Florence Pugh shines in the artistic love drama “We Live in Time”

When producing a romantic drama, one could choose the path of the rousing melodrama (like It ends with us) or turn down the volume and choose something more economical (like weekend). Following a course between these poles can prove more difficult; sentimentality and seriousness do not often go well together. And yet in the new film We live in timewhich premiered here on Friday at the Toronto Film Festival, John Crowley and screenwriter Nick Payne manages to find a stable middle ground and achieve a kind of sober sentimentality.

The film begins with a scene of contented domesticity. A woman, Almut (Florence Pugh), fetches cooking utensils – herbs, freshly laid eggs – from the lush garden next to her pretty country house. She goes inside to cook something and wake up her sleepy husband Tobias (Andrew Garfield). It is a silent, everyday moment of intimacy, dazed by Stuart Bentley and scored a dream goal through Bryce Dessner. Here is a happy couple, wrapped in routine.

Then the film switches to another, later time, it seems, when the two are sitting in a doctor's office while Almut receives the terrible news that her cancer has returned and her treatment options will be brutal. A tough conversation about quality of life ensues, with the film revealing its sharper edges, its interest in complicated conversations. Pugh is pragmatic and direct; Garfield is the whiner one.

We live in time then he travels back to tell the story of two great beginnings. There's the obligatory meet-cute – in this case, Almut, a cook, hits Tobias, an IT guy from Wheatabix, with her car – which develops into a heady love affair. The first early obstacle is Tobias and Almut's differing views on having children. Pregnancy does occur, depicted in the film's most comical sections – this is a film with a silly-sweet birth sequence, a hallmark of the genre.

The film is an elegant stringing together of these pivotal moments in the development of a partnership. Its high points are too specific to be exactly generic, but they certainly follow a tried-and-tested formula. Were the film told in a linear fashion, I wonder if it would feel as fresh. A change in structure would at least not spoil the tension of Payne's often clever and piercing dialogue or the winningly naturalistic performances of its two stars.

Garfield, who has perhaps the most enviable haircut in the business, uses his still-unmistakable appeal – the slight tremor in his voice, his watery eyes and his crinkly smile – to create a believably decent guy who is, above all, a believer in love. Pugh can play with more courage and independence, and draw out the conflict more clearly. She is a marvel in the film, reacting fluidly to every change in the emotional weather.

We live in time finds much of its insight in Almut's complex motivations, the tug-of-war between her duties to the family and her own ambition – both of which are severely compromised by her health. Almut is afraid that if she gives up her career, she will leave no inheritance and thus nothing to help her child understand her mother's individual life and mind. It's an interesting way of tackling a tension common in films; self-interest is treated not as a solipsistic distraction but almost as a lesson taught.

The way the film considers issues of parenthood – or the decision not to be a parent – is perhaps a little too heavier on the traditional mold. Adoption is never mentioned as a possibility, nor is Almut's hesitation to have a child at all treated with the same respect as Tobias' desire to become a father. Payne uses his disjointed technique to skip over some difficult, life-changing conversations, giving us the idea of ​​a rupture in a relationship but not showing exactly how those issues were resolved.

Crowley and Payne's non-linear approach also undermines some of the film's dramatic impact. We are aware of the existence of a child before we hear the discussion of children. The film presents Almut's second diagnosis long before her first. When developments and conclusions are anticipated in this way, there is little room for joyful surprise or the crushing bang of new and devastating information (the way diagnoses like this would arrive in real life). I really like the film's driving and back-and-forth cadence, but it forces us to take a more objective viewpoint.

The film is still universally appealing, making us sympathise with two people and suffer with them as life's inevitable ravages ravage them. Add to that its deft humour, its refreshingly frank and positive portrayal of sex – perhaps we're finally coming to some closure on this score. And then there's the remarkable Pugh, who does so much to make a story about pretty people in pretty places and thinly contrived circumstances deeply human. Through her we feel the film's fiercest passion, its bitterest grief. She presents a tangible life, fully realised but fleeting.