Move Over ‘Materialists’—A24’s ‘Eternity’ Is The Better Love Triangle

2025 has officially been the year of the omnipresent love triangle. Hollywood has hurled so many love geometries our way that even Pythagoras would question might question his life’s work. From the musical chaos of Wickedto the glossy capitalism-meets-romance of Materialists, from Jenny Han’s eternal summer of boy problems to the My Life With the Walter Boys brigade of denim jackets and emotional turmoil, we’ve witnessed every possible combination of “she loves him, but also him.”

So, as the year winds down, it would have been reasonable to assume the cultural obsession with triangles would too. But A24, in classic A24 fashion, swooped in with one last love-triangle story: Eternity. Except this time, the triangle doesn’t begin with a meet-cute or a prom night or a beach bonfire. It starts with death. Because what’s more A24 than asking you to choose between two lovers when your actual life is over?

The plot unfolds with Larry (Miles Teller), who dies and wakes up in a purgatory that resembles a hotel conference center hosting a corporate retreat. Instead of angels or harps, there’s a train station with no departures back to Earth, a hotel perched above it, and a sprawling onboarding hall where agents guide you through your options for eternity—Queer World, Wine World, Outdoor World, Man-Free World. Heaven, here, is less divine epiphany and more customer service counter. Not long after Larry’s arrival, his wife Joan (Elizabeth Olsen) shows up, also dead, also confused. Their tender, nostalgic reunion is immediately complicated by the presence of Luke (Callum Turner), Joan’s first husband, who died decades earlier in the war and has been patiently and painfully waiting for her ever since. Suddenly, what begins as a surreal afterlife setup morphs into a devastating emotional dilemma: who do you choose to spend the rest of eternity with? The man who grew with you — or the man fate kept from you?

What’s striking is how Eternity feels unmistakably A24, but with a softness and clarity that outshines their other 2025 romance entry, Materialists. Where Materialistsis stylish and high-gloss, Eternitychooses heart over sheen. The worldbuilding is imaginative, chaotic, and whimsical, think The Good Place meets Defending Your Life, but with more fake sunsets, conference-hall carpets, and bureaucratic absurdity. Instead of relying on aesthetic maximalism and clever dialogue alone, Eternity grounds its concept in emotional truth.

The acting, too, mirrors that understated charm. Elizabeth Olsen carries the film with a quiet brilliance; she plays Joan as a woman who spent her entire earthly life cushioning others’ needs, only to realise in death that she wants to choose herself for once. Miles Teller brings a surprising fragility to Larry, suddenly aware of his shortcomings, desperate yet clumsy in trying to repair a love he assumed would last. And Callum Turner is heartbreakingly gentle, his decades of longing shaping him into a man made of patience and hope rather than grief. Their chemistry isn’t emotionally explosive, but lived-in. It’s three people trying to navigate the most impossible question in the most absurd circumstance. Even the supporting cast, Da’Vine Joy Randolph and John Early, in particular, inject the film with comedic brilliance, turning the afterlife into a place run by chaotic HR representatives who deserve their own spin-off.

The heart of the film lies in its question: what does choosing a partner for eternity actually mean? On Earth, relationships are fragile and changeable. People grow apart, fall back together, reshape their identities. But in the world of Eternity, your choice is binding. You’re not choosing someone to love for the foreseeable future; you’re choosing them forever. It becomes less about romance and more about selfhood. Do you choose comfort, or do you choose the version of yourself that feels most whole? Joan’s real conflict is not between Larry and Luke — it’s between who she was and who she is now. It’s a true testament to the film’s message.

Eternity is a warm, surprisingly profound afterlife comedy that wears its heart on its sleeve without ever slipping into sentimentality. The film explores death with humour, explores love without melodrama, and explores choice with the kind of nuance most love-triangle narratives can only dream of. It’s equal parts playful and piercing, slipping easily between laughter and longing. 

In conclusion, Eternitystands tall not just as one of A24’s strongest releases of the year, but as one of the most refreshing takes on love triangles in years. It’s imaginative but never saccharine, tender but never cloying, and funny in ways that deepen dagger than diminish its deeper truths. It poses big questions with a light hand and leaves you sitting in the dark wondering — if forever came calling, what kind of love would you choose? And, more importantly, would you finally choose yourself?  

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