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13 hours ago
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The premise of Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield’s film We Live in Time doesn’t scream “romcom”: a woman in her 30s falls in love then gets a stage three ovarian cancer diagnosis. No wonder audiences have flooded cinemas with their tears. While critics have called it contrived, hearts have been won over by the leads’ natural chemistry, its local south London charm (albeit a bristling privileged one) and – in case you’re confused about the comedy part – a very funny birth scene in a petrol station toilet.
So far, so weepie. But for fellow thirtysomething women, there is a less obvious part in the story that gets under the skin – one that romcoms rarely dare to explore: the decision to be or not to be a mother.
When ambitious chef Almut (Pugh) starts dating Weetabix salesman Tobias (Garfield), she casually, but crucially, says she’s not bothered about having a baby. A few weeks later, he brings it up because “kids really are my thing”. “It’s just different isn’t it, meeting someone at our age. The clock is ticking,” he adds. “It would seem to me preferable having a moderately awkward conversation now than a completely destructive one in five or 10 years’ time.”
Her reaction? “I’m sorry but what the actual fuck are you even talking about right now? … I don’t know, I’m like back the fuck off.” It’s understandable – a 34-year-old woman really doesn’t need reminding of “the clock”, and how infuriatingly unfair that women need to declare “yes” or “no” while they’re trying to get shit done, while men can be unsure for nearly a lifetime.
Neither is right or wrong in the argument, though: this is a very difficult, very real conversation that most daters and couples in their 30s have – especially when birth rates are rapidly declining, as the number of women freezing their eggs rises. Even both child-free stars have publicly shared their own experiences: Pugh said she’s always wanted kids, and that she froze her eggs at 27 after getting a polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) and endometriosis diagnosis; Garfield said he has released himself from “the societal obligation of procreating by the time I’m 40”, (thankfully) adding that “obviously it’s easier for me as a man”.
That scene might not be a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her, or a hot human rights lawyer telling a hot mess TV journalist that he likes her just the way she is. Its romance is in its realness – with the added schmaltz of Tobias’s reply when Almut asks what the rush is: “Because I’m worried there’s a very distinct and real possibility that I am about to fall in love with you.” (Or emotional manipulation, depending on your cynicism.)
He accepts her decision, but things get more complicated down the line when Almut is diagnosed with cancer: after it goes into remission, she is told that a full hysterectomy would reduce the risk of cancer returning, or she can save an ovary at the cost of increasing risk. They are forced to have the conversation again, but this time Almut thinks differently: maybe she’s now into the possibility of having a child, if it means having one with Tobias. Suddenly, it is her mission to get pregnant as soon as possible, and they decide to try IVF. They eventually have a baby and it morphs into an examination of motherhood, identity, women “having it all”, and, well, love.
This all triggers a mind-boggling, messy internal conversation about the question of motherhood that not many films attempt. It hits a thirtysomething woman’s nerve that most romcoms think too uncomfortable to even touch. What do I want? Will I change my mind? How long have I got to decide? What if something unexpectedly upends it all? It might feel slightly disappointing that she has to have a “valid reason” – finding the right man – for not wanting kids, rather than her simply not wanting them (why is this never reason enough?). But the point is: cancer diagnosis or not, she’s allowed to change her mind, all women are and many women do.
We’re so used to seeing the Richard Curtis married-with-kids happy ending, or the story stopping before the new couple even needs to consider those things. But what about the years of conflicting thoughts, painful conversations and tough decisions that women often endure before their “ending” – with or without a child. That is the reality of most romantic relationships. Is Hollywood challenging these murky questions that modern women want to see?
It has been teased before: in When Harry Met Sally, when Sally explains why she broke up with Joe. When they met, neither wanted to get married or have kids – it ruins relationships. “We can have sex on the kitchen floor and not worry about kids walking in, we can fly to Rome on a moment’s notice.” But Sally changes her mind: they never did those things anyway, the kitchen had “a very cold, hard Mexican ceramic tile”. “I said this is what I want; he said well I don’t.” A couple of years later, he tells her he is engaged.
More recently, in The Worst Person in the World, after saying she was unsure about having a child with her partner, Julie has a miscarriage in the shower and is elated with relief at seeing the blood – the decision being taken out of her hands. That said, it’s worth noting that she’s in her late 20s.
Looking ahead to more bold and nuanced explorations, there are high hopes for the adaptation of Melissa Broder’s novel The Pisces, which was announced in 2021 with Claire Foy as the lead. On the surface, it’s the story of a woman who falls in love and has a sexual relationship with a merman (yes, really) – but it’s really about a woman in her late 30s who has hit rock bottom under life’s pressures and expectations.
“Part of my casualness with the question of having children was that I sensed how lucky I was that I could one day have the choice if I wanted. I liked that that day was very far off. The distance felt luxurious,” her protagonist confides in the book.
“I had secretly judged women who regretted never having children and were no longer of the age at which they could have them. I judged them, perhaps, because I feared becoming one of them. But now, at 38, my time was beginning to run out. I still didn’t want a child. I didn’t know what I would do with a child if I had one. But I missed having that open space before me in which I decide.”
There is both great fear and great comfort found in these words, which many women are too worried to say without judgment, or can’t even begin to articulate. How glorious it would be to see them shared aloud on screen.
