Living   

UK, 2022, 102 minutes, Colour.

Cast:  Bill Nighy, Aimee Lou Wood, Tom Burke, Alex Sharp, Adrian Rawlins.

Directed by Oliver Hermanus.

For this reviewer, Akira Kurosaw’s 1952 drama, Ikuru/Living, is one of the great films.  And it is a great film about terminal illness, discovering the meaning of life, and a critique of humdrum bureaucracy.  And this is true of this British remake, British interpretation of this universal story.  This remake has the advantage of building on the 1952 film but with the help of Booker-prize-winning author, Kazuo Ishiguro (Remains of the Day), it has a strong literary quality as well.

This film looks very much like a film of its period, 1953, the year of the coronation.  It opens with a great deal of contemporary footage of London itself, the familiar streets, the landmarks, the red double-decker buses, people going to work or shopping, the clothes of the time, the cars…  It is strange to think back that this was what life looked like for so many people in England 70 years ago.

The tone is set at the local railway station, the young man, Peter (Alex Sharp) suit, tie, bowler hat, joining all the other men at the station, in the carriage, quiet, proper.  And then a ritual of standing back for their boss, Mr Williams, to enter the building, then to take up their places around the desk, their piles of documentation (they call them pyramids), Mr Williams quietly sitting at the head of the table – and a glimpse of Margaret (Aimee Lou Wood), the young woman who seems rather out of place with these bureaucrats.

However, this is Mr Williams’ story.  Bill Nighy received an Oscar nomination for this performance, an acknowledgement of his long and strong career.  He has a distinctive presence, look, voice, but has used them in quite a variety of roles (even to pop singer in Love, Actually).

Mr Williams quietly absents himself from the office, sits stoically in his doctor’s office to hear the results of tests, only a few months to live.  Mr Williams is under criticism from his daughter-in-law at home, wanting money to invest in a house, his son under the dominance of his wife.  He decides not to tell them about his health.  But what is he to do?  He travels quietly to Brighton, overhears a young rather Bohemian artist talking about freedoms (a cameo by Tom Burke), interrupts him and joined him for a kind of 1953s night on the town or, rather, a night at the pier.  Mr Williams drinks, observes, is sick, but takes the opportunity to acknowledge his Scots ancestry and sing, so sadly, Rowan Tree.

But, he continues to absent himself from the office even though he is dressed and everybody thinks he is going, he encounters Margaret who has taken up a new job at one of the Lyons Corner Cafés.  On a whim, they go for a lavish lunch at Fortnums.  She actually tells him that she had a nickname for everybody in the office and that his was Mr Zombie.  He is quietly bemused.  But her cheerfulness cheers him and they spend the afternoon in London, the galleries.  And there is a later encounter with her, much more dramatic, much more sad, his confiding in her and her quietly tearful response.

When Mr Williams returns to work, he has some zest, a purpose in life to help some ladies who want to build a playground on a bombsite and have been given the run-around, literally, of all the bureaucratic departments.

There is a jolt as the screenplay takes us to Mr Williams’ funeral.  And wondering, at the moment, whether the projectionist has lost a reel of the film.  But the device is to look back at what happened to Mr Williams, his change of heart, his work for the ladies, his standing up for them, defying the authorities, clearing the bombsite, the building of the playground.  And the bureaucrats all agreeing that he had done something wonderful and that they should follow his footsteps, be like Mr Williams. (Spoiler alert, they don’t.)

Mr Williams sang Rowan Tree early in the film – and, at the end, in the snow, on a swing in the playground, he sings it again.

We share in the pathos of Mr Williams growing old in his restricted life – but rejoice in his discovering his humanity.

Living is currently showing at various cinemas including Palace Cinemas, Village Cinemas Rivoli and Lido Cinemas.

By Fr Peter Malone