In a motif reminiscent of The Terminator, Henry resurfaces without clothes and is in constant search of attire and shelter. While there is no shortage of asses in this film, we are, however, spared the long expository sequences often needed to explain time travel and its consequences. There is no “Doc” Brown needed to make sense of it all, although we learn that Henry’s travels may be triggered by stress, and that there is geographical and sentimental significance to the places in which he appears.
The sentimental portion kicks in as we are introduced to Clare, the titular wife and artist played by Rachel McAdams. Their courtship plays out in parallel, disfigured chronologies; a five-year-old Clare first meets an adult Henry, while a slightly younger Henry meets an adult Clare decades after she’s already fallen in love with him. As confusing at it may sound, these sequences are relatively straightforward — we understand Henry’s placement in time by way of the shortening and peppering of Bana’s aforementioned mullet.
And thus a romance is established, and plays out with more ease than you’d expect considering the circumstances. Yes, they experience the typical problems couples face when engaging in a long-distance relationship, as well as the triumphs and tragedies associated with their attempt to conceive a child, but we are only offered hints of their marital problems despite the premise begging for more.
Bana and McAdams display a fine chemistry and add as much to their characters as possible, although the script doesn’t give them much to work with. It may be no coincidence that the premise sounds much like a version of The Notebook by way of Ghost; its screenplay was adapted by Jeremy Leven (of the former), and Bruce Joel Rubin (of the latter). As is often the case with films adapted from lengthy novels, character development is sacrificed in favor of plot, so, instead of detailing the complexities of how Henry and Clare’s romance can survive, the film invites us to witness their delightfully wacky wedding ceremony and countless dates gone awry due to Henry’s condition.
Time Traveler’s Wife is set in Chicago and was filmed in gorgeous interiors and dream-like exteriors draped in burnt hues. The film works to not to allow the audience to ask the questions that naturally arise from its premise, and lines about eternal love and destiny are tacked on at the end of each scene in case we have any curiosity as to what motivates these characters. Like a pit bull trained to attack, the movie’s soundtrack has its strings constantly set to swell. As subtle as the time-travel aspect of this film may be, there is nothing ambiguous about its tone — any conflicts that begin to arise between the couple quickly fizzle out in favor of cooler heads and syrupy proclamations of devotion.
So yes, it may be curious that Henry is able to use his abilities to pick up a winning lottery ticket for his wife and yet unable to save his mother from a fatal car crash when he is a child. And it may not be clear to what extent Henry understands when and where he will travel to, either. But by accepting that he has a condition that facilitates his time travel, we waive the right to dissect and attempt to explain the trivial matters that accompany it, and the filmmakers do not owe us an explanation. Though in the absence of questions not asked about the mechanics of time travel are questions about the mechanics of Henry and Clare’s relationship. How do these characters make it work and who are they beyond strong, likable romantic archetypes? It’s these questions that we deserve answers for and for which the film cannot account.
Ed. Note: This is the first post by new film contributor Alex Czysz. For more reviews of the summer's biggest movies, check out the CL Movies & Television site.
There’s always a problem with time travel. It isn’t the disruption of the space-time continuum, or the existential questions posed by our entering and exiting the chronological confines of which we are bound, or even the very question of what time is in and of itself. Ultimately, the problem is whether or not we can accept the very concept of time travel. If so, there's no turning back, and no questioning the structure of internal logic posed by the author. It is — as the saying goes — what it is.
All things considered, the chronological mechanics in Robert Schwentke’s The Time Traveler’s Wife (based on the recent bestselling novel by Audrey Niffenegger) are coherent enough. Eric Bana (sporting a rather distracting mullet for a good portion of the film) stars as Henry, a librarian afflicted with a rare genetic disorder called Chrono-Displacement which causes his involuntary disappearance from the present and subsequent reappearance in another segment of his life-line.
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