We Live In Time isn’t a film about death; it’s a film about life. It’s about Almut and Tobias, curiously named and irrevocably intertwined in love, tackling all of the grown-up messiness that comes with navigating life in your thirties. Life can be unkempt at the best of times, so when Almut is diagnosed with cancer, things only become more difficult for our central pair; and thus our story begins. 

It’s quite clear from the start how the story is going to end, but this isn’t a film that (forgive the phrase) lives or dies by its ending. It’s about the journey that takes us there. Two of the UK’s very finest are here to guide us through the movie’s narrative, and there isn’t a more charming pair to be found on screen this year than Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield. The very foundations upon which We Live In Time is built lies in their chemistry. These two have it in spades. They are, quite simply, a match made in heaven. Their bond is so palpable, so fizzing, so electrifying, that they have immediately become one of the most believable on-screen pairings in recent memory. You’ll miss them when the credits roll. 

The story is refreshingly straightforward, although its delivery takes us back and forth in time, presenting the lover’s spotty history in jumbled puzzle-pieces. The non-linear approach may be challenging for some viewers who are accustomed to a more traditional narrative, but it only serves to accentuate the film’s poignancy. The good times are wistfully mirrored with the bad. The film reminds us that in life, for every birth there must be a death. But it’s also a story about legacy; Almut’s understanding of it, her pursuit of it, her attempt to mould it. It deals with the eternal dichotomy of whether one's personal or professional accomplishments are of more value, and how one appraises what they leave behind when reckoning with their own impending death. You’ll leave the theatre contemplating your own, once you’ve brushed away the tears. 

The filmmaking itself is solid, if nothing remarkable, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a small-scale film with small-stale stakes, told efficiently and well. The music is effective, swelling and subduing in all of the right places, and the script punctuates the sadness with potent bursts of comedy. It’s seductive in its British-isms, indulging in its British cast and its British locations with frequent and deliberate harks to Weetabix, Jaffa Cakes and Terry’s Chocolate Oranges. The film’s main strengths lie in the script and the performances; Pugh and Garfield have never been more watchable, and the script will leave you entangled in the central romance right alongside them.

It’s hard to discuss the film’s ending without entering spoiler territory, but it’s one of the film’s strongest elements, full-throated and unabashed. It’s handled so tenderly and sensitively that it will truly take your breath away. It sounds strange to say, but it respects Almut’s privacy. We see exactly what she would have wanted us to see. It will knock the wind out of you, but it somehow feels triumphant, just how she would like it. The world continues to move, even when it’s come crashing down around you. It’s hopeless but not-hopeless. There’s a majesty to death, and We Live In Time recognises - indeed, celebrates - the beauty in ever having lived at all.