Life is full of awful epiphanies, a series of shocks that, one by one, threaten to jolt the wonder out of our life. We start off with so much hope, eager to believe in every mystic, magical thing; then we learn, much to our horror, that these things cannot exist, that they are manmade fantasies designed to forestall despair. It's at this point that we resolve to fill our lives with knowledge or distraction; we mean to either make something of our time on this planet, or fill it with noise so as to drown out the ticking of the clock. We do what we can. And then one day we are old. That day arrives quickly for the three main characters in NEVER LET ME GO, a devastatingly precise adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro's acclaimed novel from director Mark Romanek and screenwriter Alex Garland. We meet them as children, and watch with wistful recognition as they learn the fantasies so fastidiously built up for them by adults are nothing but lies. We empathize with their plight. But the lies they've been told are far more pernicious; there is a horrible secret being kept from them by their teachers at Hailsham boarding school. And once it's revealed, they do not run or fight or deny it; they simply accept it as a rotten proposition, and try not to think too much about the inevitable. They do what we do. Set in a dystopian alternate reality where a medical breakthrough has prolonged life beyond the age of 100, NEVER LET ME GO is technically a work of science-fiction. But Romanek and Garland, hewing closely to Ishiguro's text, have crafted a briskly-told coming-of-age story that's more A SEPARATE PEACE than BLADE RUNNER. The narrative is cleanly divided into three acts, the first of which is confined to the suffocatingly drab grounds of Hailsham, located somewhere in a drearily sunless section of England. The film is selectively narrated by Kathy (Carey Mulligan), who has grown up to become a "carer", which, we surmise from the prologue, has to do with tending to individuals confronting daunting medical procedures or disease. There is unmistakable foreshadowing here, but Garland is careful to keep us in the dark as to the disquieting purpose of Hailsham; mostly, he emphasizes the awkward stirrings of love and lust in these precocious youngsters. For Kathy and Tommy (Andrew Garfield), it's a tentative and painful period; for Ruth (Keira Knightley), it's a less anxious time given her confidence and physical beauty. And then, at a far too young age, they're told about "donation" and "completion". This is their destiny, and it is not comforting. Ruth copes with the trauma by cleaving to Tommy, who helplessly acquiesces to her assertive desires; this leaves Kathy as something of a heartbroken third wheel. This is the dynamic heading into the film's second act, which unfolds at "The Cottages", where these emotionally-addled creatures get their first opportunity to engage with the outside world. Ruth and Tommy are very much a couple, while Kathy is lovelorn - and her misery is only exacerbated when Ruth realizes she's still pining for Tommy. Considering that there's a potential benefit to the establishment of "true love", Ruth's taunting of Kathy isn't so much cruel as it is desperate; in a perverse way, it actually behooves her to extinguish Kathy's hope of one day luring Tommy away. There isn't much exposition in Ishiguro's novel, and there's even less in Garland's adaptation; this is a rare modern-day screenplay that demands (and rewards) the viewer's attention. This is of vital importance in the early going, when the world is meant to be as new and mysterious to us as it is the children; however, as the characters enter adulthood, and the wonder dies out, this understatement forces us to examine the supremely nuanced work of the three young actors, all of whom are at their very best. Knightley is predictably adept at conveying Ruth's possessive carnality, but she projects unexpected frailty and resignation during the "donation" stage of the story; she's turned in superlative work in the past, but she's never broken my heart quite like this. Her quiet swagger is deftly offset by Garfield's tightly-coiled awkwardness. Having recently seen him as a bold, womanizing reporter in RED RIDING, I was stunned by how effortlessly Garfield captured Tommy's skittish demeanor; Peter Parker will be a cinch for this kid. And everything will be easy for Mulligan, who strikes nary a false note as Kathy navigates the treacherous peaks and valleys of growing up. Mulligan's got the poise and the versatility of the greats - and she's just getting started. Though he's got three acting thoroughbreds at his disposal, Romanek wisely keeps the emotional temperature turned down for most of the movie. He's given the film a muted, slightly dilapidated look: there's nothing new in this world; aside from a few flourishes (like cars and computers), it feels like the characters are stuck in the 1950s (which, coincidentally, is when the "medical breakthrough" occurred). So when Romanek does allow a sliver of joy to break through the grayness (like when adolescent Kathy sways swooningly in time to fictional chanteuse Judy Bridgewater's rendition of "Never Let Me Go"*), it's completely overwhelming. Though there are obviously omissions and slight alterations to the narrative, there are few films that so perfectly replicate the experience of reading the book as NEVER LET ME GO. They both evoke a similar melancholy in asking the reader/viewer to consider life's brevity, and how we tend to accumulate more regrets than triumphs. Though quite different aesthetically, the emotional effect is not unlike watching an Ozu film - in fact, while I've no problem with Kathy's final voiceover (some critics are complaining, but how is this stating of the theme different from Scout spelling out the message of TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD?), Garland could've easily swapped out the epilogue of Ishiguro's novel for Setsuko Hara's sad summation from TOKYO STORY. "Isn't life disappointing?" It is. But there is hope in the idea that we find comfort in other people. Briefly. Until they're gone. Faithfully submitted, Mr. Beaks

*A different version than the one by Curtis Mayfield. Written by legendary songwriter Luther Dixon, Jane Monheit performs it for the soundtrack. The only previous recording of this song I've heard is by Lloyd Price. It's lovely.