(Shaun's BFI review re-posted for Never Let Me Go's U.K. release) Kazuo Ishiguro's novel Never Let Me Go has had some lofty praise lavished upon it since its 2005 publication, with many even citing it as among the few classic novels of the new millennium. The film adaptation, helmed by the skilled Mark Romanek (One Hour Photo), is a mostly-good effort, capturing much of the haunting power of the source material, though in its classy restraint it lacks the one thing this film really needs - aching, angst-soaked urgency. Nevertheless, it is a compellingly dialled-down mish-mash of sci-fi and drama narratives, and as expected, benefits from top-notch acting. Taking place in an alternate reality where human life expectancy has reached 100 years of age by the late-1960s, Never Let Me Go begins in a prestigious boarding school called Hailsham in the 1970s, focusing on the lives of three pupils, Kathy (Carey Mulligan), Tommy (Andrew Garfield) and Ruth (Keira Knightley). Aware that they are "special", the disturbing nature of their existence slowly unravels itself to them over several decades, as they learn how they came to be and what their ultimate purpose is. The revelations place a massive strain on the trio's personal lives, as they must come to terms with the enormity of their stations in life, leading to a dark inevitability unless love can conquer it. Such a cryptic synopsis is required when a mystery is wound as tight as the one here. While it is little secret that the story spins an unusual science fiction twist on the protoptyical British coming-of-age story, Ishiguro (who also wrote the film's screenplay) dares to unravel his mystery gradually, focusing more on character than incident for the most part. That ever-so-English whimsy dictated by the opening act - of a gorgeously shot drama unfolding at a high-flying boarding school - is undercut by the innate creepiness of the situation; the pupils are tagged and must "touch-in" periodically, while also being forbidden from leaving the school's grounds even an inch. Rather than making an overblown gimmick out of the sci-fi gloss, Ishiguro chooses to focus on childhood anguish and classroom antics at great length. Thus, by the time the truth begins to emerge, it is even more disconcerting and unmistakably efficient in disrupting the stereotypical period-piece tone and aesthetic we now come to expect from British cinema. Equally alienating is the fact that the three leads don't show up until the half-hour mark (instead making good use of childhood counterparts), as the kids begin the second-phase of their lives, whereby they display few notions of social etiquette, cultural awareness or even sexual awareness. Thankfully, Ishiguro is smart enough to dress the film in a very occasional bout of well-placed humour, making light of the kids' (now as teens) inability to even order a meal at a diner. The film's bleak final phase offers up its share of disturbing sights, though oddly also relies on a distracting beat of convenience, as one character serendipitously notices another on a computer monitor (rather lazily written for such a classily composed piece). Nevertheless, the film is still full of potent vagaries right up to the end, holding its cards close and then seemingly throwing them up into the air in affray. There is the grim inevitability that has been mostly shrouded to this point, and it is dealt with well in the third act, resolving neither to exploitation nor to overly tasteful cutting away. The real kicker, however, is the tense epilogue in which everything is to be played for, arriving at a few more disturbing truths, anchored by Rachel Portman's haunting, wonderful score. It is a film almost unremittingly hopeless in its cruel finality, packing a crucial emotional punch, ending with a chilling monologue that reminds us of the tale's universality, which is more than its sci-fi sheen would initially have you think. The key to the film's success is in its performances rather than its minimalist, unassuming screenplay. Keira Knightley is solid as Ruth, and Andrew Garfield proves himself a master of the British accent (likely owed to his dual UK-US citizenship), though the only winner is Carey Mulligan; the mortifying level of anxiety and heartbreak that she conveys with facial expression alone is staggering. In supporting roles, Sally Hawkins does well as Miss Lucy, a new teacher at Hailsham baffled by all of the shady goings on, and Charlotte Rampling is also very good as the ambiguous headteacher of Hailsham, Miss Emily. The problem with the film, inevitably, is that it is hard to lose yourself in characters who will not help themselves; never once do these kids even posit the nature of attempting to flee, and though this might have risked delineating things into an action film, it at least would have demonstrated a little more passion to survive on their part, confused and disorientated though they understandably are. Also, it is a leap to believe that Sally Hawkins' Miss Lucy would ever be allowed into an environment like Hailsham if she seemed so incredulous and threatening to the supposed utopia from the outset. The disturbing power of the story speaks for itself here thanks to the luscious cinematography, stirring score and wonderful performances, but the ramshackle, go-for-broke intensity required to heighten the dramatic tension is sorely missed. Though Romanek evidently wishes to dice the rural Brit-drama formula up a bit, he plays it safe rather than reaching for something truer, and no doubt a lot messier than what we see here. Never Let Me Go is released in the U.K. today.