Richard Curtis’ About Time (2013) is timeless, both literally and in my undying love for it. It is a film following a family where all the males have the power of time travel. While the premise implies a futuristic action or sci-fi thriller, it is in fact a simple story of love. I became infatuated by this film’s austerity, its genuine interest in one man and his desire to be truly and completely loved.
The film’s success, in my eyes, is down to the realism of its characters, who lead very normal lives despite the gift they have been given. What could have been an exploration into what we miss out on in our singular human lives, Curtis instead decides to show the beauty of everyday life—which happens without the power of time travel. The conventionality of the characters, the places they go and their relationships create joy for the audience through relatability and comedy, not through the otherworldly power that exists in their world. Pleasure drawn from the film stems from an appreciation of moments of simplicity and beauty.
The first element which makes this film so loveable is how the familial relationships are presented. It is often that in films with a familial relationship, we do not see mundane presentations of bickering and tensions. Whether this is to appeal to the escapism of cinema or because in fact the director of said film has a fairly normal family, the rest of us feel somewhat unseen. The family in About Time are so endearing because they are undeniably real, and often hold a likeness to our own families. The mother (Lindsay Duncan) is emotionally distant, the father (Bill Nighy) equally so. Lydia Wilson, who plays the protagonist’s sister, “KitKat”, is wonderful, a deep-rooted soul who despite charming appearances goes on to face deep issues in her personal life. Uncle Desmond (Richard Cordrey) is a sweet character, whose presence is always warm despite his eccentricism. While these characters and their relationships aren’t perfect—they are real, natural and relatable. The arguments, embarrassment, friction; it’s all something we see in our own families. It’s hard not to feel attached to such a beautiful, detailed and genuine family on screen.
The sweet simplicity of About Time’s plot further raises its appeal. Protagonist Tim (Domhnall Gleeson) wishes for something universal—love. Rather than the usual grand romantic gestures we see in other romantic comedies, he uses his power of time travel to build a relationship with a woman (Rachel McAdams) he met one night out by chance. The beauty of his endeavour exists in the fact he could have anyone, pursue anyone he wanted, as many times as he wanted, with little reprimand or difficulty. This would, however, deflect from the meaning of love and the entire notion of the film. Richard Curtis looks at love that goes unnoticed—the love Tim has for his family which exists in ping pong challenges and tea on the beach, the love for his work which manifests through helping others, the love for Mary which exists in a proposal on the bedroom floor rather than a restaurant. In each of these cases love is present, without words of confirmation or extravagant gestures. It is within everyone all the time.
This is something else which makes this film so great—the romanticisation of the everyday. While Tim is given a power people can only dream of, he continues to lead an ordinary life. He deals with death and his sister’s troubled life, makes mistakes as a father and a husband and takes risks as a son when it comes to difficult decisions. While he begins by reversing time and ‘fixing’ smaller errors to avoid moments of embarrassment, by the end of the film it’s clear that the larger, more detrimental decisions he makes stay with him, just as they would for the rest of us. Tim cannot avoid the parts of his life which hold emotions of fear, guilt or regret, because he is as much of a human as the rest of us. There are some things we all must go through, and no amount of time travel in the world can ever undo this.
While within much of film-watching and cinema-going, there is a solemnity as the credits roll and a subsequent shift back to our reality, About Time leaves you with an uplifting reminder, from one world to another—we do not possess the power of time travel, nor do we need it. Love is around us all the time, every day. It is a film of ordinariness, with no big twist or surprise ending despite the enormous, transcendental power the family possesses. This is exemplified in the final montage, made up of short glimpses into the quiet lives of others; on the street, in their homes, living and experiencing. Curtis shows us that every day is a gift. There’s love in every day, and it is about time we all recognise that.
Words by India Gwyn-Williams
Support The Indiependent
We’re trying to raise £200 a month to help cover our operational costs. This includes our ‘Writer of the Month’ awards, where we recognise the amazing work produced by our contributor team. If you’ve enjoyed reading our site, we’d really appreciate it if you could donate to The Indiependent. Whether you can give £1 or £10, you’d be making a huge difference to our small team.