The World to Come

In the summer of 1856, the rolling hills and dense woods of upstate New York form a quiet, isolated world where the rhythm of farm life is dictated by the seasons and the lingering echo of loss. The modest homestead, surrounded by fields that stretch toward a distant horizon, feels both a sanctuary and a reminder of what has been taken. Light filters through the trees with a soft, almost reverent quality, setting a tone that is both serene and suffused with an unspoken melancholy.

Abigail lives on this land with her husband, a man whose stoic exterior masks a deep sorrow for the child they have lost. Their marriage, once built on shared hopes, is now weighed down by grief and the daily grind of labor, leaving both partners to navigate a fragile intimacy that seems increasingly out of reach. The house they maintain together bears the imprint of their shared past, yet the silence between them grows louder with each passing day.

When a new family settles next door, Tallie arrives like a breath of untamed wind—her free‑spirited demeanor and keen intellect stand in stark contrast to the farm’s measured pace. Though bound by her own marital commitments, she feels a restlessness that mirrors Abigail’s quiet desperation. Their first encounters are marked by tentative conversations that reveal a yearning for connection beyond the confines of duty, hinting at a bond that could redraw the boundaries of their inner lives.

The film unfolds as a delicate meditation on longing and the search for companionship in a world that offers few outlets for desire. Its tone is introspective, the landscape itself acting as a silent confidante to two women who, amidst the whisper of wheat and the hush of night, begin to explore what it means to be seen, heard, and truly understood.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 00:55