One of the most enduring notions in the cinema of romance is that of a love which survives centuries. From the decades of will-they-won’t-they between Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara to the parallel storylines of The Notebook to the “oceans of time” crossed by Gary Oldman’s Dracula, there is something almost primally appealing in the notion that romantic yearning transcends time, and even mortality itself. Timestalker, the wry new reincarnation comedy from writer-director-star Alice Lowe, presents this formula with a twist: what if that one great love– the one whose devilish grin and tousled locks you manage to seek out across all lifetimes– kinda sucked?
When we first meet Lowe, she’s a lowly textile worker in 17th-century Scotland. In a moment of revelation she lays eyes on her true love, a dashing accused heretic played by Aneurin Barnard… only to die instantly and messily in an ill-advised attempt to rescue him from the gallows. We then jump forward a half century or so; now Lowe is a French noblewoman and Barnard is the rakish highwayman who robs her stagecoach, but their illicit romance is cut short by her loutish husband (an unhinged Nick Frost). The cycle continues through the ages, on up to the longest segment, set in 1980. Here, Barnard is an Adam-Antian New Romantic pop star named Alex Phoenix, and Lowe– in full lady-of-the-eighties, big-hair-and-shoulder-pads drag– is determined to have her man once and for all. But is she really reuniting with her eternal love, or is she just a deranged stalker with a head full of woo-woo?
The premise of Timestalker is clearly reminiscent of Rowan Atkinson’s Blackadder, but Lowe puts a personal and self-deprecating touch on the material. Part of the fun is in recognizing the recurring elements which pop up from lifetime to lifetime; in addition to Lowe, Barnard, and Frost, there’s always a supportive female confidant played by Tanya Reynolds, a puckish onlooker played by Jacob Anderson, and a red canary in a variety of period-appropriate cages. The main attraction, however, is Lowe herself. Lowe is perhaps best known as the triple-threat behind the 2017 BUFF opener Prevenge and the co-writer and star of Ben Wheatley’s Sightseers, as well as her roles in Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace and Edgar Wright’s Cornetto trilogy. Here, as in Prevenge, she crafts a persona for herself– dizzy and self-absorbed, but shot through with a very real sense of yearning and anxiety. The result is a film that feels undeniably human, even as it spirals into absurdity.
As mentioned earlier, the funniest conceit of Timestalker is the fact that Barnard, in all his guises, is singularly uninspiring: a nebbishy, guyliner-wearing dweeb who isn’t worth dying for once, let alone dozens of times across the centuries. His French bandit is entirely ineffective, desperately begging his victims to spread the legend of “Alex O’Nine Ribbons” (because he has nine ribbons tied around his pants, see). His pop star incarnation, meanwhile, is so vain and petulant that his manager is all too happy to let his perhaps-deranged stalker backstage to meet him. It’s a great joke, and Barnard plays the role(s) perfectly, but it also cuts to the heart of the film: when it comes to obsession, the object itself is often beside the point.
Those looking to Timestalker for a Monty Python-style riot might walk away somewhat disappointed; like Prevenge, despite its outre premise, the film strikes a low-key and occasionally meandering tone. But there are some great moments of dark comedy (there’s an assassination gag which made me laugh out loud), and comedies this inventive and personal are rare. Alice Lowe is a unique voice in movie comedy; hopefully we won’t have to wait another lifetime to see what she has in store next.
Timestalker
2024
dir. Alice Lowe
89 min.
Screens Friday, 1/31 through Tuesday, 2/4 @ Brattle Theatre
