Based on Sophie Cousens’ novel of the same name, and adapted for the screen by the author, this opens with a twinkly tourism-office-style visit-London-for-the-festive-season montage that lets us know from the off that the film will be playing by 1990s romcom rules. You know the sort of thing: a declaration of love delivered against a pressing deadline ideally involving a change of location. As This Time Next year progresses, it quickly becomes apparent that said rules have been thoroughly studied, to mostly satisfying effect, as from the get-go the story hits the expected beats. You’ve got heroine Minnie’s initial antagonism towards her love-match Quinn, a loser boyfriend who must first be seen through and ditched, and of course heartwarming subplots involving careers and family. And getting to see the comforting formula followed faithfully is exactly why you would want to watch the movie, so it’s a job well done.
The actors have been taking notes from the same playbook as the script. Lead Sophie Cookson gives us a very plausible blend of Renée Zellweger and Keira Knightley mannerisms circa the early 2000s. Lucien Laviscount smoulders effectively as the almost-too-perfect leading man. Will Hislop continues the consistently fun work he’s been doing in a small role as the dickhead boyfriend (no British actor is embodying millennial bell-end quite as skilfully right now). One real highlight, who will hopefully see more work off the back of their turn here, is a relative unknown: Charlie Oscar, who knocks it out of the park in a small role as a bakery assistant who somehow sits in the precise middle of a Venn diagram between Bubble from Absolutely Fabulous and the Emily Blunt character in The Devil Wears Prada.
One area with room for improvement is, sadly, the chemistry side of things. Minnie and Quinn obviously like each other, once past the obligatory initial hurdles, but do they want to tear each other’s clothes off? Does their passion burn with the fire of a thousand suns? Will anyone’s heights be royally wuthered? And does it matter? Perhaps it’s better if the media presents us with a relatable range of different chemistry types, from warm mutual attraction to the thermonuclear hots. So if you’re hoping for the crackle of electric carnal compatibility that could short-circuit the National Grid, there are other films that would deliver more, but if you’re looking for a sweet will-they-won’t-they-of-course-they-will, this amiable romcom should fit the bill.
• This Time Next Year is on digital platforms from 3 June.
