The Gentleness of LIVING

There is a scene towards the end of the wonderful new film LIVING where a relatively unimportant character reminisces about eavesdropping on Bill Nighy’s character who is singing gently to himself in the falling snow. The serenity on Nighy’s face, and the gentleness of that moment sums up the journey of a man who, unbeknownst to himself, had stopped “living” after his wife’s death.

However, a tryst with his own mortality forces him to pause and search for a purpose in his life. Which he eventually finds, by bringing happiness into the lives of strangers.

LIVING is a beautiful and faithful adaptation of Japanese auteur Akita Kurosawa’s 1962 gem IKIRU, which was equally bittersweet, gentle and poignant despite its much longer running time (IKIRU is almost thirty minutes longer than LIVING). It has been adapted in English by author Kazuo Ishiguro, a masterstroke by the filmmakers who hired a Japanese to adapt the original and tailor it to match the sensibilities of 1960s England.

This is a sweet and gentle film that moves at a very deliberate pace. Bill Nighy, as always, brings a soothing yet firm gravitas to the role. Whether it’s Kurosawa’s 1950s Japan or director Oliver Hermanus’ 1960s London, the relevancy of the story feels as familiar in today’s age as it must have felt decades ago.

Pervasive red-tape and bureaucracy depicted in the two films plagues government and municipal offices throughout the world to this day. And these places are run mostly by people like Nighy who also seem to have forgotten the true art of LIVING, along the way.

While the search for a true purpose of life continues within all of us, LIVING shows us how it’s never too late to make a difference in your own life as well as in that of others around you. A gem of a film that will stay with you for a long time after it’s over.

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