We all know the archetypal leading man playbook: smoldering eyes, carefully chosen words, ineffable swagger, and a forward-facing selfishness that slowly recedes as the movie progresses. It’s a vision of alpha-male cool that hasn’t exactly aged gracefully, and Andrew Garfield has taken note. Having just missed out on the traditional version of stardom that a more successful Spider-Man franchise would have provided, the affable British actor spent the last decade in an elongated attempt to prove that real men have feelings, shedding tears and embodying decency across 99 Homes, Silence, Hacksaw Ridge, and tick, tick… BOOM! A generational heartthrob for those interested in masculinity’s softer side, Garfield has turned his career into a form of cultural counterprogramming that often finds him playing a subservient role, even when his name is first on the call sheet. This kind of on-screen generosity and comradery would seemingly make him a perfect fit for a romantic two-hander, propping up his co-star with every gentle gesture and meaningful stare. After all, who doesn’t dream of selfless, unwavering support, the kind that eviscerates its proprietor along the way?

And why would Tobias not throw himself fully behind his romantic partner; it’s not like he has anything going on. Sleepwalking through his days as a public representative for Weetabix, Garfield’s character is a new divorcee whose close relationship with his doting father (Douglas Hodge) is about the only defining attribute he can claim. Being hit by a car would seem to be the cherry on top of a dastardly sundae, but the offending driver, Almut (Florence Pugh), is ready to turn a traffic accident into a meet-cute. Modeled after a specific type of weepy romance that’s largely vacated the theatrical apparatus, We Live In Time follows the surprise couple through years of triumphs and tragedies, awash in the swooning montages and tender details that harken back to yesteryear’s cinematic love stories.

The movie’s differentiating detail, as the title might suggest, concerns its organization. Though their vehicular greeting serves as the chronological starting place, director John Crowley’s film opens with a scene from later in their lives together, proceeding to jump back and forth in time liberally throughout the proceedings. Answering the long standing question as to what Terms of Endearment would look like if it was written by Christopher Nolan, We Live’s time-hopping gimmick feels like a hedging of bets from a creative team worried about over-familiarity. Perhaps they’re not wrong; theater-going audiences have grown accustomed to non-blockbuster offerings that affix a little razzle-dazzle onto conventional story arcs, but the trickery at hand betrays a lack of faith in the material’s ability to stand on its own two feet. Worse yet, the narrative hopscotch dulls the emotional impact of the looming calamities, though anyone accustomed to this type of fare already has their tissues at the ready.

They also ought to have their melodramatic bingo cards on hand, because Nick Payne’s screenplay isn’t looking to disappoint. In addition to providing cottage core of the highest order, In Time offers us a litany of well-trodden characters and plot points, from some of life’s most important moments transpiring in inideal locations, to surprise talents that only reveal themselves upon incessant prodding, to a young daughter without anything to do but look adorable in near silence. Their conglomeration is so overwhelming that by the time Almut’s passion for cooking takes over the movie’s latter half, attended to with equal parts grave austerity and fetishistic glamour, the rolling of eyes becomes an involuntary response. At least the lightly exasperated sighs won’t be pointed in Pugh’s direction.

Running countercurrent to the breezy, disaffected naturalism favored by most of her peers, Pugh is an actor incapable of giving anything less than her all. One gets the feeling she’s been waiting to sink her teeth into something this classical, stepping into shoes previously filled by the likes of Julia Roberts, Debra Winger, and Meg Ryan. Possessing the requisite stores of vivacity and charm exuded by her forbearers, Pugh sparkles and sobs with the best of them, elevating stale material with her lively stares and emotive expressions. Smart, sassy, sexy, and capable at every turn, there’s no second guessing how someone would fall in love with Almut. As for Tobias… that’s a different story.  

Vehemently rejecting patriarchal stereotypes simply isn’t enough for Garfield; he seems determined to offer a one man mea culpa for chauvinism across human history. Spending the entirety of the film as a dog with its tail between its legs, Garfield’s trademark self-effacement has reached a breaking point, his ruminative glances and watery eyes skipping past sensuality on the way to saintliness. The passivity on display, seemingly intended to give Pugh the chance to shine, winds up stranding her as the movie’s lone gravitational force, tasked with enlivening the proceedings and giving the whole enterprise a pulse while her counterpart cheers from the sidelines. It’s a complete misapplication of a seemingly benevolent notion, doubling back from one form of male toxicity to embrace another. Making space might be a hot topic at the moment, but being a person in your own right never goes out of style.

Tobias does lay a heavy finger on the scale of one major decision that turns out disastrously, but We Live in Time is too dedicated to his virtue to see his transgression for what it is. That Almut should have to pay the price for his solitary desire doesn’t concern Crowley, who’s too busy twisting our arms behind our backs until we admit that life really is a beautiful ride. You just wish there was a living, breathing body to share it with, and the Garfield project has fully lost the plot in that regard. His character doesn’t seem to exist when Almut isn’t around, only reappearing to be either enchanted or seduced by a partner with actual drive and ambition. Her days must be long, spent pursuing her passions and returning home to a partner that hangs on her every word. The whole thing sounds exhausting, but hey, what more could a modern woman want than to be the only interesting, self-motivated person in sight?