Review: You Can Live Forever (2022)
When overwhelming desire meets an unfortunate mismatch of beliefs
When you live in a space where you are accepted because what you look like, what you represent, or what you believe is considered the norm, sometimes it’s easy to forget that for anyone outside of the narrow parameters of western society’s definition of normality, how incredibly difficult it is to live their truth.
You Can Live Forever is enlightening in the way that it shows us how oppositional views are belittled or challenged every day. Public discourse about ‘difference’, whether that is a difference in our sexual preferences, gender expression, ethnicity or ability, is more widespread (and that’s not to say that these discussions are all helpful - not by a long way), but what about when someone’s entire belief system is at odds with what you believe to be the truth? How tolerant are we, really?
When Jaime (Anwen O'Driscoll) is sent to live with her aunt in a Jehovah's Witness community in Quebec she quickly forms a close but strained friendship with Marike (June Laporte). Through a gripping narrative between these two young women, we see what happens when overwhelming desire meets an unfortunate mismatch of beliefs. As their forbidden love grows, the burning tension and creative attempts to make it work are precariously alluring. Watching their secret and somewhat reckless relationship grow into something special feels dangerous, especially given the level of dedication we learn is expected of Marike from her strict and devout family.
Not only are the girls’ consciences dealing with questions about whether a woman loving a woman is sinning in the eyes of God, but the stern approach to parenting also means that even spending a small amount of time with another person who isn’t a Jehovah’s Witness raises eyebrows. All eyes are on them, and despite having reservations about the family’s philosophy, Jaime makes some moral sacrifices in order to see where their friendship could go. It’s an inordinate amount of pressure on a new relationship, which goes some way to prove just how strong their bond is - and this comes through in the performances beautifully.
Though the lens in which we see their relationship blossom is always gentle, there is often an undercurrent of torment present too. In particular, Marike’s hope to live in a world where she can proudly be the person she believes she needs to be for God, as well as the person who gets to spend her life with Jaime, the girl she is falling for, helps the audience to create an affinity with her, or at the very least to empathise with the sensation of dealing with conflicting and complex feelings.
Most of us can identify with a situation where you have to choose between two things that you want, but this is an exceptional circumstance with a captivating character, who we are desperately willing to come out at the end as emotionally and spiritually unscathed as possible. Marike is composed through many a tricky situation, even when faced with scepticism and disbelief, but her inner turmoil does overspill on one occasion with her telling Jaime that she can “believe enough for the both of us.” It’s tragically romantic, and not to mention commendable, that her head isn’t turned away from God despite having demonstrably strong feelings for this other person in her life.
Lesbianism and religion on film isn’t new, but the layers of tension and unanswered questions that directors Sarah Watts and Mark Slutsky pose in this eye opening drama provide audiences with a renewed sense of realism. It’s not a case of ‘What if?’ because those answers are spelt out for us in broad daylight, but more a case of ‘In another life..’.
You Can Live Forever gives a slice of life style insight into what it’s like growing up in a Jehovah’s Witness community and household, and positions us to deeply feel the heartache of the main characters as their incompatibility causes irreparable rifts. Better still, it is an intensive study of human connection, and the characters are nuanced enough to impart the confusion, frustration and necessary elation that comes with falling for someone that you ‘shouldn’t’.
Verdict: Based on the personal experiences of co-director Sarah Watts, YCLF is sensitive and hard-hitting. This is queer cinema at its finest.
Overall? ⭐⭐️⭐⭐1/2
Big screen appeal? 🎬🎬🎬🎬
Accolade eligibility? 💡💡💡💡
Study-worthy? 📚📚📚📚