On a recent weekend getaway, your local movie critic found himself with a few free hours in downtown Chicago.

So what does a cinephile do with an open afternoon in an exciting city?

Well, this one looks for theaters showing films that aren’t available online or in Central PA.

In this case, that would include “Living,” an acclaimed 2022 gem that’s been deservedly tapped for a pair of Oscars.

Among the nominees is veteran character actor Bill Nighy, who — despite a resume of more than 70 titles, has virtually never done a lead role. Here, Nighy plays a 1950s-era bureaucrat who does nothing but push around papers and pens in a stuffy London office with about as much excitement as a frozen mud-puddle. Indeed, when the cadaverous “Mr. Williams” suddenly learns that he has advanced cancer, he confesses to a stranger that he’d like to live a little — but he doesn’t know how.

This gentle and beautifully made little film is based on Akira Kurosawa’s 1952 classic “Ikiru,” whose title means “to live.” And like that Japanese masterpiece, “Living” will show its stiffly starched protagonist starting to unbend as he tries first family, then fun, then friendship and finally kindness to give some meaning to his final months.

Never better, Nighy consistently underplays a role that calls for great restraint while also allowing that twinkle-in-the-eye for which this actor is so famous. Also Oscar-nominated is screenwriter Kazuo Ishiguro, whose Nobel-winning novels include “Never Let Me Go” and “Remains of the Day,” both likewise made into absorbing motion pictures.

Ishiguro plays it so low-key that many will find the first hour slow — though that is also true of “Ikiru,” which is 40 minutes longer than this film. But stick with it: During one late café scene between Williams and a young lady-friend, “Living” unleashes an emotional deluge, which thereafter just keeps getting deeper and stronger.

Speaking of which: The actress in that watershed scene — one Aimee Lou Wood, of Netflix’s “Sex Education” — should also have nailed an Oscar nod; she is sensational.

Another of the film’s triumphs is its understated approach to the inherent melodrama of such tropes as terminal illness and the search for meaning. In the latter case, Ishiguro focuses on the small and subtle, stressing that no legacy is spotless or eternal; that it’s best to pick a few good things and do them well; and that for Williams especially, it will be tough to break through to full freedom after so many years of zombie-like existence.

With its careful close-ups, its long silences and its deliberate pace, this film perfectly embodies that wisdom in every lovely frame.