All of You – Film Review

William Bridges’ All of You is a quietly ambitious science fiction romantic drama that threads together the speculative and the deeply personal. Co-written and co-produced by Brett Goldstein—who also stars—the film is less about futuristic technology and more about the ways modern love collides with human imperfection, choice, and regret. While the movie occasionally strains under its own thematic weight and melancholic pacing, it offers a heartfelt meditation on what it means to believe in fate while trying to remain faithful to the people we become along the way.

The film’s conceit—a scientific test that identifies one’s true soulmate—feels deceptively simple, but Bridges treats the premise with a restrained realism that sets it apart from traditional sci-fi romances. The company behind the test, Soul Connex, is never framed as dystopian or sinister; instead, it’s integrated naturally into the fabric of society, much like social media or dating apps. This allows the story to focus on emotional consequences rather than technological marvels.

Laura (Imogen Poots) and Simon (Brett Goldstein) are introduced as longtime best friends, their chemistry undeniable from the start. Bridges avoids obvious romantic shorthand, instead letting their bond reveal itself in small gestures—quiet laughter, long glances, the ease of shared history. When Laura decides to take the Soul Connex test and is paired with Lukas (Steven Cree) instead of Simon, it triggers a series of events that ripple through decades of friendship, longing, and loss.

Rather than turning the film into a melodrama about betrayal or unfulfilled love, Bridges grounds it in a deeply human sense of emotional realism. Simon’s skepticism of the test mirrors our own, while Laura’s faith in it becomes a mirror for her yearning for certainty in an uncertain world. The narrative balances these opposing worldviews delicately, suggesting that love might be less about destiny and more about timing.

Goldstein delivers one of his most introspective performances to date. Far removed from his charming, acerbic Ted Lasso persona, his Simon is defined by quiet suffering and emotional honesty. Goldstein’s strength lies in stillness—every hesitation, every slight smile hides years of repressed desire. His performance gives the story its emotional gravity, grounding even the film’s most speculative moments in believable human behavior.

Imogen Poots, meanwhile, brings warmth and complexity to Laura. She captures the contradictions of a woman torn between her romantic idealism and her real-life responsibilities. Her portrayal resists simplification; Laura is neither villain nor victim but a fully realized person whose choices—right or wrong—stem from understandable fear and hope. Poots and Goldstein share a natural, lived-in chemistry that makes their dynamic simultaneously comforting and excruciating to watch.

Supporting performances also elevate the film. Steven Cree’s Lukas, the man deemed Laura’s “true match,” is played with an understated dignity that keeps him from being a mere obstacle. Zawe Ashton, as Laura’s friend Andrea and one of Simon’s later partners, injects the narrative with bittersweet levity, while Jenna Coleman, as Simon’s confidant Dee, offers a quietly perceptive counterpoint—someone who sees Simon clearly even when he refuses to see himself.

One of the most intriguing aspects of All of You is its refusal to turn Soul Connex into a clear villain or savior. The film never outright declares whether the company’s technology is accurate, and that ambiguity becomes its emotional engine. By blurring the line between empirical certainty and emotional truth, Bridges forces the audience to confront a difficult question: if science could confirm your perfect match, would you want to know?

Bridges and Goldstein’s screenplay uses the test not as a plot device but as a philosophical question. The narrative examines how belief in a “true match” can both free and imprison people. For Laura, it offers validation; for Simon, it becomes a life-defining wound. This tension gives the film an aching resonance, one that lingers beyond its closing frames.

The science-fiction framing also allows All of You to comment subtly on contemporary relationships. In an age of algorithmic compatibility and data-driven romance, the film’s speculative premise doesn’t feel far-fetched—it feels eerily plausible. Yet Bridges keeps the technology understated, emphasizing human emotion over spectacle. It’s a testament to his directorial restraint that the film feels futuristic without relying on visual gimmickry or exposition-heavy dialogue.

Visually, All of You embraces a muted, reflective aesthetic. Cinematographer Benoit Soler employs natural light and intimate framing, giving the film an almost tactile sense of melancholy. Interiors feel lived-in and imperfect, while the few glimpses of the Soul Connex world are sleek yet clinical, emphasizing the contrast between sterile certainty and messy emotion.

The score by Ian Hultquist and Sofia degli Alessandri is understated yet haunting, composed mostly of delicate piano and ambient synth textures. His music underscores the emotional tension without overwhelming it, guiding the audience through the film’s many moments of silence and hesitation. Bridges’ direction leans heavily on those silences, letting glances and pauses communicate what words cannot.

At times, this quiet restraint veers into sluggishness. Some scenes linger too long, stretching emotional beats past their breaking point. The pacing, particularly in the film’s middle section, may test the patience of viewers expecting a more traditional romantic arc. But even in its slower passages, All of You maintains an honesty that feels rare in the genre.

What makes All of You compelling, despite its flaws, is its understanding that love often resists logic. Simon and Laura’s connection transcends labels or algorithms, yet the film refuses to romanticize their inability to be together. Theirs is a love story defined by missed chances, ethical compromises, and emotional endurance—a relationship that feels truer to life than the typical soulmate narrative.

Bridges doesn’t offer tidy resolutions. Instead, he ends on a note of quiet acceptance. The final moments, played with devastating understatement by Goldstein and Poots, suggest that maturity sometimes means walking away—not out of indifference, but out of love. The film’s closing image lingers not as heartbreak, but as grace.

While the film’s emotional realism is admirable, its intellectual ambition sometimes overshadows its dramatic urgency. The philosophical discussions about love and destiny, though thought-provoking, can feel repetitive by the third act. Likewise, the nonlinear storytelling—moving between different years in Simon and Laura’s friendship—adds texture but occasionally muddles emotional momentum.

Still, these imperfections are part of the film’s sincerity. Bridges and Goldstein seem less interested in delivering a neatly structured drama than in capturing the ebb and flow of human connection over time. For every moment of narrative confusion, there’s another of profound, unguarded truth.

All of You is not a sweeping romantic epic or a hard science fiction spectacle—it’s something quieter and more introspective, a meditation on the intersection of emotion, ethics, and inevitability. William Bridges crafts a film that feels both speculative and deeply familiar, capturing the tension between what we want to believe and what we must accept.

Though uneven in pacing and occasionally too muted for its own good, the film’s sincerity and emotional intelligence make it resonate long after the credits roll. Brett Goldstein’s performance anchors the film with rare vulnerability, while Imogen Poots provides a heartbreaking counterbalance.

All of You may not offer easy answers, but its honesty and quiet melancholy make it worth the journey—a love story for a future that looks uncomfortably like the present.