(courtesy IMDb (c) Paramount+)
There is a trick, a gloriously clever and grounded trick, that sits at the heart of all the very best romantic comedies or romcoms.
On the surface, and this is true of any story which looks flawlessly simple and easy but which is anything but when you disassemble its working parts, romcoms looks like light and fluffy confections, full of promise, hope and fuzzily romantic air, dreams awash in what-ifs and wouldn’t-it-be-lovely moments.
And while that is very true, at the heart of the ones which leave you feeling something real long after the final credits have run, sits palpably real and honest humanity, the kind that exposes the fact that behind all of the rose-tinted, confected romantic aspiration lies a very vulnerable need for connection.
This has been true down through the ages but likely never more so, at least for current generations than in the year or two right after the COVID pandemic, which is precisely when Two Years Later is set.
An Australian production set in Brisbane, Two Years Later takes us into a post-pandemic world where workers like tech writer Emily (Phoebe Tonkin) and forensic accountant Ryan (Brenton Thwaites) have just reconnected for the first time in two years when they get back on the suburban bus they both used to take to work in the city.
For an indeterminate period of time before lockdowns meant no one went anywhere major for any meaningfully long or sustained periods of time, Ryan and Phoebe gently flirted during their daily commutes, and while neither said it at the time (it is the stuff of reunion confessionals, especially in this show), these time-constrained conversations were easily the highlight of their days.
That only becomes profoundly apparent to them as they both head into the office for the first time years and are delighted to find the person for whom they had no contact details sitting on a near-empty bus in the seats they always occupied way back when.
The natural thing as this point would be to pick up right where they left off, maybe with a little more awkwardness since all the flirting and familiarity muscles would be rusty from lack of us, but Two Years Later goes way out into the narrative deep end with Brenton asking Phoebe to marry him.
Yup, just like that.
It’s a wildly unrealistic conceit, though grounded in the idea that Brenton’s devoted grandparents, Lorna and Morgan (Heather Mitchell and Roy Billing respectively), with whom he lives for reasons that are affectingly revealed in the show’s perfectly-formed and emotionally nuanced eight episodes, went on only eight dates over two months before they got married.
Not engaged to be married; MARRIED.
At first glance, and this would be noted by the more sober, planning obsessed souls among us more than the more rose-tinted, impetuous action-inclined, a ridiculous idea but one that takes root at the beginning of Two Years Later, its narrative richness and sincere emotionality resting in the fact that Ryan is so sweetly and gently earnest about the whole thing.
Rather surprisingly Emily agrees to the idea, with the more sober-minded soul with some real baggage weighing her down – what it is is revealed during the first few episodes with Two Years Later not wasting time spinning red herrings and hints when blatant and well-used truths will work far more effectively – and so the two unlikely but it turns out perfectly suited souls start on an unusual experiment, one that seems fanciful at first but which quickly become anything but as time goes on.
Two Years Later packs a LOT into eight 24-27 minute episodes, managing to take its protagonists, and by extension viewers who become very invested very quickly, on quite the ride, one which has some delightful romantic highs and swoon-worthy moments of genuinely transformative connection, but also some very meaty darker sides of life which beautifully highlight the fact that even the most promising and lovely of things come with bumps in an otherwise heartwarming road.
Rather than dive headfirst in with red hearts popping everywhere and flowers filling every room, though those elements are metaphorically there for sure, Two Years Later chooses to focus on what lies behind Ryan’s outrageously ambitious proposal and Emily’s surprising acceptance and involvement.
Every episode focuses heavily and with real emotional effect on what happens to two people when the wonderful prospect of real enduring connection is agreed to and reached for, and how they navigate the various landmines of past hurt and trauma on the way to something which has the distinct possibility of healing all that.
It’s not easy road, nor one without significant challenges and there’s always the very real prospect it will go disastrously badly off the rails, but Two Years Later knows that what Ryan and Emily are in this for reasons that go way beyond an outrageously out-there idea and right into the heart of who they are and what they want from life.
It’s this focus on raw, honest humanity, anchored by some particularly heartfelt performances which will seize your heart and then some in ways that are quietly powerful, and which makes Two Years Later such a beautifully meditative show to watch.
There’s so much going on and it could have so easily been all confection and melodramatic upping of tension and horribly contrived plot points, but Two Years Later avoids all that entirely, going deep down beyond all the heartwarming romantic promise (though that’s there and it’s a delight to see) and giving us a spotlight on the desperate need for connection that we all need and often crave.
It’s the substance and the truth behind all the gushing romantic moments and fluttery heart beating, and it makes this beautifully put-together romcom an absolute cut above the ordinary which stays with you long after the credits and reminds you that you can have your Hallmark moments and real humanity with each enriching the other and serving moments which feel deeply real and yet fancifully hopeful too.
Two Years Later streams on Paramount+