Still Life Firstly, it's great to see Eddie Marsan front and centre. His is a face you'll probably know so well, even if the name is not familiar. In this film he shows the talent, the craftsmanship, that his years of supporting roles have taught him. He uses his distinctive face to it's best, conveying emotions with subtlety. In many respects, this is a story partly told through his face.
It's a simple, sensitive and unashamedly sentimental film. Some might think 'sentimental' is a criticism but it's a film about death and loneliness so it's going to sentimental. If you can't handle that then don't watch it! The end is abrupt but also, in a sense, foreseeable. Necessary even. The final scene will have some thinking it mawkish, treacley manipulation, But it worked for me. I don't often cry in films but I did then. In fact, I was a weepy a number of times. As Marsan's face surveys the relics of yet another lonely death, it's impossible not to think of the life that person had and feel the sadness of them passing forgotten. That, for me, was this film's strength. Whatever these people are in death, their life's were as rich and as full as anyone’s. They lived, loved and breathed. Felt joys and pains as we all do.
One might feel there's a broader critique of 'broken Britain' in this film. I don't think so. It's aims are not in that direction. It's a film about death and life. It tells it's story not in a familiar direct dialogue driven narrative, but through expressions and observations. Visual vignettes, sometimes humorous, and 'still life' shots - of photographs, of peeled apples, or books propping up chairs. It aims to make you feel rather than think, intellectualise or even contextualise or rationalise. For that simplicity, it's effective and quite simply beautiful. It's a rare treat of a film and one that's found it's way into my favourites list.
