Bill Nighy proves that ‘subtly devastating’ is not an oxymoron in the beautifully painted film Living.

NRPLUS MEMBER ARTICLE I love me some films about painfully repressed Englishmen. Fade in on an umbrella-toting, bowler-wearing, pleasure-rejecting, granite-faced member of the starched-underpants brigade, and I’m hooked. Think of a movie about a safecracker: You know the box will get opened, and it’s delicious to wonder how. Oh, and Bill Nighy is my favorite actor. So guess whether I liked Nighy’s new one, in which he plays a rigidly correct Fifties bureaucrat who hasn’t smiled since V.E. Day.

I’d walk eight miles through a swamp of toe fungus to watch Nighy read the weather report, and the actor’s impeccable taste in material does

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