Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield flourish in their naturalistic roles and native accents as Almut and Tobias in John Crowley’s We Live in Time — a sentimental, time-hopping romantic drama that spans a decade. When faced with an aggressive return of Almut’s cancer, the couple grapple with the question of how to spend their precious and potentially limited time together, which manifests itself as a conflict defined by the troubling dilemma of prioritising personal ambition or parenthood — and which one leaves behind a greater legacy.
Both perspectives were frustratingly under-explored, touching little beyond their occupations (accomplished chef and Weetabix representative). Given the tragedy and far-reaching impacts of terminal illness, the film opts for a strangely insular approach that neglects significant screen time of extended family. While Almut and Tobias tackle the difficulty of explaining cancer and loss to their young daughter, Ella (Grace Delaney), these scenes feel surface-level and abruptly cut short. Exploring how children experience and understand grief was a missed opportunity to elevate the emotional stakes surrounding the family’s shared struggle.
The performances of Pugh and Garfield are brilliant, and much of the film’s emotion is anchored by their longing stares paired with Bryce Dessner’s evocative score—yet not even their natural chemistry can distract audiences from the clumsy dialogue. The film’s nonlinear structure mimics the fragmented way in which we recall time spent with loved ones but inhibits the audience from fully immersing in the story. Instead, we dart between three key timelines while our emotions race to catch up. The constant veering between humour and pathos keeps the film from achieving the emotional depth it aspires to.
We Live in Time is perfect for a misty-eyed evening of understated devastation, but is ultimately unlikely to be remembered as a classic.
“Florence Pugh at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival 3” by Xfranksun is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.