ne of the great joys of my life has been allowing for surprises.” Joan and Larry Cutler are an elderly couple, married for 65 years, bickering about anything and everything as they head to a gender-reveal party. They chatter incessantly, drive much too slowly, and aren’t too keen to tell their children and grandchildren about their secretive, declining health issues. It hardly matters, however, as Larry unexpectedly chokes to death, then awakens in the afterlife aboard a train that ferries him to some sort of judgment facility. And he’s suddenly a younger version of himself (played by Miles Teller), perhaps Larry in his prime, or during his happiest period of life.

“You’re in the junction!” It should be obvious where Larry is, but he’s still somehow confounded, unsure of why he’s in a strange location, surrounded by equally confused people as they wait for guidance. Within a few hours, he’s met by Anna (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), an Afterlife Coordinator, who doesn’t have the patience to humor the newcomer. She has few answers, save for some meaningless brochures, bringing him to what resembles a hotel room – a transition zone – where he must choose the right eternity for himself, represented as various worlds that feature specific themes, such as a nudist world, a world for medical enthusiasts, a world of snow-capped mountains, beach world, and even a man-free world (which is currently all full), each being advertised with a booth like at a job fair. The catch is, once an eternity is chosen, it’s forever and cannot be renegotiated.

The setup is blithe and lighthearted, though it’s not entirely original. But it explores a handful of fascinating concepts, skewering the hollowness of religion and other standard beliefs about death, poking fun at notions about rejoining loved ones, seeing long-dead family members, and even reuniting with faces from the distant past. It may be silly, but it’s intermittently thought-provoking. Problematically for Larry, when Joan (Elizabeth Olsen) arrives at the junction around a week later, she’s intercepted by Luke (Callum Turner), her first husband who died in war, and now works as a bartender – having waited 67 years to see her again. And she’ll have to make a choice … for eternity. “I need time!”

It’s romantic and cheery, but it also presents a pretty striking love triangle – the kind that is so significant that there really won’t be a totally satisfying solution, unless a character assassination of sorts takes place (or a darker revelation randomly turns up). “I’m in an impossible situation.” Ultimately, it’s a fantastical scenario for second chances at life, paired with the conundrum of selecting a partner for that second chance. And it evolves, somewhat disappointingly, into a scheme that resembles a genie granting wishes that go awry. Still, the actors are well-cast, particularly Randolph, who gets all the best jokes; she nicely balances the more serious elements with alternatingly bubbly and crass humor (John Early as Joan’s AC is also a witty persona).

Despite the laughs, it’s undoubtedly poignant, especially when “Eternity” delves into the human condition (something that probably shouldn’t be too relevant in an everlasting paradise). Grief, blame, betrayal, regret, disappointment, obligations, selfishness, competitiveness, complacency, ennui, sacrifices, loss, moving on, and more are bold ideas in a contest of securing or winning a romantic partner – a prize. Interestingly, the design of the afterlife being an unchangeable, single decision with severe consequences for reneging is borderline hellish; it’s certainly not a rewarding, typical concept of heaven, considering that the souls in this functional purgatory retain all the feelings, memories, personality flaws, and sense of time from their lived lives – components that weigh heavily on the analyzation of and possibilities for eternal happiness (a thematic conceit that involuntarily, unconsciously dismisses the complexity of changing values and definitions over considerable periods, and the difficulties of measuring happiness on a scale – or misinterpreting eternal happiness with a single moment of extreme happiness).

Plus, it nearly spoils everything by carrying on for too long, demonstrating an indecisiveness in offering up a precise interpretation of its paradise (or the rules and layouts of that paradise – an optimistic view of something that can quickly transform into a nightmare). But even if the afterlife is in fact a psychological horror show, this comedy/drama isn’t orchestrated to be effectively morbid or profound in that manner; it works best when it remains airy and comical. Fortunately, the finale wraps everything up rather neatly.

– Mike Massie