You Can't Tell Me That Miles Teller Is Not Hot

When I went to watch Eternity, I was not prepared for how wholesome it would be. For a movie that followed all the romance tropes to the tee, there was something particularly warm and gooey and perfectly corny about it that could have hit the spot... except it asked slightly too much of me.

I couldn't suspend my disbelief.

So, for those of you who haven't watched the movie, Eternity is about Joan who, after her death, ends up in the afterlife where she must choose between spending an eternity with her husband, Larry, of sixty-seven years or her first husband, Luke, who died sixty-seven years ago.

The problem is that Joan's choices aren't equal. You have her hot husband Larry (Miles Teller) with sixty-seven years of history and memories together, and then you have her first-husband Luke (Callum Turner), equally hot but with barely any memories.

Out of the two of them, there is only ever one clear answer. I mean, why would you choose the empty slate? It's not like he was hotter, although the movie tried in every way to make Teller look like the less attractive one. I just felt removed from Joan's conundrum. Her uncertainty made no sense to me.

Alright, alright, you're probably yelling at me for missing the point. I mean, I get it. The whole question was Joan having to face the possibility of Luke, something she never was able to explore. He was the literal manifestation of her deepest, darkest desires, the young man out of those romance books that swept her off her feet. Whereas Larry was reality.

Goodness gracious.

I still don't think that the choices were fair. There needed to be more at stake. Maybe less of an age gap. Maybe more personality from Luke. I think that was the main issue. Joan knew more about Larry. She had an actual relationship with him, whereas Luke was basically a stranger. They tried to show some kind of relationship between the two, but the plot had him die so early on that I never felt like I understood the chemistry between the two. Luke was a hot-bodied blob. He had only one thing going for him, which was the fact that he waited sixty-seven years for her, kind of frozen in time.

If they'd given Luke a bit more time before he died, if they'd at the very least shown some personality compatibility between him and Joan, maybe the stakes would have been higher. Then, it'd make sense why Joan would falter between the two.

As it is, Joan even considering Luke never feels like it means anything.

Anyways, hear me out; what if the premise was more fun?

Like, what if both guys were equally ugly? What then?

Love Is ... kinda, sorta, not really... Blind...?

Joan always knew she was going to settle. It wasn't an insult on the poor fellow who'd catch her eye, but Joan knew where she stood. No gorgeous eye would look at her; she knew what she had to offer. She knew her place. There wasn't much that attracted her in this bustling sea of blob fish and frilled sharks. Besides, all the pretty people were untouchable, really. In the pool of mediocrity, all she could hope for was an unassuming kind of romance, one that remained tethered to reality.

Anyways, she married Larry. It was a tediously slow love story, one that took a lot of convincing on Joan's part, but that's how she liked it. He never caught her eye, but she caught his. Which, if you think about it, is all that matters.

Larry wasn't much to brag about. He lived a normal life with a bare minimum kind of job that nobody remembered, but at least it brought enough for a moderately nice place. He was never really fit, and over the years that had become more apparent. Although, in theory, Larry had a sense of fashion, his body never learned how to wear the styles right. Something about him always looked unkempt.

Sixty-seven years passed by, and Joan could finally say with confidence that what she felt towards Larry was nothing short of love.

Now he's gone, six-feet deep.

Joan sighs, placing a trembling hand on his tombstone. What was the last thing he said? Joan was slightly embarrassed to admit that she couldn't remember.

"You'd be making fun of me now, I know it," she rolled her eyes.

She remembers the last thing she'd been thinking. It was a horrible thought, one that she knew would haunt her forever. Joan saw Larry holding that plate of cake, and something about the way his wrist bent inwards grossed her out enough to yearn for her ex-husband, Luke.

Luke had solid wrists. He'd never bend his wrists like that.

To be fair, Joan tried not to think about Luke that much. He died when they were both young, only a few months into their marriage, most of which he spent abroad in the war. Now that was a handsome fellow. At least how she remembers him. He had lovely, piercing blue eyes.

Larry's were dark and deep, which was what she loved the most about him. It was where he kept all of his emotions.

"It didn't mean anything, I swear," Joan's lips trembled, "I love you, you know. I love you the most."

Still, even as she whispered the words in her old voice, something about Luke fluttered in her periphery like a dark, forbidden apple, crimson red and shiny.

In Lieu Of Death

So, it turns out Joan's not as saintly as she thought she'd be.

