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How do you want to spend eternity? That’s the primary question at the heart of David Freyne’s Eternity, a high-concept relationship comedy (which he co-wrote with Patrick Cunnane) that envisions the afterlife like a never-ending theme park vacation. Instead of knocking on the pearly gates or falling into the pits of hell, the recently departed all chug into a giant, purgatorial train terminal and must decide where to live next. The choices seem overwhelming––there are beach resorts and mountain cabins, along with “Smoker’s World” or “Man-Free World”––but each soul receives an Afterlife Coordinator to help them decide. Imagine the hereafter as one big travel convention in the sky.
It’s all a bit confusing to Larry (Miles Teller), who arrives at the junction after choking on a pretzel at a family party. He’s eventually greeted by AC Anna (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), who gives him a tour of the sprawling, near-infinite, hotel-ish campus littered with brochures and sales people offering their utopian visions. Larry is only undecided because he wants to wait for Joan (Elizabeth Olsen), his wife of 60 years, before choosing a destination for the both of them. After a week meditating on it inside a terminal’s apartment unit, Larry spots Joan walking off the train. The only problem with this unexpected reunion is that Joan’s first husband, Luke (Callum Turner), who died in the Korean War and has waited patiently for her to die, greets his ex-wife at the same time. Now the question for Joan isn’t about where to spend eternity––it’s about who to spend it with.
It’s a classic rom-com set-up––two loves, one choice, and no opportunity to change your mind (lest you end up in a black void). Joan has spent what already feels like a lifetime with Larry, with whom she’s shared countless milestones and events, and whose sole purpose was to make her happy. But seeing Luke for the first time in 67 years is like seeing a ghost, a man representing the alternate reality of her life, the path she could never take. It doesn’t help that Joan’s AC, Ryan (John Early), believes Luke is the clear contender in this situation, feeding her suggestions to court him in their brief decision window while Anna attempts to vouch for Larry and the life they actually established together.
There’s some initial fun in this scenario––Larry and Luke battle each other with verbal digs and physical altercations, each getting the opportunity to take Joan on a date to their preferred eternity location and help her envision their version of the afterlife together. In some ways, it plays like a movie-star finale of The Bachelorette, with Joan contemplating a decision in her room once both dates have concluded. But there’s also an inherent problem with a setup like this: it runs pretty thin pretty quickly, a monotonous circle of arguing, indecision, concerned looks, and anxiety that stalls out the whimsy and momentum and all unique aesthetic possibilities of Freyne’s under-explored setting.
Teller makes sense as Larry: he comfortably wears an older man’s accent, complaints, and history, relying on his signature smile and charm to come off as a reasonable afterlife bachelor. It’s harder to know what to make of Turner as an actor, who’s got the handsome look, the voice, the presence, and nothing suggesting a convincing emotional connection to Olsen. Maybe that’s just good casting. As Luke, he’s more of a memory than a real human being, a six-decade dream of young, innocent love that makes him seem “perfect”––a descriptor Joan uses more than once. Between them, Olsen has the most difficult job, bringing to life a woman who is only defined by the two men she must decide between.
That’s partly what prevents this from attaining the level of Albert Brooks’ Defending Your Life, which built out a similar clinical purgatory but committed to a real sense of narrative and relational momentum. You root for Brooks and Meryl Streep because they’re on the same unpredictable ride. The only clever twist Freyne has up his sleeve is when Joan toggles with the idea of ditching both men for her friend on a getaway to Paris World. And the only consistent comedy comes from Anna and Ryan, whose battling allegiances––and own romantic subplot––provide Eternity temporary relief from its cyclical plot. It’s clear Freyne likes a messy prompt, but like Joan, he just can’t commit to it.
Eternity premiered at TIFF 2025 and opens on November 14
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