Reviewed on November 9th at the 2024 Cork International Film Festival – World Tour. 107 Mins
Cast: Florence Pugh, Andrew Garfield, Marama Corlett, Adam James
Genre: Drama, Romance
Director:Â John Crowley
In Irish Cinemas: 1st January 2025
It may not be a universally acknowledged truth, but one of life’s subtle pleasures, at least for me, lies in being thoroughly undone by a seemingly ordinary British weepy. In the hands of a skilled director, a pair of accomplished actors, lush cinematography, and just the correct dose of stiff-upper-lip despair can combine to create a film capable of unlocking your tear ducts with surgical precision. In that respect, We Live in Time feels like director John Crowley’s (Brooklyn) answer to There Will Be Blood. Not because it savours emotional depletion with the zeal of Daniel Plainview but because it distils the bittersweet essence of its genre: using heartbreak and fleeting joy to remind us how achingly beautiful life can be, especially when it denies us the love we long to hold onto.
This particular brand of cinematic catharsis—epitomised by classics like Brief Encounter—has found modern heirs in films such as One Day and Atonement, not to mention Harold Pinter’s Betrayal. Like those predecessors, We Live in Time plays with the chronology of its love story to compress the gap between bliss and heartbreak, leaving the audience suspended in the tension of their interconnection. While Nick Payne’s screenplay doesn’t revolutionise this trope—and only employs its nonlinear structure when it’s narratively convenient—it uses the device effectively to heighten the film’s emotional restraint. That restraint, paradoxically, is what grips the audience so powerfully, wrapping its gentle hands firmly around our throats from the opening scene.
We first meet Almut (Florence Pugh) and Tobias (Andrew Garfield) in the golden glow of their love’s happiest moments. Almut is a Michelin-starred chef who wakes at dawn to crack eggs and take brisk jogs through the picturesque Cotswolds, embodying a kind of effortless perfection. Meanwhile, Tobias works a middling job at Weetabix, though his professional life remains irrelevant to a story that primarily requires him to weep attractively. Together, they create an idyllic portrait of intimacy and affection that will inevitably fracture as the film pulls us through its tender, time-twisting exploration of love and loss.
We are merely fleeting travellers through this pristine moment in time, where the swift cut of a film reel can propel us backwards or forward in the blink of an eye. One moment, a heavily pregnant Almut sits on the toilet of their London apartment, breathing steadily through her contractions. The next, she and Tobias are seated in a sterile doctor’s office, facing an oncologist who delivers the devastating news: Alma’s stage 3 ovarian cancer has returned with a vengeance. In one frame, the couple plays joyfully with their young daughter; in the next, the scene jumps to years before her birth. While the film’s latter half settles into a relatively stable “present,” it still unfolds like a scrapbook of memories — pieced together not as life was lived but as it is recalled, fragmented and vivid.
However, Payne’s screenplay only partially commits to this fragmented structure. The opening scenes suggest a whirlwind journey through time, where we leap across years with abandon. Yet, before long, We Live in Time finds footing in a more conventional, chronological rhythm typical of love stories. The narrative then skips around selectively, either to mirror emotional parallels between different moments or to juxtapose the highs and lows of a relationship — where the joy of one choice often plants the seeds of another’s heartbreak. Visual cues, such as the length of Florence Pugh’s bangs, subtly signal where we are in time, reorienting us with each shift.
The film dives into the couple’s meet-cute and budding romance with the playful charm of a Richard Curtis rom-com. She’s an ambitious, high-achieving powerhouse barreling down the road to success. At the same time, he’s a lovable, bumbling everyman who stumbles into her life after being hit by her car — while crossing the street in a hotel bathrobe. From the start, their connection feels electric, with Pugh and Garfield sharing a delightful chemistry that crackles and sparks, heightened by the occasional addition of a soulful track from The xx.
Unlike many of its genre peers, We Live in Time weaves intimacy and sexuality into its core, making these moments not just expressions of love but pivotal points of reflection. Sex becomes a vehicle for some of the most crucial conversations in the film, anchoring the characters as they confront the relentless future bearing down upon them. While the movie doesn’t stray far into explicit territory, it dares to let these scenes breathe, allowing them to become essential threads in the tapestry of a love story marked by both tenderness and tragedy.
In one poignant scene, Al and Tobias decide to seize intimacy before Al’s impending chemotherapy robs them of the chance. In another, a seemingly romantic date night takes an abrupt turn when Tobias confesses that he can’t allow himself to fall in love with someone who doesn’t share his desire for children. These moments lay the foundation for a film deeply rooted in the tension between two opposing forces: the desire to live fully in the present versus the need to plan for an uncertain future. The film’s emotional power emerges from its delicate exploration of this false dichotomy, revealing the interconnectedness of these choices rather than their opposition.
At its most moving, We Live in Time forces its characters to confront their relationship with time itself, compelling them to reconcile their dreams with the reality of their fleeting existence. Florence Pugh delivers a mesmerising performance as Al, channelling the raw vulnerability and defiant strength of a woman grappling with a terminal illness. Her husky and melodic voice becomes an instrument of profound emotional depth, especially as she embraces experiences like competing in an intense culinary showdown during her chemotherapy treatments.
While given a less dynamic role, Andrew Garfield shines as Tobias, the tender yet pragmatic partner whose love for Al drives him to advocate for a future that feels increasingly fragile. Garfield’s nuanced portrayal of Tobias as a man torn between his ideals and his emotions lends the character depth and sincerity. Together, Pugh and Garfield embody the film’s central dilemma with authenticity and passion, their chemistry anchoring a story that dares to ask whether the heart can genuinely reconcile living for today with planning for tomorrow.
Ultimately, We Live in Time rises above the formulaic constraints of its structure, guiding its characters toward an unspoken yet deeply resonant compromise. While there’s a certain eye-rolling inevitability to how Payne orchestrates the film’s emotional climax—stacking two pivotal life events on the same day as a heavy-handed metaphor for time’s relentless grip—it nevertheless achieves an emotional poignancy that is hard to deny. It’s profoundly moving to witness Al begin to think beyond the present, imagining the legacy of memories she hopes to leave for her daughter. This sentiment, so universally understood by parents regardless of circumstance, contrasts sharply with the bittersweet sorrow of watching Tobias surrender the promise of tomorrow to embrace today fully.
The undeniable truth is that we are bound by time, whether we welcome or resist it. Where a lesser melodrama might hammer home a trite message about seizing the moment, Crowley’s film offers something more nuanced and affecting. It acknowledges the duality of our existence: the cruel inevitability of looking ahead and the immeasurable gift of looking back. Driven by a deceptively simple yet powerfully manipulative narrative—and underscored by Bryce Dessner’s evocative score, which swells with such intensity it seems to bruise the heart—We Live in Time captures the inextricable link between memory, hope, and the fleeting beauty of the present. It reminds us that even as we wrestle with tomorrow’s burdens, cherishing the past remains one of life’s most profound blessings.
Overall: 7.5/10
Movie Reviewer
