REVIEW - ABOUT TIME

A noxious romantic comedy from the insufferable Richard Curtis, so twee it's idea of edge is the occasional pensioner dribbling out an F-bomb every once in a while. It guilelessly wields its time-travel aspect for the purpose of designing cheap sentimentality and humour, oblivious to the veritable panorama of plot holes it exposes, and indifferent not only to the logic it broadly betrays but also to its own internal logic. It's an infuriating device in Curtis' hands, who appears to opine that a soppy swoon or a gentle chuckle or a brief sob will purge the sense of feeling cheated, that heart will rule over head. But my heart was never in it. I looked at this pitiful young man, affluent, trim, lucky in love, the son of adoring parents, abusing this ridiculous bounty of time travel with an idiocy surely unbecoming of a lawyer. And I looked at how perfectly his life managed to resolve itself no matter what damage he did, because alas, if you're an idealistic young white male in love in a Richard Curtis film, you needn't worry. It's your duty to fumble and fuss and faff around, to endear yourself to the audience that wouldn't accept you any other way. Everything else will fall into place anyway, so make all the mistakes you must, sir! And isn't that the only honest, true aspect of this putrid film? The lawyer with the sexy wife and the three cute kids and the family house on the beach in Cornwall etc. etc. Your life will resolve itself for you. Your obedient wife, whose only desire is to care for you and furnish your home with children, whom you love and respect so much you withhold from her the most monumental secret in the history of the universe, and your boundless wealth will pick up the pieces. Huzzah for England!