Joanne Froggatt and Eddie Marsan in Still Life (Tribeca Film)

John May (Happy-Go-Lucky’s Eddie Marsan) has made a career of going to funerals. More specifically, he goes to the ones no one else attends. He selects music, he writes a eulogy, and before the date, he tries doggedly to track down any friends and relatives of the deceased who might be cajoled to show up.

The trouble is, many people who die alone—the kind who aren’t found until neighbors notice the smell—do so for a reason. They are often estranged from family or have left other sad stories in their wake. This makes John’s job a difficult and often thankless one. But it’s all he knows. So when budget cuts at the South London local council eliminate his position, the only thing he wants is time to close his last case.

That one involves Billy Stoke, who died in a dingy flat, which happens to be opposite the tidy one where John lives. Luckily, writer/director Uberto Pasolini does not put too fine a point on it, but part of John’s growing obsession with Stoke must have to do with how literally close to home Stoke’s death struck. Another part is the allure of mystery: Stoke left a yellowed photo album, half empty, with pictures of a smiling young girl.

It turns out Stoke had a difficult life, in and out of prison and on and off the streets. He abandoned some family he didn’t even know about, as well as some that he did. John’s sleuthing leads to encounters with a number of people, including Stoke’s daughter, Kelly (Joanne Froggatt), she of the faded photos. Kelly is at first distant, played by Froggatt with an elegant brittleness, but eventually she warms to John and to his mission. As John keeps asking his boss for more time, it seems his last case might become the first instance of a new and different chapter in his life.

John May is a character who would fit neatly in the verses of “Eleanor Rigby.” He lives a circumscribed life with circumscribed emotions. Even in a London as relatively quiet as the one Pasolini depicts, John’s ever-present desire to avoid any offense, however small, makes him stand out. It’s a great credit to Eddie Marsan that he feels so real. He never lets John become pitiful, and by embracing a kind of childlike nature, he allows us at times to find the humor in the man’s quixotic profession. A scene with him politely sipping whiskey on courthouse steps alongside two homeless men is a highlight, as is watching him gamely suffer through a cup of hot chocolate (he wanted tea) simply because the barista recommended it. One gets the impression he would run on his sword if asked kindly to do so.

Pasolini has designed a world to perfectly complement his protagonist. Full of careful compositions with a drab color scheme, the movie looks a little like a subdued Wes Anderson piece. The script is spare, and the film moves slowly, but the last chapter has the painful yet satisfying irony of an O. Henry story. Still Life can be forgiven for dipping late into sentimentality. The unique John May is a compelling portrait for which Marsan and Pasolini are to be commended.