Eternity is a heartfelt, intelligently crafted, laugh-out-loud hilarious, and diligently emotional sci-fi-rom-com that tests the bounds of love’s true meaning through death. Director David Freyne offers a unique answer to what’s after death, where “the good, the bad, and the ugly” all end up at a temporary post-death train station, with one week to decide how they want to spend their forever– and who with. Neither heaven nor hell exist here; you either live your eternity, you work in the station, or you go to the void, an eternity of blackness and nothing. Working souls and other passed-ons greet you sarcastically—”I have shocking news. You’re dead”—to lighten the mood of the last decision you’ll ever make, delivering a sense of ordinariness for this seemingly unordinary circumstance for most.

In the living world, meanwhile, 65-years-married couple Larry Cutler (Barry Primus) and Joan (Betty Buckley) go to a notedly risky gender reveal party with their kids and grandkids—and fortunately no forest fires! As Joan and co. reminisce about Joan’s life, they bring up her “perfect” first husband, Luke (Callum Turner), who died in the Korean War two years before Larry and Joan married—almost rubbing it in their own grandfather’s and Joan’s current husband’s face. As Luke’s picture gets passed around, Larry drops dead. A much younger Larry (Miles Teller) awakens in the station, scrambling for help and answers. Bursting with crowds of salesmen and wandering souls, Larry’s Afterlife Coordinator (AC), Anna (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), explains the rules. Adamant to spend eternity with Joan, Larry comes to the end of his week before she dies of cancer, leading her to also awaken much younger (Elizabeth Olsen) in the station. Unfortunately for Larry, Luke had the very same idea: for 67 years, he worked as the station’s bartender, awaiting Joan’s arrival. With everlasting love on the line—as “’till death do us part” doesn’t necessarily cut it anymore—a love triangle forms. Joan must determine what’s worth forever: the “perfect” man she never got a life with, the “imperfect” man that devoted his entire being to making her happy for 65 years, or an eternity of wine drinking with her fellow late best friend Karen (Olga Merediz). Humanity’s most pitiful, brave, loving, and nuisance-inducing traits spill over one another and out of all three parties’ hearts.

Oh, the things we do for love—and oh, the eternally lovable components this film delivers. Writing this, I recall so many even dumb, love-stricken choices I’ve made. From reckless, stupid choices to the cheesy, nostalgic bits worth remembering, it’s all about finding what love really means and, more importantly, what we’d do for it. Eternity sees a trio each grapple with that definition both within themselves and in relation to their loved one(s). Planting viewers in an opaque stopgap between life and what comes after, where the bright oranges, blues, whites, etc. of this sunshiny station disguise the pressure of its purpose and souls’ ultimate fates, the primary trio has plenty of room to figure themselves and each other out to humorously relatable results. The contrast between Luke and Larry really says it all. From the get-go, Larry is depicted in everyone else’s minds as the second choice: “Why would you leave him for papa?” one of Larry’s own kids asks Joan in front of him. Despite that, he presses on, remembering everything about Joan’s favorite activities, things, and jokes, and doing what he can to make her and his family as happy as he can. Unfortunately, that turns him into the comedic relief, which—while partially accepted and encouraged by Larry’s own ridiculous antics and eggings on, and knee-slappingly enlivened by Teller—leaves a toll, especially now in competition with Luke: “I guess everyone was right then. That you never loved me. That you don’t love me. That I was just some consolation prize.” His being the “consolation prize” only gets reinforced as he watches time stop for his Joan and Luke whenever they sink into each other’s pupils.

Even though he spent his entire life trying to make Joan happy—”I wanted everything to be okay for you,” he pleads to a conflicted Joan—he finds nothing can beat perfection (Luke). Fortunately for him, Luke is far from perfect, and Joan is also a complex human being looking for more than supposed perfection. While Luke is a romantic most of the time, metaphorically sweeping Joan off her feet with every glance, chuckle, and comment, he has yearned for decades and becomes willing to hurt others for what he wants. While both Larry and Luke eventually attempt to screw each other over for Joan to favor the other—”Then why did you do it at the dock?” an enraged Luke demands Larry in front of Joan after seeing memories of Joan and Luke’s goodbye on a fishing dock that Larry then proposed to Joan on years later—Luke could care less for Larry and his fate, at least initially. He spends much of his time reminding Joan how much he missed her and borderline guilt-tripping her for his waiting: “It kills me that I didn’t have that with you,” he admits on a mountain top as Joan spends time between mountains (Luke) and the beach (Larry) to determine who she wants eternity with. He also, like many of his now frozen young age, is in the early stages of baldness and is sexually curious. Sixty-seven years is a long time to remain confident in your undying love and sexuality, of course! Most importantly, though, no matter how perfect Luke may be, he lacks what Larry had: sixty-five years of living and growing with Joan, who is, of course, the most essential character of all.

While the film spends much time fleshing out Larry’s fallbacks and Luke’s being little more than “…
a collection of [distant] memories,” Joan’s reactions to all of it drive it all the most. With Oscar-worthy work from Olsen as the star whose eternity is arguably most on the line, Joan is an infectiously quippy, unmoving, and charismatic protagonist. Because of some unfair fate, unbeknownst even to the station workers like Larry’s AC Coordinator, Anna, or the one Joan and Luke (un)coincidentally share, Ryan (John Early), it’s her thinking and decisions that ultimately decide the fates of three separate people. It’s an impossible choice, especially considering the men aren’t willing to enter a polyamorous forever together. None of them knows what’s best, Joan least of all. But as the film continues bouncing between couple dynamics and witty remarks from the ACs around them, Eternity reveals to audiences and these love-triangled people love’s true meaning: selflessness, dedication, and understanding. Mature love is “bickering in the car,” arguing over nothing, accepting each other’s worst flaws, and dealing with each new issue head-on “as a team,” as Joan herself says. Not the romanticized, dreamily naive love of sunshine and rainbows we envision in our youth. That’s not “love before understanding loss,” as Joan again finds when she relives her life’s best memories. Once found, that love cannot be tossed out—and Joan’s answer is clear.

Thus, Eternity is largely an emotionally all-encompassing, laughably touching romance with post-death sci-fi thrown in to spice things up. It does have a few issues, of course. Luke’s simplistic character design in comparison to Larry and Joan is a dampener; Eternity‘s afterlife concept is underutilized, feeling way more like a catalyst to make an otherwise bland love story seem less predictable (which it fails at anyway); nods to other sexualities and ways of living feel more like straight people desperately calling out “ally” whilst still tropifying not-straight relationships. But mostly, this deep dive into the romantic lives of three different souls—and their many imperfections as people—makes Eternity an instant rom-com sci-fi classic. For cast fans, post-death questioners, A24 fans, blended genre fans, and those looking for a humorously touching time at the movies, Eternity‘s got a plethora of moments to laugh at and reflect on into your grave.

Opens Wednesday, 11/26, @ Alamo Drafthouse Seaport, Coolidge Corner Theatre, Landmark’s Kendall Square Cinema, Somerville Theatre, and all local AMCs