“Dying is easy, comedy is hard” – no one truly knows where this popular adage comes from, but it been espoused by countless people across the decades, all of which remarks on the challenges that come with doing comedic work, and how it tends to be the most significant, but worthwhile challenge for any actor, on par with death, whether acting it out or experiencing it for oneself. However, there are, on occasion, films that tend to look at both comedy and death, attempting to combine them in such a way to find the humour in tragedy, and the most affecting moments of humanity in life’s most outrageous moments. Last Holiday is a film that occurs at the peak of the famed British production company Ealing’s existence – just before it reached its apex with films like The Ladykillers, but still an established studio that produced some fantastic films, most notably their comedies, which are a blend of darkly comical caustic wit, and more serious themes, which are amalgamated in quite unexpectedly brilliant ways that make them some of the most fascinating works produced in post-Second World War cinema. Last Holiday is a fantastic film, one that is inarguably somewhat rough around the edges (the result of a story that could be considered ahead of its time, and still quite revolutionary by today’s standards), but well-meaning and incredibly funny, while never avoiding to make some potent commentary on deep existential issues that rarely found their home in the exuberant comedies that Ealing seemed to be responding to with films like this. As a whole, Henry Cass put together quite an effective little comedy that confronts death, greets it like an old friend and invites it in for tea – and this kind of intrepid approach to the most serious of all concepts is exactly what makes Last Holiday such a riveting film in the first place.

George Bird (Alec Guinness) is a mild-mannered salesman who leads a very simple life, which he is shocked to learn may not be as long as he expected. He’s diagnosed with Lampington’s Disease, a rare gastrointestinal disorder that is almost always fatal. Confronted with this horrifying news, George is advised to spend out his last days doing what he loves, in order to make sure that when the time comes for him to pass (which the doctors claim could be as early as a matter of weeks), he has lived life to the fullest. He decides to act increasingly out of pocket by withdrawing all his savings from the bank, cashing in his life insurance and purchasing an array of expensive suits and booking himself indefinitely into an exclusive countryside hotel, where he immediately becomes the subject of conversation. Both the residents and the staff of the resort begin to speculate to the identity of their mysterious new visitor-friendly but reserved, George makes many friends but keeps the reason for his sudden arrival a closely-guarded secret. He intermingles with a variety of fellow guests and the people who work in the hotel, becoming an invaluable friend to many of them, whether in his empathy for the staff being a welcome change from the more demanding guests, or his immense intelligence and insights being a breath of fresh air for the stuffy businessmen and politicians that populate the hotel, allowing them to sample from his endless knowledge that he is far too keen to impart. The days go on, and George does his best to stay in good spirits – he is, after all, trying his very best to make the most of whatever time he has left. However, he soon finds that his imminent death has afforded him more chances in life than he had ever encountered – he becomes a sensation amongst the businessmen, who want him to work for them, a valuable ally to the political figures that adore his everyman sensibilities, and he ultimately even falls in love for the first time in his life. With his demise looming over his head, George makes the active decision to live the rest of his life, whether it be months, weeks or days, to the fullest.

The best way to describe Last Holiday is by stealing a phrase from another similarly-themed film, the astonishing French comedy The Shameless Old Lady, where the main character is said to have “eaten from the bread of life until the very last crumb” – this kind of story is not one that is all that uncommon in cinema. This very film has been an inspiration for many subsequent works, even having an ill-fated remake that has the story but lacks the charisma or rugged charm that makes this such an absolute delight. Death is a tricky business, but it’s one that has been the subject of countless works, many of which take a straightforward approach to dealing with death, encompassing a range of genres that look at the inevitable through different lenses. However, its often been comedies about death that have been of most interest – the most serious subject imaginable is not formally something that can elicit much laughter, as evident by the many works that take a more flippant approach to looking at it. However, when done right, nothing can come close to the poignancy of a work trying to make us laugh through confronting us with a different view of dying. It isn’t always particularly easy to tackle this subject, especially since, unlike many other themes, death isn’t something any of us can avoid, and the question of the process of realizing our time is coming to an end being one that is a universal issue that we’ll all confront at some point. This is where Last Holiday works so exceptionally well – J.B. Priestly was an incredible wordsmith, and his writings always evoked a wide range of emotions, provoking thought and evoking laughter, to the point where his masterful control of not only the language but the entire human condition, became clear in his work, regardless of the medium he was working in at that particular moment. He could take us on journeys that were profoundly reflective of shared experiences, and they often tend to have a timeless quality – and when coupled with a story of realizing one’s own mortality, the result is something quite incredible.

