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The Unconventional Romance

The Unusual Premise of We Live in Time and Its Portrayal of Love

According to its star, Florence Pugh, We Live in Time is about “the simplest of things, which is that we are here, I personally believe, for one reason only: to love and be loved.” This is the movie previously best known for a bugged-out carousel horse from a viral promo photo of Pugh and her co-star Andrew Garfield canoodling in the midst of equine doofiness. Well, I have now seen this simplest of romances, and I am here to tell you it’ll soon be known for something else: a totally bonkers premise that is destined to be a signpost of terminal heterosexuality. Let me just tell you what happens (ahem, spoilers ahead).

Director John Crowley’s rom-dramedy traces the relationship between its principal characters, Brits Almut (Pugh) and Tobias (Garfield), from start to tragic end, albeit out of order. Three distinct timelines representing various phases of the relationship are braided to give you the impression that the story is more complicated than it is. Focused on Almut’s perspective, We Live in Time stages a tug-of-war between a modern sensibility necessary to make this thing pop and the traditionalism that could make it, in Pugh’s estimation, “one of those movies that will matter to a lot of people, and will live for a long time.” In other words, a new-school classic with many old-school tendencies.

A Modern Take on Traditionalism

Almut is a modern gal—the kind who keeps condoms in a bedside drawer (“Such low expectations,” she says after Tobias confesses that he doesn’t have one on him) and is devoted to her career as a chef of Anglo-Bavarian cuisine. Soon after meeting, Almut tells Tobias that kids aren’t really her thing. But they are his thing, and he ignores her words for just a few weeks before circling back on the matter, which leads to the kind of monumental declaration of love that movies that live for a long time tend to have: “I’m worried there’s a very distinct and real possibility that I am about to fall in love with you,” he says. Almut’s having none of it. Her reaction is belligerently dismissive when he broaches the kids conversation (“I’m sorry, but what the actual fuck are you even talking about right now?”), and stays that way even after he’s offered his heart. She’s not interested in making that kind of a promise: “And in fact there’s a little bit of me that thinks ‘fuck you’ for even asking.”

But Almut can resist the gravitational pull of heteronormativity only for so long. When she is soon diagnosed with cancer, she has the option of a partial or full hysterectomy. The full hysterectomy comes with less risk of recurrence (and a lower risk of, you know, death). Yet she chooses the former, reasoning, “Just because in a general sense I never saw myself having kids doesn’t mean that there isn’t a world where I couldn’t see myself in time deciding to have them with you.” This is framed as her choice (progressive!), but it’s just one example of how Nick Payne’s screenplay guides the slightly unruly Almut back to the center, no matter the cost. We Live in Time simply couldn’t justify its own existence as a tearjerker if Almut didn’t die in the end, and so it’s no surprise that she does have a kid after taking the risk, and then she ends up being diagnosed with Stage 3 ovarian cancer after she’s given birth. Her decision gave one life and will take another: hers.

This is a movie that is designed to not protect the life of the mother. After that second diagnosis—which is revealed early in a film that never stops hopping around in time—Almut and Tobias have a heart-to-heart in which she declares that she’s “not particularly interested in a treatment plan that accidentally wastes our time,” and would rather opt for “six fucking amazing, fantastic, proactive months than 12 really, really shitty passive ones.” Because it comes so early in the movie, this seems to be the announcement of its premise: Seize the day! Don’t let imminent death stop you from living your best life! Having seen the film, it’s clear that We Live in Time is a story that blends modern sensibilities with traditional romantic ideals, creating a narrative that resonates with both contemporary and classic storytelling elements.

The Tangled Web of Timelines

Non-Linear Storytelling

One of the most striking aspects of We Live in Time is its non-linear storytelling. The film’s narrative is divided into three distinct timelines, each representing a different phase of Almut and Tobias’s relationship. This structure not only adds depth to the story but also keeps the audience engaged by constantly shifting perspectives and timelines.

This narrative technique is not new in cinema, but We Live in Time uses it to powerful effect. By interweaving different periods of the couple’s relationship, the film creates a sense of immediacy and urgency. The audience is constantly reminded of the fleeting nature of love and life, which adds a layer of emotional depth to the story.

For example, the opening scene of the film jumps straight into the future, showing Almut and Tobias in the midst of a significant crisis. This sudden plunge into the heart of the conflict immediately invests the audience in the characters’ lives. The subsequent flashes back and forth between different timelines help to build a comprehensive picture of the relationship, revealing how Almut and Tobias got to this point.

The non-linear structure also allows for a more nuanced exploration of the characters’ emotions and decisions. By seeing different moments in their relationship out of order, the audience gains insight into how past events shape present actions. This technique is particularly effective in highlighting the emotional arc of Almut’s character, who evolves significantly from a career-driven, relationship-averse woman to someone deeply in love and willing to make sacrifices for her family.

Director John Crowley and writer Nick Payne have crafted a narrative that is both complex and accessible. The use of non-linear storytelling is not just a gimmick but a deliberate choice to enhance the emotional impact of the story. By jumping between timelines, the film creates a sense of tension and anticipation, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats.

