You’ve probably seen the video of an elderly man discovering on live British television that he is surrounded by the now-adult Holocaust survivors he rescued as children. That gentleman was Sir Nicholas Winton, a London stockbroker who moonlighted as a humanitarian to save 669 children from Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia. His remarkable deeds earned him the moniker of “British Schindler” and even royal knighthood.
This extraordinary tale is captured in One Life, anchored by a masterly, nuanced performance by the legendary Anthony Hopkins. Directed by James Hawes, the film premiered at the Toronto Film Festival last September and received critical acclaim upon its release in Europe earlier this year. With its American debut, it is poised to captivate a broader audience.
Hawes’s television background outside the Hollywood studio system is palpable throughout One Life. There’s no shoe-horning of characters to satisfy marketing demands, no winking at contemporary controversies, or succumbing to overindulgent visual spectacles. Like a master chef who understands that the finest cuts of meat require little seasoning, Hawes employs a simple yet sincere approach to storytelling. His method evokes the finest traditions of classic cinema, spotlighting the heroism of its subject without stylistic flourishes that detract from the narrative’s heart.
One Life weaves together parallel stories set 50 years apart, beginning in the late 1980s — before the BBC highlighted Winton’s story — when his wife, Grete (Lena Olin in a measured portrayal), urges him to organize their home ahead of a family gathering. Amid his life’s memorabilia and haunting memories, an old suitcase transports us to Europe on the brink of World War II. Here, we meet Winton’s 29-year-old self (Johnny Flynn complementing Hopkins with finesse). His mission to Prague, under the British Committee for Refugees from Czechoslovakia following the Munich Accords, leads to a refugee camp filled with families and orphans shivering under the looming shadow of Hitler’s march.
Horrified by what he has witnessed, Winton seeks permission from a local rabbi to transport the children to England. In a revealing exchange, the rabbi, naturally concerned about the fate of Jewish children, questions Winton’s motives. Here we discover that Winton descended from Jewish German immigrants who moved to the U.K. in 1907 and converted to Christianity. This detail enriches the narrative while underscoring Winton’s deep sense of empathy and duty.
Through its restrained storytelling, the film artfully assembles a series of puzzle pieces that, collectively, render a compelling portrait of courage and humanity. In another memorable scene, Winton’s mother, Babette (Helena Bonham Carter), persuades a hesitant immigration official to issue the initial batch of visas for the children. Her appeal to the intrinsic decency of the British people, which she personally experienced as an immigrant, secures a brighter future for these children while highlighting one of the film’s overarching themes: the power of compassion to transcend rigid bureaucracies.
Alongside screenwriters Lucinda Coxon and Nick Drake, Hawes elegantly intertwines these vignettes of personal history and ethical choices, crafting a narrative that does more than recount Winton’s remarkable journey. Free of pious moralizing, One Life delicately invites us to contemplate our own North Star.
Though the film may sometimes feel tonally uneven as it shifts between Winton’s race against time in the 1930s and seemingly mundane tasks 50 years later, the contrast offers a poignant reminder of ordinary people’s inherent potential for good with the right priorities. The film’s minimalist aesthetic, characterized by its straightforward cinematography and score, mirrors Winton’s humility — offering a timely counterpoint to the fame-obsessed culture of social media, where superficial gestures offer poor substitutes to genuine impact.
One Life should humble us all. Though few will ever accomplish even a fraction of what Winton achieved over his 106 years, the film reminds us to try. Its very name, a nod to Talmudic wisdom, inspires us to make the most of our fleeting moments.
As the credits roll, a profound sense of gratitude for Sir Nicholas Winton’s lasting legacy washes over us — and for the exceptional talent of his fellow knight who brought it to life.