According to its star, Florence Pugh, We live in time is about “the simplest thing of all, which is that, I personally believe, we are here for one reason only: to love and be loved.” This is the film that has so far been best known for a broken carousel horse, which can be seen in a viral promotional photo of Pugh and her co-star Andrew Garfield smooching amidst the horse silliness. Well, I’ve now seen this simplest of romances, and I’m here to tell you that it will soon be known for something else: a completely insane premise destined to be a signpost for terminal heterosexuality.

Let me just tell you what happens (HmSpoilers ahead). In his romantic drama, director John Crowley traces the relationship between his main characters, the Brits Almut (Pugh) and Tobias (Garfield), from the beginning to the tragic end, albeit out of sequence. Three different timelines, representing different phases of the relationship, are intertwined to give the impression that the story is more complicated than it is. Focuses on Almut’s perspective, We live in time Stages a tug-of-war between a modern sensibility necessary to make this thing a success and the traditionalism that, in Pugh’s estimation, could make it “one of those films that will have meaning for a lot of people and will live a long time.” “ .” In other words, a new-school classic with a lot of old-school tendencies.

Almut is a modern girl – the kind who keeps condoms in a bedside drawer (“Such low expectations,” she says after Tobias confesses he doesn’t carry one) and is committed to her career as a chef in Anglo-Bavarian cuisine . Shortly after the meeting, Almut tells Tobias that children are not her thing. But her Are his thing, and he ignores her words for just a few weeks before getting back to it, which leads to the kind of monumental declaration of love that long-term films usually have: “I’m worried, that there is a very big declaration of love.” “There is a distinct and real possibility that I will fall in love with you,” he says. Almut has none of it. Her reaction is belligerently dismissive when he brings up the conversation with the kids (“I’m sorry, but what the hell are you even talking about?”), and it stays that way even when he offers his heart. She’s not interested in making such a promise: “And actually, there’s a little part of me that thinks, ‘Fuck you,’ if I even ask.”

But Almut can only resist the pull of heteronormativity for so long. If she is diagnosed with cancer soon, she will have the option of a partial or total hysterectomy. Total hysterectomy carries a lower risk of recurrence (and a lower risk of, you know, dying). Still, she chooses the former, arguing, “Just because I’ve never imagined having children in general doesn’t mean there isn’t a world in which I couldn’t decide in time to have them with you.” This is presented as her decision (progressive!), but it’s just one example of how Nick Payne’s script brings the somewhat unruly Almut back to the center, whatever the cost. We live in time She simply couldn’t justify her own existence as a tearjerker if Almut hadn’t died in the end, and so it’s no surprise that she has a child after taking the risk and then is diagnosed with stage 3 ovarian cancer she has given birth. Your decision gave one life and will take another: hers. This is a film not intended to protect the mother’s life.

After this second diagnosis – revealed at the beginning of a film that never stops hopping around in time – Almut and Tobias have a confidential conversation in which she explains that she’s “not particularly interested in a treatment plan that inadvertently takes up our time.” wasted,” and would rather opt for “six fucking awesome, fantastic, proactive months than twelve really, really shitty, passive ones.” Because it comes so early in the film, this seems to be the announcement of its premise: Seize the day! Don’t let impending death stop you from living your best life! Since Tobias has not yet made her an honest woman despite their life together and their child, he proposes to her. Cheering ensues. They’re getting married! She will invest her remaining life in the stressful and practically rarely fun ordeal of wedding planning! Yay?

