In the profusion of films that confront life in its dimming moments, few are more acute than Akira Kurosawa’s Ikiru (1952). Equally true is that few of our old master filmmakers have been remixed more than Kurosawa. Seven Samurai (1954), Hidden Fortress (1958), and Yojimbo (1961) alone are so intrinsic to 20th-century cinema that their influences are seismic even beyond their straight remakes. Far more have failed to capture even a whiff of Kurosawa’s brilliance in their retoolings than have succeeded in delivering worthy extensions of his legacy. Living (2022), the Kazuo Ishiguro-penned and Oliver Hermanus-helmed remake of Ikiru, gets closer to the latter than any project has in quite some time. Living achieves a stirring and stately contemplation on mortality with an astonishing central performance from Bill Nighy.
Set in 1950s London, Living centers on Mr. Williams (Bill Nighy). Williams is a lifetime civil servant and longtime widower. A pinstripe suit and bowler hat wearing cog in the creaking machine of London’s city offices. Both feared and revered by his colleagues, Williams’s daily life revolves around maintaining the relative impossibility of bureaucracy. Yet, gloom intrudes with its murky fingers to deliver Williams a shocking revelation; he has cancer and will be dead within six to nine months. The news sends him into an existential breakdown. He drifts, looking for ways to feel more alive, be it drinking with strangers, or seeking out a new hat. It is only when he bumps into his younger and more vibrant colleague Margaret Harris (Aimee Lou Wood) that he sees his diagnosis as an opportunity. Emboldened, he sets out to reinvent his last act by way of a playground.
In their commendation for his 2017 Nobel Prize in Literature, the committee cited how Ishiguro’s novels “uncovered the abyss beneath our illusory sense of connection with the world.” He is a master of examining the distended souls that people scramble to cover up. That makes him a dream match for adapting Ikiru. The script is a faithful reimagining, preserving Ikiru’s poignant structure and foundation. But Ishiguro transmutes the tale from 1950s Japan to the same era in England. Such a shift makes Living, in Ishiguro’s own words, “a study of a certain type of Englishness.” This is post-war England. Williams is a vision of the stiff-upper-lip Englishman who worships only at the altar of respectability. His personal journey, motivated by the crisis of spirit connected to his impending death, parallels England’s need to live collectively for more than simple sustenance. Ishiguro captures it all exquisitely.
Hermanus’s lyrical direction, aided by Jamie Ramsay’s sumptuous cinematography, only deepens what Ishiguro accomplishes on the page. When Williams and colleagues are in the office, Hermanus sculpts a jagged barrage of administrative cages. Towers of folders and memos and windows in shelving units serve as restrictive frames within frames. Hovering bird’s eye shots of indistinguishable civil servants trudging from train to office heighten the surreal monotony of Williams’s world. The richness of his sojourns into feeling, be they sorrow or joy, enrapture us by contrast. Red lights and dancing shadows abound during a wild night at the seaside with debaucherous writer Sutherland (Thom Burke). Or, the lush greenery and blue sky flanking his dark grey suit while he sits on a bench and considers his future. All of it is shot with a fluid camera that rhythmically adjusts in energy as Williams rediscovers his vitality.
This leads us to Living’s most miraculous gift: Nighy as Williams. Nighy has made a career of locating humanity in all manner of characters. No matter the context, be he underneath tentacled CGI as Davy Jones or in bespoke sweaters as a time-traveling father in About Time (2013), Nighy has an extraordinary gift for pathos. The finest flicker of an eyebrow or upturned lip lands with seismic impact in his command. Living affords him a project to take the to-rare center stage and a character to inhabit that showcases his considerable gifts. One scene, in particular, remains breathlessly entangled in my thoughts. Sitting in a bar across from Lou Wood, Nighy delivers a monologue. It culminates with Williams’s epiphany on how he must spend his final days. The moment could be easily overplayed. In Nighy’s hands, it is electric. An eruption of hope as a man remembers to live.
Living, by its very nature, exists in Ikiru’s mammoth shadow. So is the plight of remakes. The miracle here is that all involved seem to understand the precious need to sustain reverence of the source without consigning themselves to tediously retread it. In doing so, Living emerges as an arresting experience assured of its proudly beating heart.
Living will open in select theaters in NY and LA on December 23, 2022 courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics. The film will expand to further markets in subsequent weeks.
A Stirring And Stately Character Study
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GVN Rating 8.5
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Devin McGrath-Conwell holds a B.A. in Film / English from Middlebury College and is currently pursuing an MFA in Screenwriting from Emerson College. His obsessions include all things horror, David Lynch, the darkest of satires, and Billy Joel. Devin’s writing has also appeared in publications such as Filmhounds Magazine, Film Cred, Horror Homeroom, and Cinema Scholars.