Set in early 1960s Southern California, A Single Man follows George, a middle-aged English professor, as he moves through a single day shaped by grief. Divided in body and mind, the physicality of George’s exterior life is portrayed through dance, while George’s internal monologue is interpreted through song.

In a world loaded with conflict and hostile to perceived minorities, George, and the people around him – friends, students, peers – wonder how to begin again amidst deep personal grief. Beginning at home with George, memory and present moment blur. Jim appears in flashes – tender, unsettling – reminding George of what he’s lost and what endures.

On the freeway, amidst speed and noise, George feels adrift. At college, daily rituals – greetings, tennis, teaching – provide stimulation and structure, but little solace. Encounters with his closest friend, Charley, and the presence of Kenny, an inquisitive student, begin to stir something in him. In the classroom, intellectual exchange gives way to more personal questions. George begins to respond.

Memories surface – quiet domestic moments, physical closeness, the ordinary joy of being with Jim. At the gym, surrounded by movement, George confronts and embraces his aging body and desire. Parallel scenes unfold – Kenny and Lois explore youth and possibility, while Charley also navigates the loss and loneliness that comes with change in her life, in her own way.

Later, at the supermarket and Charley’s home, isolation and companionship alternate. Conversation falters and deepens. Drink blurs the edges. The bar, where George first met Jim, becomes a space of reckoning. There, George and Kenny meet again. Their connection – tentative, electric – hints at renewal.

On the ocean shore, Kenny dives into the surf. George, in uninhibited delight, joins him. The following morning, they find themselves side by side. Whether dream or reality, the moment exudes calm. In the final memory, George begins to let go of the pain of grief, of the sense that things are over.

A Single Man distils Christopher Isherwood’s novel into a poetic meditation on loss, identity and the body. As George drifts between presence and memory, he moves from isolation to the edge of hope, joy and possibility – drawn forward by human contact, desire and the quiet promise of another day.