While he is viewed as arguably one of the most important filmmakers to have emerged out of the United Kingdom (perhaps only second to Sir David Lean in terms of cultural impact), there was a time when Mike Leigh wasn’t the massively acclaimed cinematic stalwart he is considered today, but rather a dedicated writer and director peddling his wares on television. His roots are in this medium, but unlike other filmmakers who have tried to distance themselves from their origins, Leigh has looked fondly on his earlier career and has constantly spoken with affection about the films he made when he was starting out in the industry. One of his most intriguing works is The Kiss of Death, which he wrote and directed as part of his partnership with the BBC, and which aired as part of their Play for Today programming, in which many of his most compelling works were produced. The film tells the story of a mild-mannered young undertaker’s assistant as he navigates London in the early 1970s, oscillating between his career-based commitments, as well as his domestic life,  which includes familial responsibilities and his friends’ constant attempts to set him up with a suitable romantic partner, something in which our protagonist is not particularly interested. A heartfelt and deeply compelling comedy that carries Leigh’s distinctive traits from its opening moments, The Kiss of Death is quite a charming and enticing film, handcrafted by a director whose commitment to exploring different aspects of the human condition has long been one of his greatest qualities, as well as the guiding force behind many of his films. Not particularly complex, but still simmering with daring ideas, the film is certainly amongst the director’s most enduring works and one that has only proven to be one of his defining moments as a filmmaker.

Leigh’s work has always been more observational than it has been discursive, and while many of his films tend to veer towards containing some kind of message, the director usually seems to draw inspiration from the surrounding world, with layers of meaning only being added on as the process continues and the story begins to take form. The Kiss of Death is one of the more blatant examples of his tendency to be influenced by simple demonstrations of humanity, since there isn’t much structure to this film outside of a series of episodic vignettes plucked from the daily routine of the protagonist. Only someone with the insights and deep compassion as Leigh would be able to weave together a story that focuses on someone so singularly unremarkable and common, but yet comes across as entirely compelling and heartfelt. Throughout this film, Leigh constructs a portrait of the youth of London in the 1970s, observing the trials and tribulations of people who were at the time his peers (and we can see his vision shift slightly as he grows older – he didn’t become cynical as he aged, but his portrayal of the folly of youth does tend to be altered by the march of time), offering astute but poignant investigations into the way they live their lives. There is obviously deeper commentary beneath the surface of the film, with Leigh himself stating that The Kiss of Death was partially autobiographical, but for the most part it functions as a more simple, delightful tapestry of London at a very particular moment in the past, one in which the baby boomers were coming of age and starting their own bespoke journeys through life, focusing on the various challenges that they encounter along the way, which makes for very compelling and emotionally resonant viewing.

Devotees to Leigh’s work have occasionally made comparisons between The Kiss of Death and Meantime, the latter his second theatrically-released film (albeit still produced by the BBC and broadcast on their network), not only in terms of the subject matter but also in terms of the tone and structure. These are both films about shy, introverted young men growing up in working-class neighbourhoods, with the stories focusing on their very simple attempts to just drift through life, encountering a range of eccentrics along the way. It’s a wonderful technique that Leigh has returned to on occasion, and while his hard-hitting, social realist dramas may be the reason he is considered one of the greatest artists of his generation, it’s his forays into comedy that usually capture our hearts, as represented throughout this delightful and irreverent work of humour. One of his great gifts as a filmmaker is consistency – his work today is as fresh and dynamic as the ones he produced at the start of his career, and conversely, his earlier films are as mature and fully-formed in their vision as the ones he made as he grew older. The Kiss of Death carries that remarkable simplicity that usually guided his vision, being structured as brief moments in the day-to-day life of the protagonist as he navigates various challenges, none of them particularly out of the ordinary – although there is quite a harrowing scene, where the main character and his colleague have to go retrieve the body of an infant that died – but even here, he doesn’t offer any sense of heavy-handed sentimentality, nor does he feel impelled to provide any explanation, the entire film carrying a matter-of-fact tone that impacts the entire story and makes it so devilishly compelling. Leigh is rarely interested in doing anything entirely overwrought, and the more charming, upbeat tone of this film contrasts heavily with the sombre subject matter – but who else could we expect to make a film about the simple joys that come in the daily life of an undertaker than Leigh, someone whose work is always reflective of the most intricate minutiae of the working class and their everyday experiences as they navigate different aspects of existence?

As with any of his films, The Kiss of Death is formed as a collaboration between Leigh and his actors. He has always been known for extracting the best work out of his performers, who in turn flock to work with him based on the fact that he spends so much time developing these parts in conjunction with his ensembles, giving them a sense of community. The protagonist in this film is portrayed by David Threlfall, a fantastic character actor and mainstay on British television for over half a century. This is one of his earliest performances (in fact, it is his first credited role), but you would not know that he was a newcomer based on the strength of his work, and he is spellbinding in the part, playing the role of this charming but shy young man in a slightly off-kilter way, but never once comes across as needlessly twee or hinting at some sinister underlying motives. Instead, he’s just a delightfully strange individual who enjoys a more simple, unfurnished life, something that goes against the aspirations of his peers, who constantly wish for more. The rest of the cast is populated by the same category of hardworking character actors who are not widely-known, but who still deliver exceptional, lived-in performances that produce layered, complex explorations of the human condition without depending too heavily on quirks or melodramatic approaches to acting that feel genuinely earnest and captivating, making for fluid, captivating storytelling that is as charming and insightful as it is outrageously funny, which is something we find is quite a regular occurrence in many of Leigh’s more humorous works.

Undeniably, The Kiss of Death is not a film that is often spoken about when it comes to Leigh’s directorial output. It is a small-scale, intimate comedy produced for television (and even under this label, it doesn’t carry the acclaim for its handling of challenging subject matter like Abigail’s Party or Hard Labour, or any of the more notable films he produced for the BBC earlier in his career), and one that doesn’t tackle topics that are all too daring. However, this doesn’t mean it isn’t worth our time, and it proves to be an absolute delight, with its peculiar tone, exceptionally strong writing, wonderful performances and general atmosphere being one that lends itself to a more easygoing, likeable experience. It’s not particularly daring, but as a relatively conventional, straightforward realist comedy, it does relatively well to examine certain themes, which is the ultimate reason the film works and becomes a major achievement in Leigh’s incredible career. Not his most complex film in terms of themes or execution, but rather one that follows a more traditional trajectory, the film is a unique and very charming work that interrogates several issues in a manner that is decidedly much less complex than we would expect, but which still conveys the same message in clear, undeniably compelling terms. Upbeat, quirky and genuinely very charming, The Kiss of Death is far more lovely than its title suggests, and a truly endearing entry into Leigh’s storied canon of works.