Andrew Garfield on weepie rom-com We Live in Time: ‘I love that this film wears its heart on its sleeve’

IIt’s not a spoiler to say that We Live in Time is a tearjerker. It begins with the late-stage cancer diagnosis of the female protagonist, Almut (Florence Pugh), a rising star chef. The story then jumps back and forth through time to paint a picture of her relationship with Tobias, a cereal marketing manager (Andrew Garfield): the charming meet-cute (a car accident), their early courtship, the birth of their daughter in a gas station toilet. At the London premiere, a woman near me cried so much as the credits rolled that she felt compelled to apologize to everyone around.

“I think that’s a shame,” says Garfield. “That someone would feel like they had to apologize. I think this speaks to a cultural thing we have, especially in Britain, where outward displays of emotion are considered somehow inappropriate or shameful.

“One of the things I like about this movie is that it wears its heart on its sleeve. It honors the expressed emotional lives of two people who could be any of us. I love that this woman got a huge response.

A few days before Christmas I meet Garfield in a hotel room in London. Outside, tourists and last-minute shoppers stream through the narrow streets of Soho. He’s leaning back on a couch in jeans and a sweatshirt – unguarded and funny. Next to him stands the director, John Crowleyin a shirt and blazer. He leans forward attentively. There is a pot of tea between us.

“It hits part of our audience very hard,” says Crowley. “They bring their own life experience and sadness.” He looks at Garfield. “Maybe it’s just shame, so much naked emotion in a group. I’ve had people say to me, “I can’t wait to watch it again on my own and have an ugly cry.” It’s quite moving.”

Even more than the story or the shuffled time frame, it’s the two central performances that give We Live in Time such a profound intersection. Garfield and Pugh are so captivating and relatable that everyday activities such as a walk through a London park, a visit to a fairground or sharing Jaffa Cakes in the bath are compelling. When Tobias is in the grip of grief, Garfield is completely convincing. Five years ago, while filming The Eyes of Tammy Faye, and shortly before going into production on Tick, Tick… Boom!, Garfield’s mother, Lynn, died of cancer. The pair had a remarkably close relationship: Lynn made her son a felt Spider-Man costume when he was three, 25 years before he would don the official suit, and it was she who encouraged him to take up acting when he was struggling had. time at school. Shooting We Live in Time was, he says, “very healing… It was like giving shape to something so impossible to comprehend: a soul going through love and loss.”

At that premiere in London he sat next to his father. “Part of the reason I wanted to make the film was for him; it felt very personal to both of us. That is what the film is about: being present and enjoying those moments, which are sometimes extraordinary and sometimes small.”

Crowley, who has seen Garfield speak, intervenes and praises the “surprising directness of Andrew’s relationship with his grief.” This directness was especially evident in his recent, critically acclaimed performance on Sesame Street; as he talked to Elmo about grief, his eyes stinging with tears. “Of all the pieces you did on this film, that was my favorite,” Crowley tells him.

In a crowded field that includes Paul Mescal, Adam Brody and Harris Dickinson, Garfield is the reigning king of dreamy memes, still the official “internet boyfriend”. Fans, increasingly weary of displays of machismo, are drawn to his thoughtful reflections on life and fame. He represents a new type of leading man who isn’t afraid to be sensitive.

Are such eloquent displays of emotion intentional, or is it just something he can’t help but say? “It’s both,” he says and starts laughing. “I can certainly do something about it, but I don’t want to. I remember being young and reading actor and musician profiles or watching interviews, longing for something to actually happen, longing to be seen, longing to feel like I wasn’t alone in my own shortcomings, insecurities, fears and difficulties.

“That plays into my own imagination when I have to be a ‘public person’. I want to offer something that is real, that I could serve myself as a young or middle-aged person, something that I can actually connect with.”

As if to prove it, he asks if he can read part of a poem about the power of crying: An absolutely ordinary rainbow from Les Murray. It is set amid the hustle and bustle of 1960s Sydney, he explains, which is brought to a halt by the presence of a man crying in a large square.

The man we surround, the man no one approaches
just cries, and doesn’t cover it up, cries
not like a child, not like the wind, like a man
neither proclaims it nor beats his breast, not even
sobbing very loudly – ​​yet the dignity of his weeping

keeps us from his space, the cavity he makes around himself
in the afternoon light, in his pentagram of sorrow,
and uniforms back into the crowd that tried to grab him
stare at him and feel, with amazement, their thoughts
longing for tears like children for a rainbow.

Garfield finishes and the room is silent. “Wow,” Crowley says, looking touched. The men first met in the 2007 drama Boy A, about a young man recently released from prison. Their careers diverged after that: Garfield gained international attention in 2010 with a supporting role in The Social Network, while Crowley made Brooklyn. When casting We Live in Time, the director says he was looking for actors who could be as funny as they are vulnerable. “I wanted to infuse the emotions with comedy. Life is absurd – it is not binary. They say that in Ireland people always laugh at funerals and cry at weddings. In my experience it’s true. There is a black humor in certain sad situations.”

Much has been said in reviews about the film’s non-chronological order; some critics think it dampens climactic moments. Screenwriter Nick Payne is no stranger to this device: he used it in his 2015 hit game Constellations, which also jumps forward, backward and sideways through time to see how a couple’s parallel lives unfold. It’s comforting, I say, to remember that time isn’t linear, that a past, present, and future version of you exists all at once. We are all repetitions of ourselves in one moment.

“It’s chilling to think that time could be vertical, and not horizontal,” says Crowley.

“Real?” Garfield asks. “I find it soothing. What drags Tobias into Almut’s apartment while a baby shower is taking place? – after the couple argues about her not wanting to have children. ‘What’s happening, unseen? We had a sweet thought: maybe it’s their unborn daughter who pushes him through that door. I like it as an idea. I found it quite inspiring. And if we have the power to imagine it, why not?”

Before we say goodbye, I want to discuss what feels like the film’s nod to classic ’90s romantic comedies. A scene where Tobias and Almut ride a carousel horse wouldn’t be out of place in a Nora Ephron or Richard Curtis classic . “I didn’t know I was making a rom-com!” Crowley laughs.

Garfield brightens up excitedly. “I love a rom-com,” he says excitedly. “My mother was a big rom-com person. Sleepless in Seattle played a lot at our house. She also loved all the Julia Roberts movies.”

So she would have been a fan of this movie? “Certainly!” He pauses for a moment, as if he’s remembered something. “God, it’s terrible, isn’t it? It is such a terrible sadness to know that there are so many important moments when they will not incarnate with you. But I feel a comforting reassurance that incarnating is only a small part of the deal. You can bring their spirit into the room. Those we lose will always be with us.”