Frankly, Alex probably peaked during his first meeting with Agnes, in 1680 Scotland. He was quite taken with her, but she still dies throughout an unlikely accident. Still, you can see why she might want a do-over. However, Alex the 1790s English highwayman is a slimy user. So is Alex the fading 1980s New Wave pop star. Unfortunately, these are the two time periods Lowe devotes the most time to.
In each of her lives, Agnes quickly recognizes Alex as her man of destiny. Yet, she never seems to mean anything to him. However, the Iago-like Scipio appears to understand Agnes’ fateful dilemma, at least to a partial extent.
Timestalker is sort of like the Orlando spoof we never knew we needed, because we obviously didn’t. Lowe had much more success translating British “kitchen sink” aesthetics into genre films like Prevenge and Sightseers, which she co-wrote Ben Wheatley. This time around, she leans into cringe, with swiftly declining marginal returns.
At times, Lowe captures a hint of cosmic mystery, but what the film does best is simply reminding viewers how Sally Potter’s Orlando is such a better film. Perhaps, part of the problem is a structural imbalance. The narrative spends too much time in 1790 and the unspecified early 1980s, while the 1940s and futuristic segments are sketchy in a tacked-on afterthought kind of way.
Admittedly, Lowe shows no fear portraying Agnes, fully committing to her meltdowns and neurotic angst. However, aside from Scipio’s devilish wit, the jokes have the subtlety of a two-by-four to the head. There was maybe a promising idea at the start, but the execution is muddled and the visual look is often rather drab and muddy. Anyone intrigued by the premise should revisit Orlando instead. Not recommended, Timestalker opens today (2/14) in LA at the Monica Film Center.
