Still Life is a quiet British film with a mighty heart. Written and directed by Uberto Pasolini (best known as a producer of The Full Monty), it tackles the subject of loneliness with the lightest of touches. John May (Eddie Marsan) is a man who notices. His job at a local London council depends on it: part detective, part chief mourner, it falls on him to track down the next of kin of residents who died intestate and, invariably, alone.
Over 22 years, May’s role has expanded to include organising, attending and writing the eulogies for the funerals of his “clients”. He pieces together their lives by observation – a birthday card here, a dent in a pillow there – and creates a life for them in words and music.
Marsan inhabits the role of May with very few words and even fewer gestures. His presence is a stillness in the centre of the camera lens while life in all its noisy chaos goes on around him. Background noise is turned up a notch – traffic, bird song, distant voices – as if to emphasise the quietness of his own life.
Marsan himself is probably one of the best character actors you’ve never heard of. Known in the UK for his television and film appearances – including in Mike Leigh’s 2008 feature Happy-Go-Lucky, and in the US for crime drama Ray Donovan – he received the best British actor award at the 2014 Edinburgh international film festival for his portrayal of May, his first role as the romantic lead.
Romance is not a part of May’s daily life. He lives alone in a tidy council flat devoid of any personal touches. He is shocked to learn that his latest client – left for weeks before being found – lived opposite him. “A loner,” says his unsympathetic boss Mr Pratchett (The Crown’s Andrew Buchan). “You know the type.”
The death of this fellow loner – William Stoke – affects May more than any of the others. When May is “let go” from his council job shortly after, he asks for more time to arrange a suitable send-off for Stoke. Pratchett grudgingly allows him a few days, unpaid, to complete this last case.
May’s dogged research leads him to an estranged daughter named Kelly (Downton Abbey’s Joanne Froggatt) living in Truro, Cornwall. She too lives alone, and the two strangers share the unspoken empathy of lonely people.
They meet up again at a cafe a few days before the funeral to go over the arrangements. Kelly Stoke can hardly fail to be touched by the thoughtfulness of the man sitting across from her. As her train leaves the station, she asks John if he would meet her after the funeral for a cup of tea.
From that moment on, May’s demeanour changes. His blank expression takes on a sweetness bordering on a smile. For the first time, a gentle guitar score can be heard above the now-muted sounds of the train running on its tracks and the cries of children in the park. He is now an active participant in the world that surrounds him, not a passive onlooker.
The camerawork in Still Life conveys the loneliness of the main character and that of his “charges” in this dialogue-light film. Its title is reflected in the painterly still shots and vignettes of the empty spaces they leave behind. Small gestures take on a poignancy that makes parts of it almost unbearable to watch.
The final controversial scene has divided reviewers and led to accusations that it undoes all the goodwill built up to that point. The sceptical are outraged and the sentimental are moved by it: either way, it’s worth investing the 88 minutes it takes to reach the end of this moving, unpretentious gem of a film.
