What Dreams May Come (1998)

What Dreams May Come is the rare romantic fantasy that doesn’t just show you an afterlife—it paints one, with images so lush and strange they feel like emotions made visible. Vincent Ward turns grief and devotion into a sweeping, dreamlike journey, and Robin Williams gives one of his most open-hearted performances, pairing warmth with a quiet, aching resolve as love becomes a kind of courage. The film’s heaven-and-hell vision is audacious and painterly, sometimes even unsettling, but always driven by feeling rather than spectacle for its own sake. It won’t be for everyone—its themes of loss and suicide are heavy, and its intensity can hit hard—but if you’re in the mood for something sincere, imaginative, and unabashedly romantic, it’s a film that lingers like a vivid memory.

What Dreams May Come is clearly reaching for a big, sincere swing: a visual poem about grief, love, and the idea that our inner worlds shape what comes after. When it works, it’s because Robin Williams sells the raw ache and the film’s painterly heaven-and-hell imagery is genuinely striking, even if you’re not into fantasy romance. But be warned: the story leans hard into literal, on-the-nose spiritual rules and emotional speeches, which can feel more like ornate greeting-card philosophy than earned drama. If you’re sensitive to depictions of suicide, or you prefer subtle, ambiguous takes on the afterlife over melodrama and sentimentality, this one may test your patience even while it tries its best to move you.