We all know Nighy's schtick by now and it is amply demonstrated here. Some will be taken in by it but not me. It's strictly by the numbers and seems to be directed by an earnest dogooder hoping to create something lovely and emotional. Instead it's embarrassing rot, ultimately. If they were trying to emulate the far superior Remains of the Day, stitched together with a bit of Phantom Thread, it just doesn't hold together. It's what passes though, these days, for 'quality' filmmaking but it has no discipline, no real control. Let's mix together some stiff British upper lip, reserve, a 1950s background, a couple of red London buses and some bowler hats and some a few dollops of sentiment...result is a gooey slice of British stodge. It's as if real studio control and discipline has been turfed out the window and some empathetic teenagers decide to 'come up with a really lovely film' etc. It is strictly fake, folks.
Review of Living
