Film Review: Eternity (2025)

David Freyne’s Eternity might be one of the sweetest, strangest love stories A24 has ever released. It’s a romantic comedy about the afterlife, but instead of harps and halos, we get a pastel-colored purgatory where the newly dead wait in line to choose their forever.

Eternity imagines a whimsical, brightly designed after-life “terminal” where souls must choose their eternal destination. Elizabeth Olsen stars as Joan, a woman who dies and wakes up in what looks like a retro convention center for souls. Here, everyone is back to the age they were the happiest, and eternity is more like a theme park than a holy destination.

As Joan explores this surreal space, she discovers that she has a choice to make: which version of love she wants to spend eternity with. One option is Luke (Callum Turner), her charming first husband who died decades earlier in the Korean War. The other is Larry (Miles Teller), the man she grew old with before recently passing away. Both represent different parts of her life, the thrill of first love and the comfort of lasting partnership. Freyne lets her wrestle with the idea that maybe we don’t get to have both.

The setup could’ve easily turned silly or sentimental, but Eternity works because it takes its emotions seriously, even when the world around them feels dreamlike. Freyne fills the film with color and humor, but never at the expense of what’s real. The story moves at its own rhythm, part rom-com and part quiet reflection on the people who shape us. By the time Joan starts questioning what “forever” really means, the movie has already become something more than a love triangle. It’s a story about memory, regret, and how every love, even the imperfect ones, stays with us.

Olsen gives a beautiful, grounded performance. She plays Joan with just the right mix of wit and vulnerability, making her grief feel lived-in rather than abstract. Miles Teller is a standout here too. His character is warm, understated, and surprisingly funny, while Callum Turner brings the kind of reckless spark (and looks) that reminds you why Joan fell for him in the first place. The chemistry between all three feels genuine.

Freyne doesn’t rush anything. He lets quiet moments breathe, whether it’s a look across a glowing room or a pause before a hard truth. That patience gives the story weight, even when it dips into the surreal. Sure, the pacing drifts in places, but that feels intentional like eternity itself stretching out just long enough to make you think.

By the end, Eternity leaves you with the kind of ache that’s hard to shake. Not because it’s tragic, but because it feels honest. It suggests that love isn’t really about forever, but about the small, beautiful pieces we carry with us, wherever we end up next.