How A24’s ‘Eternity’ Uses Color To Make Love Feel Alive (And Why Colorist David Tomiak’s Work Is The Film’s Secret Weapon)
From its opening moments, Eternity announces itself with confidence, charm, and an almost mischievous sense of control. The film does not ease the audience in. It invites them fully, immediately, and without apology. As I said after watching it, “There’s not many movies that hit me off the bat like, wow… within the first ten minutes. Really setting the tone. Chef’s kiss.” That tone, whimsical, emotionally precise, and visually intentional never wavers. What makes Eternity feel so refreshing is its refusal to treat love, death, or the afterlife as heavy-handed concepts. Instead, the film leans into lightness without losing depth. Color becomes a language all its own, guiding emotion long before dialogue does
David Tomiak is the colorist on Eternity and the co-creator of Elemental Post, a boutique post-production studio based in Vancouver, Canada. Elemental Post specializes in high-end color grading, finishing, and editorial support for award-winning auteur films, with projects premiering at major festivals including Sundance, TIFF, and Cannes. It’s the kind of studio built around intention rather than volume – which becomes obvious the moment Tomiak talks about his work.
Looking back on Eternity, Tomiak described the project as the kind of experience creatives hope for but don’t always get. “It was so fun when we were doing it,” he told me, explaining that there was a shared excitement leading up to the film’s release. “It feels like a classic rom com in that way… and to be able to be a part of that, it’s just a breath of fresh air.” What stood out to him most was that the film never treated love or connection as something ironic. “When a film doesn’t take itself too seriously,” he said, “there’s a joy that’s involved in that as well.”
That sense of joy is embedded in the film from the opening sequence. I told David that the color language immediately felt curated, almost emotionally instructional before the plot even had time to unfold. There’s a moment early on, during the opening drive, where the framing and the classic tone are so precise they almost make you pause. It’s the kind of visual balance that feels deliberate in a way that’s hard to ignore, like you’ve seen it before. David spoke about the comparison with appreciation rather than resistance. “There was no kind of talk throughout the whole thing about one director necessarily,” he explained, but he understands why people see it. “You have that car shot and it’s perfectly framed and it’s a classic blue, and it makes it feel like that in that way.” What people are responding to, he suggested, isn’t imitation, it’s intention.
“Everything was so thought about,” David said. He was brought on early in prep so the team could “look at different textures and tones in the color room” and build a visual foundation before production even began. That preparation allowed the filmmakers to keep making creative decisions on set without losing cohesion. Instead of locking the look down too early, the process encouraged momentum – if we like this idea, let’s try it; let’s keep going further.
Rather than anchoring the film to a single modern reference, the visual language drew from classic filmmaking more broadly. David described pulling inspiration from films like The Graduate and The Apartment, not to replicate their look, but to echo their emotional clarity and restraint. Even though The Apartment is black and white, its tone and feeling were a major reference point. “We kind of tried to pull from all these different elements of classic filmmaking,” he said. With that North Star in place, the team kept adding and refining, allowing the film’s beauty to emerge naturally rather than be imposed.
That philosophy becomes especially important in moments where the story could have turned visually harsh -particularly around Larry’s death. I told Tomiak how struck I was by the softness of the gender reveal scene, even though it contains such an abrupt loss. He explained that Eternity was never interested in visual trauma. “We always knew that the film wanted to stay bright,” he said. Even when referencing heavier moments, the goal was to maintain lightness rather than shock.
He pointed to a distinctly 1990s influence, where primary colors were allowed to pop while the surrounding atmosphere stayed restrained. “The reds pop and the pinks pop,” he said, “but the atmosphere doesn’t necessarily have the same vibrancy.” That balance allows the scene to remain peaceful instead of punishing. The transition into the afterlife reinforces that same idea. When Larry enters the tunnel, the world doesn’t turn dark or ominous -it becomes overwhelmingly white. When I asked whether that moment was meant to represent death or rebirth, Tomiak paused. “I didn’t really think of it in either of those contexts,” he admitted. For him, the moment was about surprise. “The music actually speaks to it more,” he said, noting how the score immediately signals something light and casual.
One of his first priorities in that sequence was Larry’s skin tone. “We wanted it to pop,” he explained. “All of a sudden his skin tone has a lot more saturation… it comes alive.” Any feeling of rebirth, he said, emerged naturally from those choices rather than symbolic intent. As the film opens up into the Junction, color becomes more expressive -but never chaotic. Tomiak explained that the decision to prioritize contrast over realism was made immediately. “We knew right out the gate we wanted a high-contrast palette,” he said. “The question was always: have we gone far enough?” While many reference films were shot on celluloid, Eternity was shot digitally, making those contrast decisions even more deliberate.
That discipline carries through every environment in the film. Each booth, bar, and world has its own palette, down to the pamphlets and signage, yet nothing ever feels overwhelming. Tomiak credited production designer Zazou Meyers for building a world that already understood color before it reached post. In the grade, his focus was finding “that threshold that didn’t feel gimmicky.” “We didn’t want a hundred colors fighting each other,” he said. Anchoring whites became essential -giving the audience a reference point that allowed saturated colors to shine without chaos.
Nowhere is that restraint more effective than in the archive tunnel. The sequence is darker than most of the film, but not threatening. Tomiak described shaping the silhouettes of Joan and Larry as they hold hands, pulling the image down so warm bulbs could glow against the darkness. “It didn’t add fear,” he said. “It added warmth… like a hugging quality.” The darkness isn’t there to obscure -it’s there to focus.
Throughout our conversation, Tomiak emphasized how collaborative the grading process was. The director, cinematographer, editor, and colorist were often in the room together, watching scenes repeatedly with sound. “It feels unconscious because you’re just operating,” he said -but that instinct was built on months of preparation.
One detail that stayed with me was how much attention went into eyes. Making sure Joan’s eye color carried emotion without explanation. “Are we feeling her emotion through her eyes?” Tomiak asked. That question guided some of the film’s most intimate moments.
When I asked which visual moment best captured what Eternity means to him, Tomiak didn’t hesitate. His favorite sequence is when Joan and Karen move through the booths, intercut with the boys in the bar. He loved the contrast between saturated blues and reds and the warmth of the bar scenes. “Everything worked in conjunction with each other,” he said. “The color sells the comedy, but it also sells the intimacy.”
For a film about love, choice, and what comes next, David Tomiak transformed the afterlife into something textured, playful, and emotionally alive. Every fabric, reflective surface, and color choice works together to create a world that feels nostalgic without being precious -and joyful without being shallow.