Gay British college professor George Falconer (Colin Firth, left) is consoled by old friend Charley (Julianne Moore) when Falconer's long-time partner dies in A Single Man. (Alliance Films)

A Single Man begins with images of a nude man floating underwater, his muscular, alabaster limbs glowing in the murk until he resembles some sleek, ghostly version of Michelangelo’s David. At once achingly pretty and more than a little pretentious, this montage sets the tone for almost everything that follows.

Director Tom Ford's handling of gay themes is admirable. Though there are no sex scenes in A Single Man, the movie is still surprisingly frank.

In making his directorial debut, renowned fashion designer Tom Ford aims high. Working with screenwriter David Scearce, Ford has adapted Christopher’s Isherwood’s queer 1964 novel with great care. As in the book, the events in A Single Man take place in the autumn of 1962, over the course of one day in the life of a lonely London expat named George Falconer (Colin Firth), who’s now working as an English professor at a Los Angeles college. Still grieving the death of his longtime lover, Jim (Matthew Goode), this single man wakes each morning, stares at his reflection in the mirror, and says, “Just get through the goddamn day.”

Somehow, he does — going through his usual banter with his housekeeper and surprising his complacent students with an impromptu lecture about how “Minorities are just people, people like us.” There’s a mild flirtation with a Spanish rent boy in a parking lot, and another, more serious one with an inquisitive, lost-puppy student named Kenny (About a Boy’s Nicholas Hoult, barely recognizable in an angora sweater). By the time George stops by for dinner at the home of his oldest friend and one-time flame, Charley (Julianne Moore), it’s clear he meant it when he said, “Today is going to be different.” George has cleaned out his office, written letters to the few people who still matter to him and is planning to commit suicide before the night is through.

Ford clearly reveres Isherwood’s novel, and his handling of the book’s gay themes is particularly admirable. Though there are no sex scenes in A Single Man, the movie is still surprisingly frank. In spite of his long-ago fling with Charley, George is gay down to his marrow — when one of his colleagues stops to chat about the Cuban Missile Crisis, George can’t help but steal a glance at the glistening shirtless males playing tennis nearby. But George remains mostly closeted: he grooms himself at length in the morning before he has to go out and appear straight to the outside world. George is painfully aware most people would prefer him to keep his preferences hidden.

This is serious, melancholy stuff, but Isherwood’s book was also filled with dry humour, and George’s 24-hour reflection on his existence ended up being a celebration of all that he loved about life. Ford gets this, but he can’t quite pull it off, in part because he has a weakness for schmaltzy symbols that land onscreen with a thud in the moments the movie should be at its most profound. (Note to aspiring filmmakers: using a shot of an owl taking flight as a metaphor for your protagonist is never a good idea.)

George Falconer (Colin Firth) lingers over a potential romance with a stranger in A Single Man. (Alliance Films)

There is one standout scene in A Single Man that comes close to capturing the spirit of the source material. As George and Charley meet up for a boozy dinner, the two gossip, giggle and fight the way lifelong friends sometimes do. The evening has undercurrents of great sadness, given George’s morbid plans and the fact that Charley is still very much in love with the man she can’t have; but there’s a genuine warmth and connection between this pair that both are starved for. As the characters do a protracted, silly dance to Green Onions, the movie switches gears completely. Ford knows enough to get out of the way and let his actors shine, and Firth and Moore work wonders with this small, life-affirming scene.

But this authenticity is sorely absent from almost everything else in A Single Man. Ford handles the movie’s period detail with the same flair that he used to reserve for his Gucci collections — lingering on vintage cigarette machines, billboards, shag rugs and one character’s Brigitte Bardot eyeliner until your irises might start to bleed from all the glamour. A Single Man has style to burn, but Ford hasn’t yet learned how to be selective and sparing in his use of images; his preoccupation with style often feels stifling and superficial.

It’s up to Firth to give the movie depth, and he proves himself more than up to the task. It’s a remarkably still performance — the kind that ends up being dissected in acting classes because it’s so restrained. A Single Man was an introspective book, and accordingly, Firth relies almost entirely on his face to suggest the world of emotion that simmers behind George’s spiffy suits and horn-rimmed specs. The character’s grief comes through in the slow, weary way he blinks his eyes. Likewise, his lust and joy burbles up in a quick flush across his cheeks. Firth deserves accolades for laying himself bare. Without him, A Single Man would be lifeless — all dressed up with no place to go.

A Single Man opens Dec. 11.

Lee Ferguson writes about the arts for CBC News.