Despite being one of the most straightforward and simple films I’ve seen in a while, it is difficult to speak about Lucky in a way that actually makes sense. There are some films that are almost celestial in how perfect they are, and while I don’t through around the word “perfect” very often, Lucky is one of the few films that actually comes close to achieving sheer cinematic perfection. Perhaps the difficulty I find in reviewing this film comes from the fact that it is almost a fateful combination of a number of narrative and cinematic elements that I absolutely adore – it is an independent drama about life and death that gives arguably the greatest character actor of all time not only one of his greatest leading roles, but also a melancholy swan song to end a long, fruitful and iconic career that spanned over half a century. It is also directed by another fantastic character actor and has a cast populated by some familiar faces (with one in particular obviously being of great interest to me). However, what I loved the most about Lucky is the beautiful story it set out to tell and the way in which it told that story. It has a message, and the execution was absolutely stunning and profound and left me feeling a plethora of emotions – excitable joy, bitter nostalgia and poignant heartbreak. Lucky is one of those few films that just forego a journey through the brain and rather finds its residence directly in the hearts and souls of the audience, a byproduct of the tender and beautiful attention to constructing such a meaningful statement about something so simple, yet so complex at the same time: life.

Lucky follows the titular character (whether the word “lucky” is a reference to the character or a comment on his disposition remains to be seen), 90-year-old Lucky, played by the incredible Harry Dean Stanton, who is somewhat of an optimistic curmudgeon, lacking the misanthropy that would make him unlikable, but being direct and brutally honest enough to be slightly difficult to get along with from time to time. He has been happily living alone, and each morning wakes up and undergoes his daily ritual of yoga exercises and a commute to various locations in town, such as the coffee shop where he spends time socializing with staff and customers alike, as well as the local convenience store, where the proprietor takes a particular liking to the eccentric gentle soul. He is constantly lamenting about the nature of life, and often, through his position as an outspoken (although secretly anxiously uncertain) atheist and stubborn intellectual, finds himself at odds with his fellow townspeople, who, despite Lucky’s troublesome persona, find it difficult to not be endeared by his unique outlook on life and death. After a health scare following an arbitrary fall, Lucky realizes that he is not a young man anymore, and he has to come to terms with the fact that his time is limited. Despite being in good health, his mortality is constantly on his mind, and over the course of the film, Lucky is shown to attempt to understand his fate, and his inability to hide his complete fear at the unknown that waits beyond death. Through his interactions with other characters, Lucky starts to realize that there is a spark of kindness and generosity that exists throughout humanity, even if it isn’t entirely obvious at the surface.

Lucky is an anomaly of a film because, at its core, it covers the one subject that collectively unsettles the human spirit: death. Yet, despite being about death, it is far from morbid, and while it never attempts to make death seem pleasant or enjoyable, it also avoids being depressing, dark or uncomfortable. If anything, Lucky succeeds as a commentary on the certainty of death, and how we are all unique and different in our backgrounds and our pursuits, but we share the same fate of eventually reaching a demise, whether it is tragically early and premature, or after a life well lived, such as in the case of out titular hero, a man who struggles to understand that his time is limited and that despite his longevity so far, his body will start to say a gentle goodbye as it approaches the moment of ceasing to operate. Lucky is a poignant film precisely because it never tries to be anything other than a straightforward, but still beautifully poetic, statement on finding peace within ourselves and within others in order to make our inevitable demise less painful than it has to be. It is a film about understanding that we are all tragically human, and like Lucky, we need to understand our own flawed humanity and come to peace with it, and perhaps even just embrace all of our faults, because as the popular adage says, none of us gets out alive. For a film that has death as a central theme, it is a relatively tranquil and pleasant film, and it is beautifully nostalgic rather than being an attempt to make the audience anxious about their own mortality.

Yet, despite having death as a prominent theme (or rather, the idea of death, because thankfully no one actually dies throughout this film), I would not call Lucky a film that focuses on being about death, but rather a film that is a beautifully melancholy celebration of life. Lucky, despite coming to understand his own mortality, does not take this realization as a death sentence, but rather an excuse to garner every moment of potential joy out of what remains of his life, being uncertain about how long that will be, but being entirely aware of the fact that he needs to make the most out of it. Lucky is not a depressing film and is a moving, often very funny, statement on the beauty of life, an exploration of the human condition as we go about our day to day lives, interacting with others and growing through our experiences. The brutal honesty of this film, showing the truthfulness of life may appear stark and unapproachable in description, but in execution, it is a gorgeously wonderful ode to existence, showing the inherent flaws that come with being alive. Lucky discovers the word “realism” in a crossword, and the idea of conveying something that is accurate and true to life is a recurring element of this film and allows Lucky to be a perceptive, beguiling representation of the facts of life. Lucky may be about the titular character coming to terms with his impending death, but it is a film more preoccupied with showing his realization of the glorious splendour of life rather than his apprehension towards death. The central message of Lucky is that we cannot change the fact that we will die, but rather we can change the way we live and our perceptions of the world.

I feel it is entirely unnecessary to lament about Harry Dean Stanton and his invaluable contributions to the world of acting. A performer with a career spanning over half a century, being able to effortlessly oscillate between small supporting roles in such projects as the films and television projects of David Lynch and big-budget fare such as Alien and The Avengers and countless other films, or having major roles in films such as Paris, Texas and Repo Man, to being a welcome presence in independent cinema. There isn’t any other way to say it that directly: Harry Dean Stanton was the greatest character actor to ever live. Lucky, in a way, feels like a spiritual successor to Paris, Texas, a film that saw Stanton playing another philosophical loner in an arid environment searching for some meaning. However, his performance as Lucky is far more cynical and bitter than the hopeful and reserved Travis Henderson, but that outspoken nature of his character here gives Stanton something truly extraordinary to work with. It is important to separate fiction from reality, but there is something deeply upsetting about this film due to the fact that Stanton died only a few days before it debuted, in essence making this Stanton’s final performance. There is a certain profound dignity in a film like Lucky being Stanton’s final great performance (with only the return of Twin Peaks remaining afterwards), because it serves to be a beautiful swan song to an actor with an utterly incredible career.

