Review: â€˜We Live in Time’: Dying from cancer, the charming and curated version

In the run-up to the release of the twisty weepie “We Live in Time,� A24 released a promotional picture of its main characters, played by Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield, enjoying a carousel ride together, their giddy pleasure overshadowed by the presence of a golden, bug-eyed and, from the look of things, demonically possessed merry-go-round horse in the foreground of the photo.

The image became an instant meme with people superimposing the stallion into shots from “The Shining,� “Alien 3� and any other movie where this horse’s malevolent visage actually made sense. (Unlike, say, a romantic tear-jerker.) It’s as if Ari Aster had a leftover prop from “Hereditary� that was gathering dust inside an A24 storage shed and someone decided to insert it into “We Live in Time� just to see if anyone would notice.

And if they had? Who knows, maybe it’d spawn a new slow-burn A24 horror film centered on a haunted carousel that acts as a metaphor as to how we spend most of our lives going around in circles, lost until Death comes riding in on a googly-eyed horse to snatch us away.

That would be a more interesting movie than “We Live in Time,� which seems less a film than an impeccably curated Instagram account that’s been jumbled out of sequence. Here’s Pugh, playing celebrated chef Almut Brühl, gathering ingredients for a Douglas fir parfait, an iffy creation that signals her daring brilliance. Here’s Almut again, now quite pregnant, sitting on a toilet, having her contractions meticulously timed by her dutiful partner, Tobias (Garfield). Now Almut is in the kitchen, doubling over in pain. (After eating a Douglas fir parfait, perhaps?)

Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield in the movie “We Live in Time.�

(A24)

And, crucially, finally, here’s Almut and Tobias in a doctor’s office, learning that her ovarian cancer has returned. (Wait, she already had cancer?) Afterward, Almut wonders if she’s up for going through another brutal treatment. Might it not be better to have six fantastic months together rather than a year (if she’s lucky) spent in hospital rooms? Don’t answer that until you see the couple’s cozy country cottage. Then you’ll begin to understand their dilemma.

Yes, “We Live in Time� is a weepie, though it’s worth wondering if director John Crowley and screenwriter Nick Payne would embrace that label. The film’s hodgepodge structure, scenes assembled as if picked out of a hat, appears intended to disguise or, in a more generous reading, elevate its genre. Instead, it distances the audience from Almut and Tobias. They’re concepts, not characters. We barely know them, so it’s difficult to share their heartbreak. And what’s the point of a “Love Story� if it fails to pierce the heart?

But these darlings are beautiful. And they’re played by Pugh and Garfield, gifted actors capable of boosting even the silliest moments, such as when Tobias leaves his hotel room in his bathrobe, purposefully walking into the night to procure a pen to sign his divorce papers. (No, he’s not getting divorced from Almut. But given the way the movie flits around, I understand why you asked.) Returning from the convenience store, he stumbles into a busy roadway and is struck by a car, driven by Almut. Later, neck brace notwithstanding, he’s smitten.

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It’s cute. And it’s so easy to be taken with these two warm, assured actors that the first hour of “We Live in Time� flies by, a procession of meet-cutes, feisty squabbles, passionate sex, sad faces, chocolate-covered biscuits being balanced on Alma’s pregnant belly in the bathtub and candles — so, so many candles. Pugh gives Alma an edgy unpredictability that almost makes you believe some of the implausible things she does. And the expressive Garfield can convey water-eyed empathy so deftly that you know Tobias would be laid low if Almut so much as stubbed her toe on the leg of a coffee table.

Of course, we know Almut will suffer through much deeper difficulties. The movie aims to go deeper with her plight, toying with the idea of Almut wondering what her legacy might be and worrying that her daughter (yes, a child is born, and you’ll never look at a gas station bathroom the same way again) will only remember her as someone who fought cancer. Almut cringes at the idea of being commemorated in such a one-note fashion. But the filmmakers only halfheartedly commit to exploring these emotions, reducing her feelings to a plot twist inserted to supply a bit of conflict.

Thanks to Pugh, I have no doubt that Almut will be remembered: “We Live in Time� contains an almost endless array of exquisitely lit shots of her and Garfield running around English gardens and twinkly carnivals, images that should, in no time, replace that diabolical carousel horse as the preferred meme from this movie. It might not make you ugly-cry, but you could well wonder where you can buy that handsome shearling jacket that Pugh wears. You like it? Treat yourself. Life, as we learn from this movie, is all too short.