So go ahead. Queue it up. Watch Rosie drop the toothbrush. Watch Alex smile in the hotel lobby. Let it hurt. Because the only thing worse than watching two people waste twelve years, is wasting your own two hours pretending that timing matters more than truth.
The genius of the film lies in its use of the audience as a voyeur of dysfunction. Director Christian Ditter forces us into a position of omniscience. We see the unopened email. We hear the phone ringing in the wrong room. We watch Lily Collins’ Rosie smile through the pain of a pregnancy scare while Sam Claflin’s Alex boards a plane to Boston. love rosie watch
Love, Rosie reminds us that timing is a liar. It tells us that "later" is a myth. And as we watch Rosie and Alex finally, mercifully, look at each other without fear, we aren't just watching a movie. We are taking notes for our own lives. So go ahead
Because deep down, Love, Rosie is not a romantic comedy. It is a horror film about the fear of saying the wrong thing. When you watch Love, Rosie for the first time, you are an optimist. You believe in the letter. You think Rosie will make it to the airport on time. You scoff at the idea that she would marry Greg, the man with the perfect teeth and the hollow soul. You are innocent. Watch Alex smile in the hotel lobby