In the heart-wrenching tale "We Live in Time," time does not linger gently but flickers and bounds, relentlessly weaving back and forth, creating a web of love and heartbreak. Set against the backdrop of contemporary Britain, the narrative delicately traces the evolution of Almut (portrayed by the radiant Florence Pugh) and Tobias's (Andrew Garfield's nuanced portrayal) bond across the canvas of life's pivotal milestones. From their first tender embrace to the depths of commitment, through shared triumphs and the harsh trials of life, their journey unfolds in a tapestry where the fabric of time itself is intricately manipulated.
The film, penned by Nick Payne and masterfully directed by John Crowley, defies conventional linearity, splicing together three distinct eras – a sprawling multiyear arc, a poignant six-month chapter, and a poignant day – in a mesmerizing dance of memories and present realities. These abrupt transitions, devoid of the customary visual cues or sentimental voiceovers, initially disorient, yet the filmmakers cleverly anchor us in the shifting timelines through subtle cues: Tobias and Almut's evolving hairstyles, and the miraculous growth of their daughter, Ella (Grace Delaney), from a whispered hope to a vibrant presence.
As the years roll by, not only do Almut and Tobias age gracefully, but their narrative weaves a more intricate tale than most. Almut, the film's luminous protagonist, undergoes a profound metamorphosis, her culinary aspirations blossoming from humble beginnings in a quaint restaurant to the pinnacle of success, presiding over a Michelin-starred establishment. However, the shadow of adversity looms large when they receive the devastating news of Almut's ovarian cancer relapse, a jarring reminder of the fragility of life and the relentless march of time.
Pugh and Garfield form a compelling on-screen chemistry, their performances deeply intertwined, conveying the intricacies of their characters' mutual attraction. Yet, while Almut stands tall as a fully realized individual, her partner Tobias, at times, feels like a mere extension of her formidable spirit. His character, constrained by a mundane job and underdeveloped narrative arc, often relies on Garfield's innate ability to evoke empathy through his tear-filled eyes, a testament to his talent but also a sign of an undernourished role.
Almut's ambition, drive, and unwavering passion for her craft imbue her with a contemporary fire, mirrored perfectly by Pugh's electric and emotionally charged performance. She navigates the film's temporal shifts with grace, her character's resilience shining through even as the narrative threatens to subvert her hard-earned independence. The filmmakers' decision to undermine Almut's culinary aspirations, particularly in a pivotal competition scene, feels like a misstep, overlooking the profound significance of her work to her identity and legacy.
Reflecting on Almut's struggles, I'm reminded of a poignant essay by my colleague Zachary Woolfe, where he explores the enduring trope of suffering women in contemporary opera. His words echo the challenges faced by films like "We Live in Time," which, despite its attempts to grapple with modern struggles, ultimately reverts to the tired archetype of the saintly, suffering woman – devoid of the triumphant aria that might have celebrated her indomitable spirit.
