Time waits for no man, yes, but In Time sure had some hesitation issues, didn’t it? In Time has one of the great premises of 2011: a future dystopia in which time is money. People wear built-in green LCD clocks on their inner forearms. The clocks always count down; you get a year once you turn age 25. When the numbers show 13 zeros, you expire. Everything, and I do mean every single solitary thing, is paid for in time – cups of coffee, bus fare, meals, luxury items, etc. And you can give time or take time from others.
Well this is just fascinating, ain’t it? Is there any way to “make time” other than the year you get when you turn 25? Oh, and people don’t age, not in appearance at least, once they hit 25. It’s a very pretty population. Grandmothers (who manage to stay alive) look no older than debutantes. This bothered me. Sure, a population where people max out at 25 is going to be prettier in general than one in which people get old, but not everybody would pretty, would (s)he?
Fifteen minutes in, I’d already collected a series of questions:
- What kind of population voluntarily subjects itself to a Logan’s Run scenario?
- Why is everybody so pretty?
- How do children function? They can’t buy anything and they’re dependant on people whose clocks are constantly expiring.
- How does a body just “die” when time runs out?
- How does the clock know when to start? What if you have that disease in which you age too fast?
- How are hours earned? I mean, how can anybody stockpile years? Especially when you consider each year is the very last in one person’s life.
- Can the government dole out hours like money (must be the case, although I see no evidence here)?
The solution seems pretty easy when you think about it: everybody is a robot. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. In Time won’t tell you that, but it will get you by the first hour. Up to that point, I mostly thought about what I’d do if time were money and constantly counted down; I might go to fewer movies. Or more. I’m not sure. I do know that the incentive to do many things would disappear, and I’d be really pissed if I had to wait in any line, ever.
Anyway, Will Salas (Justin Timberlake) is a slumdog from District 12 who happens upon a suicidal socialite (Matt Bomer) looking for a way out. Will saves him from the local druglord Fortis (Alex Pettyfer – are you kidding me? Alex Pettyfer is your heavy? Really? Wow, we do live in a world full of pretty people, don’t we?) The Samaritanism garners Will a century in time and he uses it to play with the rich kids. Yay. And, in turn, we’re introduced to the “running of the clichés” involving time. Time is on my side; running out of time; time and again; no time like the present.
Something really odd about this society is that the Time-Life renewal expiration date has made everybody a wimp. Excess life is so difficult to come by that people cherish their time to the point of never taking risks. This strikes me as odd. Those inner-city ghettos where life expectancy is short – do the folks there take more risks or fewer risks with their lives? I think it’s universal; if you believe life is short, you make as many reckless moves as you can, don’t you? Robots.
I’m digressing because In Time was a disappointment – you got me thinking about a whole bunch of stuff; then you work the Crank scenario where Will starts playing with his lifeclock constantly. This storyline had merit. Then Amanda Seyfried comes along to remind you that although she’s wearing a wig, her rack is still very impressive. And before long, she and Will engage in a wealth redistribution scheme aiming to take down the entire system. You heard correct: fantastic premise, oppressive Big Brother-ish future and we move on to a Robin Hood tale. That sound you hear is the sound of robbing a rich plot device and handing it to another film.
There had to be a better way to go with this tale.
Robots.
Rated PG-13, 109 Minutes
D: Andrew Niccol
W: Andrew Niccol
Genre: Dystopia
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Those distracted by the neato sci-fi premise
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: People unsold on Justin Timberlake
