We Live in Time: an eminently watchable but contrived weepie

For all its narrative’s temporal hopscotching, We Live in Time clearly knows its designated time, and place, in cinematic weepie lineage. If many Golden Age Hollywood melodramas – Casablanca (1942), Now, Voyager (1942), Magnificent Obsession (1954), for example – didn’t kill off one of their star-cross’d lovers, later tragic romances, perhaps inspired by the 1970 smash Love Story’s terminal illness plotline, regularly opted for more finality. In its wake, Ghost (1990), Titanic (1997), The Notebook (2004), Brokeback Mountain (2005) et al, all clearly showed that love (and audience appeal), in the words of the Ryan O’Neal/Ali Mc Graw hit, means never having to say you’re sorry and that one or both parties won’t survive to the end credits. 

And so, early on in John Crowley’s contemporary, London-set romance, we learn that rising chef Almut (Florence Pugh) has been diagnosed with returning ovarian cancer, now at a life-threatening Stage 3. And that, despite the young daughter Ella she shares with mild-mannered, devoted husband Tobias (Andrew Garfield), she’s inclined to forego the arduous (and perhaps ineffective) chemotherapy treatment, to instead make the most of her remaining days. That much of this will be devoted to taking part in a European gastronomy competition – something she hides – becomes the story’s one ticking clock (or oven timer?) element as we countdown to the inevitable. It takes her away from both Tobias and Ella but bizarrely, doesn’t cause much suspicion. 

The rest of We Live in Time is dedicated to charting the ups and downs Almut and Tobias’s decade-long love affair from beginning to end, but rarely in that order. The initial crash-cute, when she runs him down in her car, occurs only after the cancer diagnosis; divorcé Tobias is shown living with his dad well after we’ve seen his and Almut’s gorgeous country cottage, and so on.  

This gambit is not particularly confusing, aside from an early scene with Tobias’s divorce papers (from a previous marriage we gradually learn). However, it’s not especially resonant either, often appearing oddly random and, at worst, undermining certain conflicts. It’s hard to get too caught up in the couple’s bitter arguments over having children having already met their kid. 

It’s all the more frustrating when one remembers screenwriter Nick Payne’s earlier 2012 play Constellations, with its multiverse-like conceit, and how the fractured, quicksilver reconfiguring of timelines in a relationship underpinned and enhanced that work with a light, yet profound, touch. It’s a relief that Crowley’s earlier, superior Irish émigré tale Brooklyn (2015) wasn’t submitted to We Live in Time’s achronological approach as Saoirse Ronan moved back-and-forth across two continents. 

That this film remains eminently watchable, and, ultimately, disarming to all but the most hardened hearts, is largely due to Pugh, and Garfield (here reteaming with Crowley after their 2007 breakthrough, Boy A). Both actors are Marvel heroes, Oscar-nominees and homegrown stars big enough to anchor the story’s more fanciful contrivances. But they’re also both relatable and recognisably down-to-earth enough to picture doing such everyday British dating activities as larking about a south London fairground or sharing Jaffa Cakes in the bath. 

The mutual chemistry is there from the beginning, and Crowley wisely keeps the camera close on their highly expressive faces: Garfield’s plaintive eyes and Pugh’s sardonically raised eyebrows and pursed-lip defiance feature heavily. She gets by far the bigger range of emotional range and backstory – before becoming a chef, Almut used to be a competitive figure skater – and Pugh clearly relishes playing her character’s calculated decision to prioritise personal ambitions over precious family time. Garfield’s non-romantic life, meanwhile, is largely reduced to gags about being a Weetabix data cruncher.  

Still, when they’re onscreen together, their connection elicits the kind of intangible screen magic to help sell a ludicrous, if genuinely amusing, set piece like going into labour in a service station lavatory; or lend unearned depth to pedestrian montages set to British indie artists like Villagers or Wolf Alice with dismayingly on-the-nose lyrics.  

But what Pugh and Garfield’s best efforts cannot do, and in fact the entire project seems to intrinsically rail against, is anchor Almut and Tobias in real time, real life. It all feels too constructed, from its sitcom-style pile-up of converging climaxes to Bryce Dessner’s overtly manipulative score. While We Live in Time’s carpe diem affirmation and tear-jerking slickness will likely satisfy enough genre devotees, one can’t help mourn the loss of a rawer, more authentic love story, presumably existing in another constellation entirely. 

 ► We Live in Time screened at the BFI London Film Festival will arrive in UK cinemas 1 January 2025.