A cab driver named Rex who has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer drives across the harsh, repetitive Australian outback—spending days in the car, traveling all the way to Darwin—to take advantage of newly passed right-to-die legislation. He is a white man in love with a black woman, which starts as a secret source of painful shame; the social stress and perceived judgment cause him to hurt the one he loves most.

Adapted from a stage play, Last Cab to Darwin makes good use of its new medium with beautifully ugly depictions of Australians. The landscape is impressively, depressingly static—especially for American audiences, who only have to drive a few hundred miles before the landscape shifts dramatically—and the days spent traveling are shaped solely by the eerie man-made additions to the scenery, the pubs he visits, and the company he keeps. He makes a few good friends along the way, including a cute Aboriginal boy who is mysteriously (and probably mistakenly, from a narrative standpoint) replaced by a cute white girl.

Rex's impending demise is the catalyst, pushing the story forward, but it's not the central theme. Whether or not he goes through with euthanasia, he's going to die, so his choices are limited: How is he going to spend his remaining days, and where is he going to take his last breath? Unsurprisingly, as he coughs up larger and larger quantities of blood, his disapproving and racist neighbors matter less to him.

If anything, in the end, the film advocates against right-to-die legislation, not for it, and comfortably (even charmingly) settles on a tired old saying: "Live every day like it's your last."