What better excuse to revisit material that has been adapted a few times before than to bring it back with a living legend? The new film by Italian filmmaker Edoardo Ponti, based on the novel The Life Before Us by Romain Gary, might exist for this sole reason. Besides a Broadway musical (Roza) and a French TV movie, the novel served as the source for the acclaimed 1977 French film Madame Rosa, an Academy Award winner for Best Foreign-Language Film. Now retitled as The Life Ahead, Ponti’s approach seems justified by the presence of his mother—muse, sex symbol, and icon of Italian cinema—Sophia Loren.

At 86, the actress returns to feature films after a more than 10-year hiatus since her more-than-a-glorified cameo in the underrated musical Nine (2009). Rosa (played by Simone Signoret in the 1977 version) is a Holocaust survivor and ex-streetwalker who now takes care of other sex workers’ children. The meaty role is a fitting finale, or maybe the start of a new act, for Loren’s remarkable career. Whatever the future holds, such a comeback is a blessing simply for her excellent performance.

The Life Ahead transplants the action to contemporary Southern Italy (it was largely filmed in Bari), where a 12-year-old Senegalese orphan, Momo (Ibrahima Gueye), doesn’t have many chances to survive outside of the plentiful criminal opportunities. Momo’s voice-over from a not too distant future guides the narrative as he recalls his time with Rosa (Loren) and the fundamental role she played in his life, even after a rocky start. They first meet when he steals her silver candlesticks in a street market. She only agrees to care for him after a generous sum of money from the boy’s most recent guardian changes her heart. Predictably, Rosa and Momo’s initial reticence about living together turns into a hard-won relationship.

We have seen this story many times before, but despite its familiarity, it feels fresh because of the two actors’ performances. Gueye is a revelation, his intuitive acting expresses the layers of a premature adult who has experienced suffering and a boy who still wants to play and imagine a world that could give him the motherly affection he once knew. (A maternal stand-in, a CGI lioness, appears in his not-so-subtle dreams.)

Regarding Loren, where to begin? She commands the screen with a naturalistic performance, inhabiting the stark world of a woman who has had a hard life. Almost every night, Rosa descends to the basement, confined in an isolated, dark place because that’s what she did in Auschwitz to calm herself. When she explains this to Momo, he asks her what Auschwitz means. What an odd relief for her to know someone who hasn’t yet learn the horror behind that word.

In another painful scene, she remains standing on the roof of the apartment building as though looking into the void, having forgotten for a few minutes that she was to collect the clothes on the line. It’s pouring, and she’s dripping wet, resembling the empty shell of who she once was. At this point, you completely forget that she’s Sophia Loren, lauded as one of the most beautiful women in the world. Instead you remember that she remains one of the most talented actresses still working.

The Life Ahead leads to an easy-to-guess conclusion, meddled with the final touch of corniness, a Diane Warren–penned ballad. And in the scenes where Loren is not present, the story never goes beyond the formulaic tale of a boy who may or may not become a criminal, and it almost feels like a different film. But when the two actors are together, the result leaves an impressive mark of frankness and compassion.

Sophia Loren is often greater than any movie she appears in, and this is not an exception. Any recognition for delivering one of the best performances of the year would be fair and not just as an excuse to honor her career (she already has a Best Actress Oscar). The best decision Ponti made was to allow her enough space to be the star. She shines quietly. It’s the kind of humbleness that inspires respect and gratitude for the completed work, even if it’s less than perfect.