Bill Nighy in Living (Sundance Institute/Number 9 Films/Ross Ferguson)

The most surprising aspect of the 1950s-set Living is its avoidance of the Vera Drake syndrome, in which so many British period postwar dramas become mired in dark grays and browns, with repression and rations to follow and nary a smile on screen. Right from the start, South African director Oliver Hermanus’s film has a spring to its step, with a grainy retro-style credit sequence showcasing London landmarks accompanied by Dvorak’s celebratory Tempo di Valse movement from his Serenade for Strings, op. 22. Hermanus (Moffie) hasn’t yet tipped his hand yet: the movie is based on Akira Kurosawa’s melancholic and existential Ikiru (which translates as “To Live”) from 1952, and has been adapted by novelist Kazuo Ishiguro (The Remains of the Day, a kindred spirit). It had its world premiere at the Sundance Film Festival with the swankiest pedigree in this year’s lineup. 

The initial upbeat mood shifts to the more officious and restrained for Peter Wakeling’s (Alex Sharp) first day at London’s County Hall. While waiting at the East Sussex platform for his city-bound train, he is advised by one soon-to-be colleague to act as though he’s in church: quietly and calmly. Sure enough, the dourness and clipped courtesies in the stiflingly bureaucratic office are epitomized by Wakeling’s new boss, Mr. Williams. If ever there was a starring vehicle for Bill Nighy, this is it. The role offers him his signature restraint, nuance, and droll sense of humor, though we see only a flicker of it. He turns self-effacement into an art form.

Williams has run the public works office like clockwork year in year out, so it’s a shock to his underlings when he doesn’t show up to work for the first time in his 30-year career. Just the day before his absence, he left work early (in another first) for a doctor’s appointment. There he receives a diagnosis: He has terminal cancer and six to nine months to live.

The next day, Williams plays hooky from work, withdraws cash, and escapes from London to relax at a down-market seaside resort. However, he hasn’t a clue on how to enjoy himself until a local layabout, Sutherland (Tom Burke), becomes his temporary best friend and guides him on a tour of the local dives, including a hoochie-coochie show. Sutherland becomes the first—and for a while, only—person to whom he reveals the diagnosis. With his temporary wingman by his side, Williams sets out to live out his remaining lifespan to the fullest. Back on his own in sunny London the next morning, he takes halting steps in loosening up, such as wearing a new hat, and ventures out to see what the city has to offer.

Unlike the recent spate of remakes, from Nightmare Alley to West Side Story, Living offers a fresh take on a noted work by placing its story line in a different cultural context, where it holds up handily. The new version has a tighter structure and a brisker pace, though it hits the same story beats, running 102 minutes versus the original’s 143. However, its most crucial departure lies in the portrayal of the young woman who gives the lead character a temporary new lease on life.

For Kurosawa, she was depicted as course, opportunistic, and meanspirited, and her relationship with the older protagonist had shades of The Blue Angel. In the 2022 version, this female figure, Margaret Harris (Sex Education’s Aimee Lou Wood), has a completely different disposition. Williams’s friendship with her becomes much more paternalistic and benevolent, although Williams admits he has a soft spot for this young woman, who used to work in his office. As a result, the tone is more singularly genteel, softer spoken, and in keeping with a certain tradition of British drama. You could easily imagine a British actress of the postwar era, like Jeans Simmons, Kay Kendall, or Dorothy Tutin, as Margaret.

Hermanus’s reimagining is also undeniably more sentimental, largely because of Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch’s gentle piano score and the uplifting ending. Still, the screenplay balances optimism with button-down pragmatism. It neither skewers nor satirizes British society. Though Williams’s colleagues come across as conventional office workers, the actors playing them skillfully sidestep stereotypes. Even the most functionary pencil pusher has a consciousness or a sense of humor that’s bursting to break loose. However, the director doesn’t completely keep darkness at bay. Before his seaside day trip, Williams first considers overdosing—he has a mini-pharmacy of medication. Ever the gentleman, he thinks of others; he didn’t want to shock his landlady.

Hermanus has made this smart reinterpretation of a classic film his own. One wouldn’t ever confuse it with Kurosawa’s. In fact, it might remind viewers of another filmmaker. Living’s earnest plea to reconsider how one goes through life wouldn’t be out of place in a Frank Capra movie. 

Living has been acquired by Sony Pictures Classics for release later this year.