In Time Review

Fox's recent streak of delivering above-average genre fare, like Rise of the Planet of the Apes and X-Men: First Class, comes to a very disappointing end with writer-director Andrew Niccol's misfire, In Time.

Given the impressive talent employed on both sides of the camera, In Time could have been a shot in the arm that the genre needs, one largely devoid of original sci-fi ideas backed my major studios. