By 
My Oxford Year (2025)
One year can change everything.
Adapted from Julia Whelan’s popular novel, My Oxford Year arrives on Netflix with the promise of sweeping romance, picturesque backdrops, and a tragic edge designed to tug at the heartstrings. Directed by Iain Morris, best known for comedies like The Inbetweeners (2008-10) and The Festival (2018), this latest outing proves he can handle drama and sentiment competently, even if the end result is more polished than profound.
The story follows Anna De La Vega (Sofia Carson), a driven American postgraduate who defers a lucrative Wall Street position to pursue Victorian poetry at Oxford. For Anna, the year abroad is meant to be a résumé booster, a brief detour before real life begins. Things shift when she meets Jamie Davenport (Corey Mylchreest), a handsome, occasionally arrogant young man who quite literally splashes into her life during a rainy Oxford morning — his sports car sending a wave of water that soaks her completely. Later that day, Anna ducks into a chip shop to regroup, only to find Jamie there, too. Their first real meeting plays out over fried cod and chips: Anna sharp-tongued and defensive, Jamie amused and disarmingly apologetic. It’s not a shouting match but a volley of witty barbs, the sort of playful sparring that immediately sparks chemistry. The kicker? Before the day ends, Anna walks into her first tutorial class only to discover that Jamie is her assigned tutor — replacing the original instructor she expected to have. The revelation reframes their earlier banter into the start of something far more complicated.
Proof Sofia Carson could read the phone book and still light up a scene.
Carson is easily the film’s strongest asset. Fresh from her growing list of streaming titles — Purple Hearts (2022), Carry-On (2024), The Life List (2025) — she anchors the film with likability and sincerity. Even when the dialogue edges toward cliché, she makes it feel lived-in, embodying Anna as both ambitious and emotionally vulnerable. Mylchreest, best known for Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story (2023), makes a fine foil, his clipped English wit gradually giving way to melancholy. Together, they make for an appealing pair, even if the screenplay rarely offers them lines we haven’t heard before.
The supporting cast provides color and depth around them. Dougray Scott plays William Davenport — Jamie’s father, with whom he has a complicated relationship — while Catherine McCormack portrays his mother, whose easy-going manner offsets William’s strictness. On Anna’s side, her Oxford cohort add vibrancy to the quieter moments of study and play: Charlie Butler (Harry Trevaldwyn), her flamboyant and endlessly witty roommate, brightens scenes with comic energy; Maggie Timbs (Esmé Kingdom) brings an understated, grounding presence; Tom Sethi (Nikhil Parmar) is another classmate who injects humor into their Oxford escapades; and Cecelia Knowles (Poppy Gilbert), part of Jamie’s world, initially regards Anna with suspicion before gradually becoming an ally. Together, they flesh out the collegiate atmosphere, providing Anna with a genuine circle of peers and foils.
The subtext here: Netflix really knows how to rent a castle.
The Oxford setting is deployed to full effect, giving the romance an aura of postcard perfection. Candlelit halls, stone cloisters, lazy afternoons punting on the Thames — it’s all here, bathed in soft golden light by cinematographer Remi Adefarasin, Elizabeth (1998). At times it feels less like a lived-in university and more like a glossy travelogue, but it’s hard to deny the visual appeal. The production leans into Anglo-chic fashion as well, dressing Carson in tweeds and scarves that complete the aspirational image.
Where My Oxford Year falters is in its reluctance to take risks. The screenplay, adapted by Allison Burnett and Melissa Osborne, follows familiar genre beats: career versus love, destiny versus duty, fleeting joy versus looming heartbreak. As the film progresses, Anna and Jamie agree to keep things casual — “just fun” — until deeper emotions surface. When the late-film reveal of Jamie’s hereditary illness arrives, it feels inevitable rather than devastating, a twist we’ve seen handled with greater subtlety elsewhere. The second act bogs down in repetition as Anna and Jamie circle familiar conversations about responsibility, while the third act’s tragic turn lands with a sense of obligation rather than raw emotional punch.
Morris’s direction is clean and functional, though not especially daring. Scenes unfold with efficiency, the editing keeps the pace steady, and the score swells predictably with strings and piano at each emotional beat. It’s professional, but rarely inspired. The film aims to be bittersweet, a reminder that even brief encounters can change us, but it never digs as deeply into its themes as it could. Questions of class, identity, and cultural dislocation are slightly raised but quickly set aside, with the film far more interested in delivering glossy romance than digging into weightier ideas.
When poetry becomes pillow talk.
Still, there’s an undeniable comfort to be found in a film that knows its lane and stays in it. My Oxford Year doesn’t challenge, but it does charm. Carson’s likability carries the film through its generic stretches, and Mylchreest brings enough warmth to make the central romance believable. For viewers in the mood for an uncomplicated love story set against a picturesque backdrop, it scratches the itch. For anyone seeking emotional depth or originality, it will feel like an essay cobbled together from familiar notes.
Running just under two hours, the film feels overstretched, leaving a faint ache rather than a lasting impression. It’s a good film, not a great one — generic in execution but buoyed by its leads, its spirited supporting cast, and the irresistible Oxford scenery. Sometimes, that’s enough.
3 / 5 – Good
Reviewed by Dan Cachia (Mr. Movie)
My Oxford Year is currently streaming on Netflix
