Living review: an extremely proper British film is the perfect vehicle for an extremely proper Bill Nighy
The Kazuo Ishiguro-penned adaptation of Akira Kurosawa's Ikiru is a gentle, expertly crafted meditation on dying and, of course, living

Rarely does a film arrive in theaters with a lineage of creators as highly pedigreed (and as long) as that of Living. The story, that of a successful bureaucrat looking back over his life in light of a fatal diagnosis, was originally penned by Leo Tolstoy in the form of his 1886 novella The Death Of Ivan Ilyich. Tolstoy is of course the highly lauded author of Russian masterpieces War And Peace and Anna Karenina as well. Ivan Ilyich was then adapted by legendary Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa into Ikiru, which some claim to be the best film in his impressive roster of films that includes Seven Samurai and Ran. Ikiru was in turn adapted into English as Living by Nobel and Booker Prize winner Sir Kazuo Ishiguro. Two of his acclaimed novels, Never Let Me Go and The Remains Of The Day, have been adapted into award-winning films, with the latter receiving eight Oscar nominations. And thus, Living arrived at Sundance last winter boasting a list of ancestors more illustrious than Prince Harry’s.
This latest iteration of Ivan Ilyich (in select theaters December 23) stars Bill Nighy in a uniquely British version of the story. The film opens with Mr. Wakeling (Alex Sharp of The Trial Of The Chicago 7) as a bright-eyed, eager-to-please fledgling bureaucrat starting a new job in the Public Works department of 1953 London. Taking the (very British) steam engine to work each morning, he watches as the bespoke bowler-cap-wearing, prim-and-proper (and very British) Mr. Williams (Nighy) boards the train. In the office, they are joined by several other dapper gentlemen and the charming secretary Miss Harris (Sex Education’s Aimee Lou Wood) as they sort through immense files of paper. With little emotion and much decorum, they pass forms around, scribbling down notes (very Britishly), before either sending them off through the maze of city hall departments or burying them in immense stacks to be revisited and circulated at a later date (much to the chagrin of the civilians trying to clear up matters).