Confronted by finite limitations in an infinite world, We Live in Time (2024) leaves viewers questioning whether chasing legacy is a pursuit worth striving for—or just another way to end up as the richest man in the graveyard.
We’ll never experience everything we want. We understand we’re limited to the confines of very finite parameters—we can’t read every book ever written, watch every film made, visit every single country, or know everything. There simply isn’t enough time in our lives, trapped in these bodies of ours.
This sentiment of ever-fleetingness and inescapable ends—known as onism—is echoed in the unconventional modern love story displayed in John Crowley’s new film, We Live in Time. The film is an enthralling consideration of memory, life, and loss, but has a number of fatal flaws and by no means scored a spot on my Letterboxd top four.
Earnest and sentimental, Almut, played by Florence Pugh, and Tobias, played by Andrew Garfield, are forced into a tough spot on of Almut’s late-stage cancer diagnosis. This prompts the couple to have difficult conversations about parenthood, the pros and cons of all-consuming medical treatment, the pragmatism of laborious careers, and lingering legacies after death. It follows their relationship over the course of a decade, using non-linear storytelling and an abundance of sex scenes.
On paper, We Live in Time has everything I would ever want—a slice-of-life romance that promises to be a gut-punching tear-jerker, driven by two charismatic Brits with undeniable chemistry. In execution, however, it fell short of the excitement that precedes it.
Instead of leaning into the raw complexity of their shared struggle, the narrative chose aesthetic sentimentality over substance. The film felt hesitant to villainize and thoroughly explore deep-seated flaws in both Pugh and Garfield’s characters, pas the opportunity to fully explore their growth, leaving audiences without a well-rounded perception of the characters as grieving, emotional, and authentic individuals experiencing something earth-shattering.
Pugh and Garfield are brilliant, but we don’t get the chance to really know Almut and Tobias.
In a heated argument, Almut professes she doesn’t want her legacy confined to merely that of someone’s dead mother, fearing she’ll be forgotten when her time on Earth is up. As the words escaped her lips, my heartstrings tugged.
My personal takeaway from the film suddenly came through loud and clear: don’t fall into the trap of wasting your legacy to become the richest man in the graveyard. We’re all here, I think, to love and be loved—that’s all.
At its core, the film’s a call to prioritize relationships over shallow markers of success, cautioning against the disingenuous pursuit of legacy at the expense of more profound connections and a life lived with intention. We’re all to be forgotten eventually—it’s what you do with the people around you in your living days that counts.
Despite the incredibly profound undercurrents, We Live in Time felt like it only dipped its toes into this thematic exploration. While the non-verbal aspects of Pugh and Garfield’s performances are remarkable, several sub-plots felt particularly under-developed, lacking the satisfying full-circle effect I was hoping to see.
Ultimately, We Live in Time serves as a reminder life is short and messy, and the relentless pursuit of perfection—whether in careers, relationships, or legacy—is a flawed endeavour. It urges us to confront mortality and not shy away from the uncomfortable conversations about loss, love, time and memory, and what remains of it all when we’re gone.
Perhaps, in its refusal to give easy answers or wrap up the many loose ends of Almut and Tobias’s story, We Live in Time aimed to mirror the chaos and unpredictability of real life. Still, it left me grappling with the lingering question: is it better to have tried to say something meaningful and fallen short, or to have settled for saying little at all?
Though the film didn’t earn a place on my all-time favourites list, it did provoke reflection on the trap of wishing for more—more time, more achievements, more success, more love, more life.
For a film particularly enthralled with legacies, Almut’s own remembrance feels frustratingly incomplete. As the person I saw the movie with remarked as we left the theatre, it’s unclear if We Live in Time really earned its ending.
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