Eternity (United States, 2025)

At first glance, Eternity seems to be just an offbeat rom-com – a trifle about a woman forced to choose between two men. Beneath the surface, however, there’s more going on. The screenplay, co-credited to director David Freyne and Pat Cunnane, challenges the viewer to think about what love really means. Is it the passion of a flaming affair that burns white-hot for a short time? Or is it something slower, longer, and more patient: a fusing of individuals through shared experiences and compromises over the better part of a lifetime? That’s the question Joan (Elizabeth Olsen) has to answer – is it Larry (Miles Teller) or Luke (Callum Turner)? And she only has a week to make the decision, a deadline that becomes both a source of tension and a narrative clock.

In most romantic comedies, there’s a clear-cut rooting interest and a pretty obvious indication of who’s going to end up canoodling when the end credits finally arrive. That’s not a flaw; it’s a feature. But it’s also one area where Eternity upends convention. Because, given the nature of what’s going on, allegiances switch back and forth with surprising regularity. The screenplay keeps rejiggering our sympathies, pushing us to reconsider what we value more: youthful passion or the emotional bedrock of companionship. And, although it could be argued that the ending is preordained, I don’t think I really saw it until it was obvious. Although a threesome isn’t in the cards, I can’t say there weren’t moments when I hoped the movie might at least flirt with the idea.

Joan is dead. Not at the very beginning of the film, when she’s a 90-ish woman (played by Betty Buckley), suffering from terminal cancer but soldiering on for her children, but soon after. Her husband, Larry, who has been by her side for 65 years, precedes her into the afterworld following an unfortunate encounter with a windpipe-obstructing pretzel. He awakens in Eternity’s lobby, looking as he did about 50 years earlier. He doesn’t have to wait long for Joan to join him. But there’s a complication. Before Joan married Larry, she was briefly the wife of Luke, a U.S. serviceman who died during the Korean War. Their romance burned brightly but his sacrifice ended it. Joan moved on, although she never forgot Luke, and both she and Larry couldn't help but occasionally wonder whether she had “settled” for her second husband. In the afterlife, Luke has been waiting diligently for 65 years, anticipating a reunion. Now Joan must choose: walk the path not taken with Luke and claim the future she once imagined, or stay with Larry, the man who shared her entire adult life and knows her as well as she knows herself—perhaps even better.

Making things more urgent is that there are no do-overs. Once a decision has been made and a path has been followed, there’s no turning back. The filmmakers have a lot of fun throwing out options for different eternities, each with its own slogan and advertising campaign. Regardless of what future one can imagine, it’s out there. For Luke, it’s a rustic cabin in the woods with a view to die for (so to speak). For Larry, it’s a crowded beach resort where the sights aren’t quite as enticing. At first, both men are convinced Joan is going to pick them. Then, as they begin to realize that the other might have the upper hand, we see flickers of insecurity and a real fear of loneliness. They even bond over those shared anxieties.

Although some of the comedy is a little too broad – assistants Anna (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) and Ryan (John Early) provide purely comedic accents – the screenplay is pitched at a higher level than one might normally expect from a movie of this sort. The three leads are all immensely likable. There’s a great, companionable chemistry between Miles Teller and Elizabeth Olsen; an easiness to their interactions makes it believable that they have spent more than half a century tripping over one another. Callum Turner has the sort of earnestness that turns Luke into a quasi-tragic figure, someone whose dedication would cause Jane Austen to swoon.

It’s rare that a screenplay surprises me; Eternity is one of those exceptions. Although unquestionably playing by the rom-com rulebook, it nevertheless wanders just enough off the beaten path to forge its own way. It’s quirky, a little unpredictable, and never feels like warmed-over leftovers. There’s a bite to things – an edginess that doesn’t cut too deeply but keeps the sentimentality in check. One of the year’s most pleasant surprises.

Eternity (United States, 2025)