Last Words (2020)

Last Words is special because it treats science fiction not as a playground for spectacle, but as a tender, poetic meditation on what we leave behind—and why stories matter when everything else is slipping away. Set in a quiet 2085 where humanity has stopped having children, it follows a small, disparate group drawn to Athens under the gaze of Jo, a young narrator determined to make what might be the world’s final film. The result feels like an allegory told in soft light: intimate, human, and deeply affectionate toward cinema itself, as if filmmaking were a last form of shelter. It’s a gentle, reflective experience rather than a plot-heavy thriller, but if you’re open to a heartfelt end-of-the-world reverie, it lingers like a final, beautiful reel.

Last Words is clearly aiming for a reflective, end-of-the-world fable about legacy and storytelling, using the “last film” idea as a poetic hook. The problem is it often feels like it’s drifting rather than building: the pacing is sluggish, the narrative threads don’t connect cleanly, and the execution can come off confusing in ways that aren’t rewarding. If you need tight world-building, believable logic, or a clear plot spine in your sci‑fi, this will likely test your patience and feel longer than it is. That said, if you’re open to a mood-first, arthouse approach and can enjoy the occasional striking image or idea without needing it to fully cohere, there’s something quietly interesting here.