Last Holiday was Priestly’s only solo screenwriting credit (other than a minor Second World War propaganda film), and it shows, particularly through the caustic sense of humour employed by the film, as well as the film being vaguely theatrical insofar as the cinematic veneer that was normally put up by many other Ealing comedies was absent here – this is a heartwrenching melodrama masquerading as a charming comedy, with the vacillation between the genres being particularly distinctive, but far from gauche. Cass, little more than a studio-kept director-for-hire, does exceptionally well in bringing Priestly’s story to life, and faces the challenges that come with what appears to be a relatively straightforward piece, but turns out to be far more complex in both form and content, with admirable gusto. The director is intent on preventing this film from either being too effervescent to become overly flippant about the issues at the core, or too weighed down by its more downbeat narrative. After all, Last Holiday is essential ninety minutes of watching a man slowly die, which could be an excruciating experience for any of us that hold any fear of death, but is repurposed as being thoroughly compelling through the lens of a more sensitive approach, albeit one that isn’t too interested in the small details of mortality to ruminate on them for too long, but still is willing to put in the effort to demonstrate a deeper understanding of fundamentally human issues. The fact that Priestly was able to channel these intimidating concepts into a comedy that may not be particularly outrageous, but rather gently humorous in the same way a very nostalgic comedy tends to be, is all the more impressive, and a sufficient reason to qualify Last Holiday as one of the most effective works on the challenging concept of death.

However, to consider this film one solely about death is misguided, since there’s a lot more to this film that what appears on the surface, particularly in how the theme of death may be central to the story, but Last Holiday is a celebration of life. Even from the title, the sensation of heartfelt melancholy is derived – the film revolves around a man going on his final holiday. The central role required someone who had the everyman sensibilities to sell the audience on the idea that George was the epitome of ordinary, a man without any discernible qualities other than his honour and dignity, which he takes to the very end. As a result, Alec Guinness was cast, and he gives one of his most fascinating performances of his early career, playing the ill-fated man who decides to do what he can in the last days of his life. Guinness was an actor who could do nearly everything, from playing heroes and villains, taking on an array of roles that saw him adopt the guise of scoundrels and cads, wise old masters and sardonic antagonists. A big part of Last Holiday hinges on Guinness and his reserved performance as George, with the actor going to extraordinary lengths to add nuance and depth to an otherwise subdued character. George is told multiple times throughout the film to “keep a stiff upper lip”, which reflects exactly what Guinness was doing with the part – he played George as someone barely maintaining his composure, remaining graceful but always a moment away from falling apart, which gives the performance so much depth and makes this one of the most surprisingly subtle, but no less magnificent, entries into the career of a fantastic actor – and the fact that Last Holiday occurs between two of his most distinctively outrageous performances, Kind Hearts and Coronets and The Lavender Hill Mob, only makes seeing him play such a subtle, human individual an even more enriching experience. There are some scene-stealing supporting roles in the film (I am quite partial to Eveline Kirkwood-Hackett, who is incredibly funny in the role of a pernickety old biddy who carries a real heart of gold), but none of them can come close to the quiet intensity Guinness brings to the role.

Despite the subject matter, Last Holiday isn’t a bleak film in any way – ultimately, it may focus on death, but that doesn’t mean its limited to this aspect of the storytelling in any way. It functions less as an elegy to those who are near their demise, and more as a beautifully poetic celebration of life, a potent reminder to cherish every moment. The film doesn’t avoid embracing the underlying sadness, and it fools us into thinking the joyful climax is tantamount to the resolution of the central plot, but it’s in this balance that it finds its footing, and becomes something extremely special in its own individual way. Through employing genuine emotion, which gives the film an undercurrent of extreme authenticity, and a heartfelt approach to a story that has been told in many different ways over the years, Last Holiday is a terrific film. It uses comedy as a means of working through tragedy and showing that a literal death sentence doesn’t necessarily need to mean one has to resign to their eventual fate. This is an inherently celebratory film, one where comedy is used as a triumph over tragedy, but not in a way that indicates a happy ending is a foregone conclusion. Last Holiday is a heart-wrenchingly sad film that has moments of touching humour scattered throughout, yet still manages to be oddly uplifting at the same time. Through wonderful performances, a simple storyline that carries a lot of heft, and general comfort in how it takes on the most intimidating of themes, Last Holiday is a very special film, and should absolutely be reconsidered as a truly touching work of mid-century comedy.