Reel Reviews | Eternity

by Tim Gordon

What happens when love, loss, and eternity collide? Eternity takes that big question and spins it into a romantic fantasy comedy about choices that stretch beyond life itself.

The premise is irresistible: in the afterlife, everyone gets one week to decide where, and more importantly, with whom, they will spend eternity. For Joan (Elizabeth Olsen), that choice is excruciating. Does she choose Larry (Miles Teller), the man she built her life and family with, or Luke (Callum Turner), her first husband who died tragically in war?

The setup promises both comedy and poignancy, and at moments it delivers. What anchors Eternity amid its whimsical conceit is the lived-in chemistry between Teller and Olsen. Joan and Larry feel like a couple who have carried both love and resentment through the years, two people who know exactly how to push each other’s buttons because they’ve pushed them a thousand times before. Teller leans into Larry’s everyman exasperation, playing him as a man who masks vulnerability with bluster, while Olsen gives Joan a layered warmth that oscillates between affection, regret, and quiet rebellion. Together, their banter carries an authenticity that grounds the afterlife concept, especially in the quieter scenes where the film pauses and lets us feel the weight of decades spent together.

Their dynamic also sharpens the central dilemma: is Joan’s eternity best spent with the man who grew alongside her, through children, compromise, and ordinary routines, or with the memory of a first love untouched by time or disappointment? Teller and Olsen make you feel the pull of both choices, so that Joan’s decision is less about fantasy versus reality than about how we define the meaning of a life shared.

Turner injects a romantic ache as the love frozen in time, while John Early, as Joan’s quirky afterlife coordinator, supplies bursts of absurd humor. And whenever Da’Vine Joy Randolph shows up as Larry’s blunt but hilarious guide, the film lights up with much-needed energy.

Yet despite its charms, Eternity doesn’t fully earn its runtime. Pat Cunnane’s script has a clever concept, but it strings it out too long, circling the same emotional beats without fully developing them. What could have been a taut, witty exploration of eternal choices becomes baggy, especially in the second act, where pacing sags.

Freyne’s direction is gentle and whimsical, leaning into the ethereal visuals of the afterlife with soft light and surreal details. But the tonal balance sometimes slips; it’s never as moving as it wants to be, nor as funny as it could be. Still, the performances keep it afloat, especially Randolph, who provides the film’s sharpest laughs.

The film’s inspirations are clear, but more than anything, Eternity feels indebted to Albert Brooks’ Defending Your Life. Like that classic, it frames the afterlife as a place where choices, regrets, and the meaning of love are placed under a microscope. The difference is that Brooks leaned into sharp satire and philosophical bite, while Eternity often retreats to lighter comedic rhythms when it should dig deeper. It gestures toward profound questions about love, loyalty, and what it truly means to choose someone “forever,” but too often smooths them over with whimsy instead of wrestling with their weight.

Ultimately, Eternity is a film with a great idea, a strong cast, and a handful of lovely moments. But like its characters wandering the afterlife, it loses its way before reaching the destination.

Grade: C+