There’s a bit of theatrics about gender roles – Almut’s job as a chef plays a prominent role, while his job as a cereal company representative is basically an afterthought. Also, Tobias is more on the gentle side: at a certain point about halfway through, Garfield seems to be quietly forming tears in every scene. He keeps himself busy picking out her save-the-date mailers while she can’t finish, as they say in the UK. However, these are empty gestures. We live in time has the standard-setting feel of a decades-old film – it’s the kind of portrayal of “pure love” that can easily be confused with a prescription for how things should be. This is a traditional, even conservative film in edgy clothing. Of course it looks cute, but it’s outlandish enough to make it feel like we’ve never seen this thing that we’ve actually seen countless times before: Tobias, in his hotel garb, running onto a fairly large highway to get something off the ground After picking up some pencils and a chocolate-covered orange from a supermarket, he is hit by a car. When he comes to in the hospital, Almut is sitting across from him. She informs him, “I ran you over.” The film doesn’t do much to question Tobias’s stupidity (the scene where he prowls through traffic like a raccoon is played just for fun and is genuinely confusing). Attempts at levity here can also be tonally confusing and sometimes veer into sitcom territory, such as when Almut is in labor on the way to the hospital and the couple is stuck in a traffic jam. They leave the car to buy snacks for her, she goes to the toilet and ultimately gives birth there. They then pack an ambulance to get to the hospital. What happened to her car? Previous robbers on the way to the hospital find their Mini Cooper wedged between two closely parked cars, and the arduous process of driving away is reminiscent of one Austin Powers a little.

There are some appealing things We live in timeespecially its main characters. “Chemistry” seems too strong a word for what’s on screen; The brief sex scenes are cut before they come to a boil. But Pugh and Garfield manage to convincingly express their love for each other. His non-verbal play is particularly apt – after learning that children aren’t Almut’s thing, he subtly flinches as he watches her prepare the meal. Elsewhere, there is a beautiful moment early in their relationship when he watches her from across the room at a party and catches her gaze, a quiet recognition of budding love. But in the same way We live in time Hovering between the progressive ideals it claims to have and the rigid traditionalism at its core, it’s also a tearjerker with a weak grip. The choppy cut cannot hide the actual results. A scene is set up where Almut and Tobias tell their child Ella about Almut’s cancer, only for the child’s explanation and reaction to be interrupted. Almut’s first round of treatment is completely glossed over.

In a final twist near the end of the film, Almut reveals that she has been practicing for the prestigious Bocuse d’Or cooking competition, which happens to be taking place on the weekend they were supposed to get married. She effectively chooses her work over the wedding and gives a speech about why the competition is so important to her. She doesn’t want to just be “someone’s fucking mother.” She wants her daughter to have something to remember and for their relationship not to be defined by her deteriorating health. “Or maybe I just can’t bear the thought of being forgotten,” Almut says. Whatever the case, her decision has been made, and for a moment it seems that way We live in time is freed from its bourgeois tendencies. This is their workplace to die for. Then Tobias throws their save-the-date cards in the trash and sobs over the pain of the tradition not coming to fruition.

But this seemingly rousing declaration in the third act makes the end of her story all the more confusing. Immediately after Almut completes the competition seemingly without wasting any time (and with the crucial help of her sous-chef), she takes off her chef’s hat, leaves the stage before the results are announced, grabs her family from the stands, and heads to the stage Way an ice skating rink. At the beginning of the film, at a dinner with Almut and Tobais’ families, it is revealed that Almut used to be a figure skater (of course!). So it seems that if she can’t pass on the memory of her Bocuse d’Or triumph to her daughter, she can at least show off her figure skating skills. She leaves her family at the end of the rink and starts skating alone. In the air is the promise of a stunt double using CGI to show off Pugh’s head and do an axel or two. But instead she just runs quickly, swings to look at them from a distance, and waves. This is the last time we see Almut – no real decline from cancer (though it does make her head bang and vomit a few times), no final virtuoso act for her daughter to hold on to. She’s not a dead mom yet, but she’s a waving mom. So much for the successes.

Death itself is implied. In the final scene, Tobias and Ella collect eggs from chickens outside their house and then prepare food. He reminds his daughter of Almut’s method of cracking eggs (on a flat surface) and that’s it. As far as legacies go, Almut’s is woefully undercooked. She wants to have everything and dies because of it. That also applies We live in time wants to achieve a lot in his effort to overcome the brutal constraints of these types of romances. “Hopeless romantics” can hardly be described It.