However, as I said, it is far too easy to view this film as simply being Stanton’s final performance and the swan song to his career, but that would dismiss the fact that Stanton was just wonderful in the film, regardless of the depressing fact that it was his last. Stanton plays Lucky as a ragged philosophical cowboy, rough-and-tough and full of a certain brawny joie de vivre. Stanton is self-assured and confident throughout, never having a moment of anything other than sheer, unadulterated brilliance. For a character that is aware of his own impending death, Stanton approaches this character with so much enthusiastic gusto, refusing to allow the character to be the archetypal frail and delicate senior citizen that cinema loves to convey. Lucky is far from being the all-knowing, omnipotent wise elder that we’d expect – he is as tragically flawed as everyone, filled with ignorance and uncertainty and fearful unknowingness of what tomorrow brings, and the way in which Stanton makes Lucky endearing through his own insecurities and anxieties is truly tremendous. He is far from being a cliched “old man”, but he is rather a profoundly realistic and perfectly constructed representation of an individual who suddenly realizes their own humanity as well as the humanity of those around them. If this is not the best male performance of the year, then I am not entirely sure what is. I salute Harry Dean Stanton, both for his terrific performance in Lucky, and for his incredible, decades-spanning career that made him nothing short of a true cinematic icon. It is a performance such as this one in Lucky that confirms my belief that there has never been an actor quite like Harry Dean Stanton, capable of such melancholic brilliance, and I doubt that there ever will be again. His performance in Lucky is absolutely astonishing, and it is a heart-warming, often very funny but most deeply moving, performance from a truly incredible actor.

It would not go amiss to mention the rest of the cast, also constructed out of familiar faces throughout. James Darren and Beth Grant are scene-stealers as the couple who may be old but are certainly still very much in love and their passionate love is palpable, and sometimes even unbearably juxtaposed with Lucky’s own concealed loneliness, which he vehemently denies throughout (he even makes use of the popular adage “there is a difference between being lonely and being alone”). Tom Skerritt (who last worked with Stanton in 1979 on the seminal science fiction masterwork Alien) has a lovely moment where his character and Lucky reminisce about their military service during the Second World War. However (because I need to mention this), there is one person in this film that struck my attention: David Lynch. Not having any involvement in this film other than starring as one of Lucky’s friends, Lynch is terrific. Playing Howard, a man who has recently lost his pet tortoise, he has some magnificent moments of profound meditative clarity, managing to condense what he considers to be the meaning of life into a small, compact monologue about existence, relating it to the lifespan of a tortoise. I am not sure what drove Lynch to play the character (perhaps as a favor to his friend Harry Dean?), but I do know that he was fantastic, and he proves to be far more than one of the greatest filmmakers of all time, but also a rather talented actor (although anyone who has seen the “Late Show” episodes of Louie, or his hilarious performance as Gordon Cole on Twin Peaks will tell you that Lynch has some great capabilities as a performer).

Lucky is a small film, but it is one with an enormous heart, and a profound, meaningful story told through the lens of a quaint independent film. First-time director John Carroll Lynch (a consistently fantastic character actor in his own right) crafts a complex neo-western drama that focuses more on the characters rather than the locale. It is a film without any excessive trickery or cinematic flair and conveys its story through the most blunt and straightforward narrative techniques possible. Yet, in spite of its brutal honesty and frank nature, Lucky is far from being a bleak film and feels like one of the most hopeful, uplifting films of the year. It has an undeniably strong tranquillity, and its approach to the subject matter is nothing short of incredible. For everything it lacks in cinematic style, it overcompensates for in pure emotional resonance, being able to move the audience deeply through its candid and forthright representation of human nature, being one of the most extraordinarily beautiful films of the year. It is a film that flows extremely well, telling its story in a way that does not conceal the anxieties many of us experience when we realize that death is inevitable and that our time is uncertain, but also shows the inherent magnificence of existence which can be found in the most unexpected places – in a song, in a story or in a smile shared with another human being. It is truly an exceptional film.

John Carroll Lynch did something special here. He managed to make a film that served to be one of the most poignant farewells to an actor ever committed to screen, a film that gave Harry Dean Stanton the opportunity to show his unique capabilities and extraordinary talents one last time, even if that wasn’t the intention behind the making of this film. It is a quaint and entertaining film about very serious issues, told in a way that is not heavy-handed or bleak, but rather uplifting and inspiring. It is a film that leaves you with a goofy smile on your face and a certain awe for existence. Sometimes it takes the smallest, most inconsequential films to remind us of bigger issues, and Lucky certainly makes some profound statements on such issues. Lucky is a film with a message: make the most out of life and live without regrets. It is a film complex in story, simple in execution and utterly terrific in every conceivable way. Harry Dean Stanton gives an amazing performance and is supported by a generous cast who are able to highlight Stanton’s central performance while still having wonderful moments of their own. Lucky is the kind of film that makes me fall in love with cinema all over again because such raw dedication to conveying truthful emotion is absolutely admirable. I went into Lucky expecting to love it – it exceeded all my expectations and moved me in a way very few films are able to move me. Truly an exquisite, beautiful piece of cinema.