Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield have this weird, electric chemistry that makes you forget you're watching a scripted movie. It’s rare. Usually, romantic dramas feel like they’re checking boxes—meet-cute, conflict, resolution—but We Live in Time isn't interested in that structure. It’s messy. It jumps around like a memory does.
Director John Crowley, who gave us the heartbreakingly beautiful Brooklyn, decided to chop up the timeline of Almut and Tobias’s relationship. You see them at their highest highs and their absolute lowest lows, sometimes within the same five-minute span. It’s jarring at first. Then, it starts to feel exactly like how we actually process our lives. We don't remember things in a straight line; we remember them in flashes of emotion.
The Nonlinear Puzzle of We Live in Time
Most movies about illness or romance follow a predictable arc. This one doesn't. You might see Almut (Pugh) grappling with a life-altering medical diagnosis in one scene, and then suddenly, you're watching her meet Tobias (Garfield) for the first time in a way that is both ridiculous and incredibly charming. She hits him with her car. That’s the "meet-cute." It’s absurd, but it sets the tone for a relationship built on the unpredictability of chance.
Nick Payne wrote the screenplay, and if you know his work like the play Constellations, the non-linear stuff makes total sense. He’s obsessed with the "what ifs" and the way time folds in on itself. By the time you get halfway through We Live in Time, the jumping back and forth doesn't feel like a gimmick. It feels necessary. It highlights the contrast between the mundane moments of a shared life—like arguing over how to cook something—and the monumental moments that define who we are.
Garfield plays Tobias with this soft, slightly anxious energy that balances Pugh’s fierce, ambitious Almut. She’s a rising star chef. He’s... well, he’s a guy trying to find his footing after a divorce. Their power dynamic is constantly shifting. Honestly, watching them just be in a room together is more interesting than most high-stakes action sequences.
A Masterclass in Acting Chemistry
Let’s talk about that kitchen scene. No spoilers, but there’s a sequence involving an egg that is more romantic and devastating than any grand gesture in a Nicholas Sparks adaptation. It’s small. It’s quiet. It shows how much they’ve learned about each other over years of cohabitation. Pugh is incredible here. She brings a physicality to the role—especially as her character's health fluctuates—that feels grounded in reality rather than "movie sick."
And Garfield? He’s the king of the "long look." The way he watches Almut suggests a man who is trying to memorize every detail of a person because he knows time is a finite resource. It’s heart-wrenching.
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Why the Narrative Structure Actually Works
Critics have been divided on the editing. Some find the constant time-skipping frustrating. I disagree. Life is a collection of fragments. When you’re at a funeral, you aren't thinking about the illness; you're thinking about that one time you went to the grocery store and laughed until you couldn't breathe.
We Live in Time captures that specific psychological phenomenon.
- The early days: Full of uncertainty and high-octane attraction.
- The middle years: The domesticity, the kid, the career struggles.
- The "now": Facing a ticking clock with a mix of defiance and exhaustion.
By weaving these together, Crowley forces the audience to stay active. You aren't just passively consuming a story; you're piecing together a life. It makes the emotional payoff at the end significantly heavier because you’ve seen the "before" and "after" simultaneously. You know what's at stake.
The Realistic Portrayal of Ambition
One thing the film gets right that many others fail at is the cost of ambition. Almut isn't just a "love interest" or a "patient." She’s a world-class chef. Her career matters to her as much as her family does. This creates a real, tangible friction between her and Tobias.
He wants her to rest. She wants to compete in the Bocuse d'Or, basically the Olympics of the culinary world. It’s a selfish choice, maybe. But it’s a human one. It asks the question: If your time is limited, do you spend it being safe, or do you spend it being you?
Technical Brilliance Behind the Scenes
The cinematography by Stuart Bentley is warm and intimate. He uses a lot of close-ups, trapping us in the emotional space of the characters. The color palette shifts subtly between the different time periods, though it’s never so obvious that it pulls you out of the story. It’s intuitive.
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Then there’s the score by Bryce Dessner (of The National). It’s minimalist and haunting. It doesn't tell you how to feel with sweeping violins; it just hums in the background, adding to the sense of fleeting moments.
Addressing the Sadness Factor
Is it a "sad movie"? Yeah. Obviously. Any movie involving a serious health diagnosis is going to be a tear-jerker. But it’s not manipulative. It doesn't feel like it’s poking you in the eye to make you cry. The sadness comes from a place of recognizing the beauty in the temporary. It’s a celebration of being alive, even when being alive is incredibly difficult.
The film premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) and the buzz was immediate. People weren't just talking about the plot; they were talking about how it made them feel about their own relationships. That’s the mark of a movie that’s going to stick around.
How to Approach Watching We Live in Time
If you’re going to see this, don't try to track the timeline perfectly. Don't worry about "when" you are. Just focus on the "who." The emotional continuity is what matters.
- Pay attention to the props. A specific sweater or a piece of kitchen equipment often acts as an anchor for which era you’re in.
- Watch the hair. Florence Pugh’s hair is the most reliable "time-stamp" in the film.
- Listen to the silence. Some of the most important things in the movie aren't said out loud.
This isn't a film you watch while scrolling on your phone. It requires your full attention, or you’ll lose the thread of the emotional development.
Practical Takeaways for Moviegoers
If you’re planning a movie night, maybe don't make this a first date movie unless you want to end the night sobbing into your popcorn. It’s a "talk about it for three hours afterwards" kind of film. It’s also a reminder to appreciate the boring stuff. The grocery trips. The morning coffee. The arguments about the laundry.
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The movie basically argues that these are the moments we live in. Everything else is just background noise.
Final Insights on Almut and Tobias
The ending—which I won't give away—is perfect in its simplicity. It avoids the melodramatic traps that sink other romantic dramas. It feels earned. It feels honest.
We Live in Time succeeds because it treats its characters like adults. They make mistakes. They’re stubborn. They’re deeply in love, but they also annoy the hell out of each other. It’s the most realistic depiction of a long-term partnership I’ve seen on screen in years.
To get the most out of the experience, watch for the way the film handles the concept of "legacy." It’s not about buildings or money; it’s about the recipes we leave behind and the way we taught someone else to crack an egg.
Next Steps for the Viewer:
- Check Local Listings: Ensure you see this on a screen with good sound; the subtle audio cues in the kitchen scenes are vital.
- Research the Bocuse d'Or: Understanding the intensity of the culinary competition Almut enters adds a layer of stakes to the second act.
- Reflect on the Nonlinearity: After watching, try to map out the events chronologically in your head—you'll realize how much the emotional weight changed by seeing them out of order.