‘We Live In Time’: sad British films are back

John Crowley's latest instalment in heartbreak, reviewed

The first half of this review is spoiler-free.

We Live In Time isn’t even officially released anywhere other than North America and already the whole world is on its knees begging to see it - at least I was, anyway. So when I saw that I could make a screening of it at London Film Festival this year, I added an 8-pack of pocket tissues to my shopping list. In hindsight, that’s the wisest cinema-going decision I’ve ever made.

This film quite truly broke me, aged me and humbled me all at once. Of course, I was enamoured by the performances of the charming Andrew Garfield and Florence Pugh who could quite frankly make anyone fall head over heels for them, but I was in total adoration of this ingenious reimagining of the British romance.

Taking inspiration from films like Blue Valentine and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, John Crowley’s non-linear narrative deconstructs the expectations of a romantic tragedy and focuses on the minutiae that form the unbreakable bonds we hold so close.

Garfield and Pugh play Tobias and Almut, two adults with a child-like infatuation for each other that, over time, becomes driven less by a crush and more by a desperation to be with each other. As they find their lives increasingly intertwined, their grief, worries and anxieties also become shared. Crowley’s narrative expertly navigates the question of ‘will things get easier?’ by answering ‘no, they will not’. Oddly, there is a comfort to that, even with the utterly shattering ending to the film. This is a film for those in love, out of love, looking for love and all the in betweens.

Spoilers ahead!

What really carries this story is the Britishness of it all. In my Letterboxd review, I mention (jokingly) how it should only be watched by UK audiences, and that’s just because of the amount of underlying humour that’s really only attributable to the English. I’m talking Jaffa Cakes, Bounty-in-the-Celebrations-box slander, the timeless charm of a petrol station and the most gorgeously styled little girl you’ve ever seen. I don’t know how endearing that would be to a non-Brit and I wonder if that takes away from the warm fuzziness of the film. Any Americans that have seen it, let me know in the comments.

There is an art to the script in We Live In Time: the art being that most of the words are unspoken and gestured only with glances and silences. We’ve all seen Andrew Garfield bear his grief online in more ways that one, and if anything, it makes his performance even more believable. Similarly, Florence Pugh’s open and honest dialogue with her admirers online, as well as quirky interview formats where she cooks in kitchens, help to create the facade that Pugh really is Almut.

There’s a thought in there somewhere about how the appeal of Garfield and Pugh may well have been carried my love for this film: do I have some inkling of a parasocial relationship with the idea of them together that I fell into Crowley’s trap even harder than intended?

Maybe.

But I can say this with confidence: We Live In Time is a film that forces us to think about what we want and how we’re going to get it, because time is of the essence. Not to take the title too literally, but we are always worrying about it, needing more of it, overwhelmed by time. Crowley reminds us, in Almut’s words, how important it is to not have ‘shitty, passive months’ but have ‘really great, active months’ instead.