The film "Two in the Universe" is based on a beautiful analogy: the relationship between the main characters develops according to the laws of astronomy—stars have already burned out, yet scientists continue to study and observe their lives.
Ed is dying but tries to remain present in the life of his much younger lover, Emmy. To do this, he creates a complex system of letters, messages, and video recordings.
One expects a love story to leave a light and pleasant aftertaste, but this film offers something entirely different. The so-called love story is heavy and, overall, unpleasant. Why?
In my view, this is not a story about love but about necrophilia. Ed does not seek real contact with Emmy: they rarely meet, and during their encounters, he hides his illness from her. He constructs a facade of himself for her, one that differs from reality. At the same time, he seeks to control her down to the smallest details, to know everything about her, and brutally invades her personal space, destroying the boundaries of her identity. What emerges is not a relationship but a mechanical, lifeless construct where the presence of a living person is truly unnecessary.
It’s no coincidence that any positive consequences of Ed’s invasion into Emmy’s life felt artificial to me. Meanwhile, her disheveled state, confusion, and complete disorientation in life seemed organic and natural.
Recently, I’ve noticed something similar in real life. Astonishingly, society tends to perceive certain behaviors as deeply romantic, even when, from a psychologist’s perspective, they are far from love and exhibit signs of either a pathological dependency or a refined form of psychological abuse.
