10 stars! About Time is the Ultimate chick flick. The love match between Tim and Mary, Domhnall ("DOUGH-i-null") Gleeson and Rachel McAdams, will be a thing of legend. They are not A- list heartthrobs like Pitt and Jolie, but their off-beat adorableness makes them lovable and relatable. We, ourselves, with proper diet and exercise, could possibly be as lovely as they are. So we identify with them from the get-go.
The gag is that Tim and all the men in this family have a special gift of being able to go back in their own past just by wishing to do it (but not the historic past--only the past that they are personally part of) whenever they feel the need to, so that they can redo things, to correct anything that went wrong. Sound familiar? Yes, this is definitely a rip off of Groundhog Day, and some purists may find it to be an artistic no-no to borrow from a film so beloved, but it's not exactly the same because they don't only redo the same day. They can go back to their childhood, or yesterday. Of course, as with all time-travel movies, we have to avoid asking any of those annoying "Butterfly" questions about screwing up world reality, or the reality of what is in the time traveler's mind after he comes back from changing the past. Like what else changed in between? But Tim never changes anything too far back, or world shattering--mostly recent little things, like changing the way he talked to a girl or moving strategically to a different room in order to avoid meeting somebody.
There are two major relationships in this movie: the boy-girl love affair, and the father and son's mutual adoration. We may cry a lot--not for them, but for ourselves, thinking, maybe unconsciously, how much better we wish our father-son relationships were/had been. Boy oh boy! Tim and Dad hug a lot and even kiss and we love them for it. If we can get past our own pain.
Dad doesn't use his time travel power to make a killing in the stock market. (His uncle got filthy rich and ended up miserable and alone.) No, Dad goes back to summer afternoons so that he can read more of the classics than it's humanly possible to read in a normal life time. He's a retired professor. (How did he buy that house? Old money?)
There is one little beef I have with this idyllic tale. This is a privileged family of leisure, with a small mansion on the beach, and they don't have seem to have any of the problems that we huddled masses have (except for the relentless march of time that we are all subject to). They are White, thin, healthy, comfortable, well employed (Tim goes to London to become a lawyer), and they are all able to enjoy games of tennis and walks on the beach and seemingly without any stress from one another or the outside world. Okay, the daughter drinks a bit too much, but the family remains loving and happy like the Nelsons or the Cleavers. (Sorry for the old reference. I'm 62.)
This privileged life allows Tim to worry about girls without being troubled by all the nuisances that may bother the rest of us. And the two leads are so infectiously adorable, and their friends and colleagues are so much fun, that we go on the ride that sails by like a dream. It's a cinematic delight, with beach landscapes, cliffs, the ocean, beautiful homes and apartments in both London and Cornwall, and parties filled with lovely furnishings and sexy lads and lasses. The two lead actors are top-notch, and so is Bill Nighy as Dad. They are so invested in one another, so we smile, we laugh, we get misty-eyed, we cry, and finally, we sob if we are not afraid to, over their triumphs, joys, infatuations, loves, and the pains that even the privileged are occasionally heir to.
I'm glad I watched it at home, alone, because I dread coming apart--like I did--in a crowded theater. I imagine that many manly young men will slake this movie because of how expertly, and relentlessly, it presses one's buttons. But I, for one, think Richard Curtis is a genius, and I'm glad he pressed mine.
The gag is that Tim and all the men in this family have a special gift of being able to go back in their own past just by wishing to do it (but not the historic past--only the past that they are personally part of) whenever they feel the need to, so that they can redo things, to correct anything that went wrong. Sound familiar? Yes, this is definitely a rip off of Groundhog Day, and some purists may find it to be an artistic no-no to borrow from a film so beloved, but it's not exactly the same because they don't only redo the same day. They can go back to their childhood, or yesterday. Of course, as with all time-travel movies, we have to avoid asking any of those annoying "Butterfly" questions about screwing up world reality, or the reality of what is in the time traveler's mind after he comes back from changing the past. Like what else changed in between? But Tim never changes anything too far back, or world shattering--mostly recent little things, like changing the way he talked to a girl or moving strategically to a different room in order to avoid meeting somebody.
There are two major relationships in this movie: the boy-girl love affair, and the father and son's mutual adoration. We may cry a lot--not for them, but for ourselves, thinking, maybe unconsciously, how much better we wish our father-son relationships were/had been. Boy oh boy! Tim and Dad hug a lot and even kiss and we love them for it. If we can get past our own pain.
Dad doesn't use his time travel power to make a killing in the stock market. (His uncle got filthy rich and ended up miserable and alone.) No, Dad goes back to summer afternoons so that he can read more of the classics than it's humanly possible to read in a normal life time. He's a retired professor. (How did he buy that house? Old money?)
There is one little beef I have with this idyllic tale. This is a privileged family of leisure, with a small mansion on the beach, and they don't have seem to have any of the problems that we huddled masses have (except for the relentless march of time that we are all subject to). They are White, thin, healthy, comfortable, well employed (Tim goes to London to become a lawyer), and they are all able to enjoy games of tennis and walks on the beach and seemingly without any stress from one another or the outside world. Okay, the daughter drinks a bit too much, but the family remains loving and happy like the Nelsons or the Cleavers. (Sorry for the old reference. I'm 62.)
This privileged life allows Tim to worry about girls without being troubled by all the nuisances that may bother the rest of us. And the two leads are so infectiously adorable, and their friends and colleagues are so much fun, that we go on the ride that sails by like a dream. It's a cinematic delight, with beach landscapes, cliffs, the ocean, beautiful homes and apartments in both London and Cornwall, and parties filled with lovely furnishings and sexy lads and lasses. The two lead actors are top-notch, and so is Bill Nighy as Dad. They are so invested in one another, so we smile, we laugh, we get misty-eyed, we cry, and finally, we sob if we are not afraid to, over their triumphs, joys, infatuations, loves, and the pains that even the privileged are occasionally heir to.
I'm glad I watched it at home, alone, because I dread coming apart--like I did--in a crowded theater. I imagine that many manly young men will slake this movie because of how expertly, and relentlessly, it presses one's buttons. But I, for one, think Richard Curtis is a genius, and I'm glad he pressed mine.
Tell Your Friends