Bland and unromantic, We Live In Time wastes it

At the very least, the weepy romance drama We Live In Time gives credence to the idea that infamous indie boutique A24 isn’t necessarily interested in being consistent. A24 can peddle in arthouse horror, daring epics, and surrealist comedies, and also dull, insipid, cancer-stricken love stories that might otherwise have had a lengthy shelf life on the Lifetime Channel. Still, with the clout of its label, the top billing of Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield, and the director of the Academy Award-nominated Brooklyn, We Live In Time at least boasts the potential for something unique and interesting. We Live In Time has a lot going for it to give the benefit of the doubt, but it’s exactly what you might fear it would be.

We Live In Time is an unimaginative and weirdly regressive story about two young people who fall in love and start a family before one of them succumbs to cancer. If that sounds like any number of plotlines found on cable TV, well, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. There’s a healthy market out there for a digestible, doomed love story starring two extremely popular, extremely attractive actors—two English actors, to boot, whose stateside success has rarely given them much chance to act in their native accent. There’s absolutely an audience who wants their emotions manipulated in an uncomplicated manner by two beautiful people being sad and in love and British; and who can deny them that simple pleasure?

Maybe audiences should ask for more, but “more” is certainly not being given to them, not in the story of Tobias (Garfield) and Almut (Pugh—Almut??), which unfolds in a derivative non-linear narrative. In the present, the unmarried couple with a young daughter learn that Almut’s ovarian cancer has returned. Almut, a chef and restaurateur, requests that she not be forced to waste a year of her life on grueling treatments only to die anyway. She’d rather opt out entirely if the initial treatments don’t work and have an amazing final few months instead.

A deceptively cogent decision, the film doesn’t even really give her that. But We Live In Time doesn’t give Almut very much of anything. Written by playwright Nick Payne (Wanderlust) and shockingly not based on any Colleen Hoover novel, Almut meets Weetabix employee Tobias in a situation that is decidedly not cute. Reeling from his impending divorce, Tobias listlessly hits the road by foot in nothing but a bathrobe and is accidentally pancaked by Almut’s car. Bloodied and bruised, Tobias sees that it was a pretty girl who injured him to the point of hospitalization, so the two go out for milkshakes while Tobias’ neck is still cradled in a comically large brace. Sparks fly, but Almut is respectful of the wedding ring that Tobias still wears until multiple ensuing encounters allow him the courage to shed the past that he’s been holding onto. Tobias and Almut have extremely chaste, unsexy sex, betraying the press tour narrative Pugh and Garfield had concocted that they became simply “too passionate” during filming their intimate scene. This was obviously before post-production added the sterile pop music to back it.

There’s an issue with their courtship, however: Tobias knows he wants children someday, and Almut appears firm that she doesn’t. This stalemate is quite quickly overcome, however, after a blowup argument during the early stages of their dating. Tobias realizes how madly he’s falling for Almut and doesn’t want to ruin it by fearing the future. Almut feels that they’re young, it’s all very soon, and that they should just focus on the present. Curious, then, how quickly the present changes, and how it doesn’t really take much to eventually change Almut’s mind. 

The scene in which she decisively denies wanting children feels a bit too close to the subsequent scene in which her first ovarian cancer diagnosis comes with the option to remove all or part of her ovaries and uterus. Immediately, Almut considers the idea of freezing her eggs so that she can conceive someday. She chooses not to remove all of her internal reproductive parts, which comes with a much greater risk of the cancer returning. Obviously, the decision to render oneself infertile is a burden, and it won’t necessarily weigh the same for each individual faced with making it. But the screenplay plays out like the male writer gave his character an avoidable death sentence for the sole purpose of keeping her as a baby-making factory.

Not long after Almut makes this choice, her first cancer is in remission and suddenly the couple are taking not just pregnancy tests, but fertility treatments. Suddenly, Almut’s entire life becomes wanting children, when not many years must separate these scenes from her initial refusal to grant Tobias’ wish to be a dad. Maybe this would all feel less sudden and strange if the characters were given much more to be than just their external circumstances. It’s ironic that Almut says out loud to Tobias that she doesn’t want to be “someone’s dead fucking mum,” when that’s all she ends up being in her own film. She’s barely a person, just a repository for love, tragedy, and the superficial appearance of careerist strength. If Almut is only defined by her cancer and motherhood, Tobias is actually given less characterization. We hardly know anything about Tobias, aside from the fact that he wants children, loves Almut, has a single dad, and works for Weetabix—incidentally, Almut’s friends affectionately refer to Tobias as “Weetabix.”

But We Live In Time’s worst sin is making its thin characters so damn boring. They’re so likable and sweet, even their flaws are forgivable. Who can’t forgive a baby-faced young man who badly wants to be a father? Who can’t forgive a woman battling cancer while struggling to leave her mark on the world who then forgets to pick her daughter up from school? It’s completely understandable! If it weren’t for Almut’s cancer, their relationship would be perfect. Everything about Tobias and Almut is so easy and sanitized, so positively twee and precious, that they are borderline unbearable to watch—of course Almut gives birth to their daughter during an untimely gas station scene that is so adorable in its sheer spontaneity. The cookie-cutter loveliness of their relationship renders any potential chemistry between Garfield and Pugh impotent. Instead, it’s nails on a chalkboard watching the two actors embody this shallow, stock image romance. If Almut didn’t want to just be someone’s dead mum, I’m sure Tobias doesn’t want to just be the mum’s boyfriend. But We Live In Time doesn’t grant either the courtesy of being real people.

Director: John Crowley
Writer: Nick Payne
Starring: Andrew Garfield, Florence Pugh
Release Date: October 11, 2024