. Ramsey wraps everything in warm, striking visual, which frames Williams’s journey well as he comes to grip with his life. The final scene is particularly touching, due to the fine imagery and excellent mis-en-scene from Ramsey and director Oliver Hermanus.
While Bill Nighy is the standout in this film, it is such a well crafted and touching drama that is more than worthwhile and a fitting homage to Kurosawa’s original.
LIVING opens Friday, Jan 20, at Landmark’s Plaza Frontenac and other theaters.
RATING: 3.5 out of 4 stars