Moreover, the non-linear structure allows for a more organic exploration of the themes of love, loss, and the passage of time. The film’s central message—that life is short and love is fleeting—is reinforced by the way the narrative jumps around, emphasizing the importance of living in the moment and cherishing the time we have with loved ones.

In conclusion, We Live in Time is a masterclass in non-linear storytelling. By braiding three distinct timelines, the film creates a rich and engaging narrative that keeps the audience invested from start to finish. The use of this technique not only adds depth to the story but also amplifies its emotional impact, making it a standout film in the realm of romantic dramas.

Almut’s Perspective: Shaping the Relationship’s Narrative

Director John Crowley and screenwriter Nick Payne’s “We Live in Time” pivots significantly on the perspective of Almut, played by Florence Pugh. This narrative choice is pivotal, as it allows viewers to intimately experience the inner workings and evolution of Almut’s relationship with Tobias, portrayed by Andrew Garfield. By focusing on Almut’s point of view, the film effectively captures the complexities and nuances of her character’s emotional journey, providing a rich, layered portrayal of her transformation from a career-driven, independent woman to someone deeply entangled in the conventions of traditional romance and family life.

Modern Sensibility and Traditionalism

The film’s narrative structure, which braids together three distinct timelines, highlights Almut’s internal struggle between her modern sensibilities and the traditional expectations of her relationship. Her initial resistance to the idea of having children with Tobias is emblematic of her desire for autonomy and her career-focused lifestyle. This resistance is a significant aspect of her character’s identity, reflecting a generation that prioritizes personal and professional fulfillment over conventional family obligations.

However, as the story unfolds, Almut’s perspective shifts, influenced by her deepening connection with Tobias and her eventual diagnosis with cancer. Here, the storyline takes a dramatic turn, with Almut’s capitulation to Tobias’ desire for children becoming a pivotal moment. This shift is not only a testament to the power of love but also a poignant reflection on the societal pressures that compel individuals to conform to traditional norms.

The Weight of Heteronormativity

Resisting Societal Pressure

One of the central themes in “We Live in Time” is Almut’s initial resistance to the societal pressure that Tobias, and by extension, the audience, imposes on her. In the early stages of their relationship, Almut is clear about her stance on having children, indicating a lack of interest in starting a family. This initial resistance is a critical aspect of her character’s autonomy, showcasing her desire to maintain control over her personal and professional life.

However, this resistance is short-lived. As the relationship deepens, the pressure to conform to traditional relationship milestones becomes more pronounced. This is most evident in Tobias’ persistent requests for Almut to reconsider her stance on having children, highlighting the pervasive influence of societal norms. Despite her initial reservations, Almut eventually agrees to undergo a partial hysterectomy to preserve her fertility, a decision that underscores the film’s exploration of the weight of heteronormativity and the sacrifices individuals make to align with societal expectations.

The Cost of Conformity

Almut’s decision to prioritize Tobias’ desires over her own autonomy has profound and devastating consequences. The partial hysterectomy, performed to accommodate Tobias’ wish for a child, becomes a poignant symbol of the cost of conformity. This choice, made in the hope of securing a future with Tobias, ultimately sets the stage for Almut’s later diagnosis with Stage 3 ovarian cancer. This turn of events is both a narrative device and a commentary on the sacrifices individuals make to fit into societal molds, particularly within the context of romantic relationships.

The film’s portrayal of this decision and its consequences raises questions about the autonomy of individuals within intimate relationships and the broader societal pressures that influence personal choices. Almut’s journey is a stark reminder of the sacrifices often made in the name of love and the long-term repercussions these choices may have on one’s life and health.

The Tearjerker Twist

The Inevitable Tragedy

The premise of “We Live in Time” is built on a narrative that is both tragic and predictable. Almut’s eventual demise is not just a plot point but a core element of the film’s identity as a tearjerker. The film’s structure, which unfolds out of chronological order, serves to heighten the emotional impact of this inevitability. By revealing Almut’s eventual fate early on, the film sets the stage for a poignant and bittersweet exploration of love, loss, and the fleeting nature of life.

The interwoven timelines and the focus on Almut’s perspective create a narrative that is both intimate and expansive. This structure allows the audience to experience the buildup to the tragic end and the emotional depth of Almut’s journey. The film’s decision to center on Almut’s perspective ensures that the audience is fully immersed in her emotional state, making the eventual tragedy more impactful and relatable.

The Emotional Manipulation

One of the most contentious aspects of “We Live in Time” is its use of Almut’s cancer diagnosis as a plot device. Critics and audiences alike have debated the film’s approach to emotional manipulation, with many questioning the ethical implications of using a character’s illness and eventual death to elicit emotional responses from the audience. Almut’s cancer diagnosis and subsequent death serve as the backbone of the film’s narrative, driving the relationship’s progression and the emotional climax of the story.

The use of Almut’s illness as a catalyst for her emotional and personal transformation is a powerful but controversial narrative choice. It raises questions about the extent to which films should exploit illness and death for emotional impact, especially when these elements are central to the plot’s resolution. The film’s narrative hinges on this emotional manipulation, which, while effective in evoking a strong emotional response, also risks reducing the complexity of its central themes to a formulaic, albeit powerful, device for eliciting tears.