"This is hell," she gasps, eyes flickering from one face to another, "This is my hell, isn't it?"

"No, no," her afterlife coordinator, Anna, laughs, "This is your afterlife. Afterlife. Got it? No hell or heaven. That's not a thing here."

"No," Joan shakes her head. The walls spin slightly. She wishes she could sit down, "No, this is hell. This is hell, Anna. This has to be my own, personal hell."

"Hey," Larry's eyes flicker with hurt.

He looks much younger now in the afterlife. Somewhat trimmer, although a gentle belly dumps itself over his belt, which he wears way too tightly. His hair is fading a little bit, which surprises Joan. She thought he'd have chosen a younger age, one with a full head of hair, not his bald-spot, porn-stache phase.

"That's not what I meant," Joan backs away, unable to say anything else. The words get all jumbled up. Her back hits the railing.

If she jumped, would she die again? The possibility seems tempting, but Larry's not the only one watching her.

Luke stands beside him. He chose a much younger age. One where his hair is thick and luscious in its curls. Oh, how she loved those curls. But... She didn't remember how soft he looked. He didn't have that chiseled jawline that she always remembered. He looked rounder. Babyish. His slacks hung weird on him, making him look dumpy. There was a sheen of sweat glittering over his face. Did he always have that mole?

"Joan," Luke stumbles over his words; something about the way that he speaks sounds so childish. The intonation, maybe? It makes Joan believe him less. Luke licks his lips before continuing, "I waited sixty-seven years for you."

Joan's heart skips a beat at the sound of that. Larry groans and rolls his eyes.

"Oh my god, I'm married to her, kid," he reaches towards Joan but Joan deftly sidesteps him.

"So am I," Luke retorts, holding out his left hand which still carries the ring, "And I'm not a kid."

What is she supposed to do? Her heart pounds. Her legs shake. How old is she anyways? Maybe thirty, which means she'd be married to Larry for years, but there's no ring on her finger.

"You were married to her," Larry argues.

"So were you," Luke snaps.

"How old are you? Eighteen?" Larry glares at him, "She could be your mother."

"I chose twenty-eight! How old are you? Eighty?" Luke leers.

"I'm thirty-two!" Larry's face turns bright red.

Not that any of this makes sense; Joan's just not sure how to deal with the disillusionment of it all, now that she's here and they are standing in front of her as real as can be. There's too much unedited here, outside of her memory. Too much to point fingers at and feel dissatisfied.

It concerns her that none of them are dissatisfied with her. They stare her down with such devotion and admiration that it makes her nauseous.

"Tell him, Joanie," Larry reels her in, "Tell him."

Tell him what? That she never imagined her life this way, facing the consequences of settling? She chose too young. She never even left her hometown. How was that fair? Luke and Larry were basically neighbours, is what she discovered years into her second marriage. What if everything she'd chosen was just based on proximity? What if she'd chosen neither of them and walked a different route back home? The thought haunts her.

She recalls the numerous times Larry grossed her out. Was it love looking past that? And Luke. Luke was perfection in her mind. What the hell was this? Afterlife Luke wasn't even all that tempting. Which was a bummer. He looked like those ducklings you'd find in their late adolescence, feathers not fully formed, eyes wide and curious. What did she ever like about him? He smells like someone dumped an entire bottle of cologne on him.

"Joanie!" Larry snaps. The tone makes her cringe. He was so, goddamned irritating.

"What?" Her dress feels too tight, too form fitting. Luke coughs, trying to suppress a smile.

The memory/dream she used to have was different. Everyone was different in it. It wasn't even Luke, Joan thinks to herself. At most, in her mind, he'd become some blended variation of Steve McQueen. This Luke, standing in front of her, trying — and failing— to suppress his giddiness, had to be some kind of joke.

She could choose herself, but living an eternity on her own also felt silly. What was she going to do? Play solitaire forever? No, at least Larry and her liked doing things together. Yes, he was annoying as hell and they bickered so much, but Joan enjoyed that.

"Or," Anna interjects her train of thoughts. Joan looks up to see her pointing at yet another man across the room, "You could choose him."

That man was incredibly attractive, straight up a model. His clothes sat on him perfectly, in the exact style that Joan loved. He walked over, smiling to reveal a set of dimples scoring down his cheeks.

"Hello," his voice was immaculate and smooth.

"Who is that?"

"Man of your dreams, personality, looks and all," Anna smiled, "This is the afterlife, Joanie. You get what you want here."

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