I don't usually record my movie-going thoughts, but the trailer for this movie beguiled me. This was the kind of imaginative romantic fantasy that I love, with odd doors and sat-navs that take you on a journey into your past. The cast was amazing, with two of the most attractive leads in the industry. I was so looking forward to seeing the film.
Then the reviews came in. The critics hated it, awarding it a low score of 42 on Metacritic, based on an aggregate of 39 reviews (as of September 29, 2025). My heart sank. Mark Kermode on his podcast kept repeating, 'it just didn't work'. I didn't bother going to see it the week it opened. Then Edith Bowman on her podcast said she enjoyed it. She accepted that the critics didn't like it, but she found it beautiful.
So I decided to make up my own mind.
A Monday night screening at the Showcase, Paisley, seat reclined, half a pouch of Revels to devour, I got comfy, determined to keep my eyes open despite a bout of insomnia the previous night. The cinema was practically empty with fewer than twenty audience members. When I purchased the tickets, the two seats next to me on either side were empty. The Showcase has a ticketing rule that prohibits leaving a gap of only one seat. Yet I find a gentleman with his wife sitting in the seats next but one to me. I want to tell them they are in the wrong seats, but don't. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter. Not with the cinema this empty.
The adverts are playing. Like a gentleman, he asks his wife if he has time to get them anything before the film starts. She exaggerates, advising him that he has at least an hour before the movie begins, so he heads back to the lobby, returning during the trailers with snacks and a drink. His seat hums as it moves into full reclining mode. The trailers come to an end. The film starts. Lying back, he takes a sip of his drink. And chokes, coughing all over the film opening. As he composes himself again, he informs his wife in a normal speaking voice that the liquid went down the wrong way. And chuckles, in a most irritating and loud manner.
He continues to cough intermittently during the opening sequences of the film. I lean on my elbow and cover the side of my face, blocking him from my sightline. I try to ignore him and enjoy the movie.
Margot Robbie is beautiful. She's stylish, fun-loving and has a killer smile. Anyone would fall for her if she wanted them to. Colin Farrell is handsome, albeit with an unshaven look that hints at his character's low self-esteem. The cinematography is striking, and the music is gentle and magical. They're given umbrellas to attend a rainy wedding scene. He won't dance. We see an outsider's view of both their bedrooms, side by side, with him alone and her with a random guest. So far, so good, as romantic movie narratives go.
Whenever anything vaguely amusing is said or a funny image is presented, the husband on my left chuckles loudly. Not as the joke is played, but after a brief delay. His late chuckling becomes a feature of his viewing pleasure and a growing irritation to me. Why does he have to be so loud? He can't help himself. It's part of who he is.
As the film progresses, I'm not convinced by the relationship between the two leads. It's not the direction or the script that's the problem: it's the miscasting. They don't have chemistry. There's no spark. As two characters who prefer to be alone, it could be suggested that this was the intention; however, the audience needs to feel that they should be together. The age difference is an issue. He's 47, she's 33 at the time of filming. It might have worked better if someone like Anne Hathaway had played the Sarah role. I'd have found her more convincing. Not that Margot was bad. She handled her side of the storyline perfectly well. Their character flaws may have been scripted too large for the actors to overcome. I don't know. To quote Mark Kermode again, it just didn't work.
At the end of the film, I'm left feeling sad and disappointed that the critics were right. I can't help but overhear the husband say to his wife, "I could get used to this (in reference to the recliner). Maybe we should get one for the house." The wife replies, sincerely, "Maybe we should". They leave holding hands. Their movie-going night was joyful.
Who is to say whose experience was right?
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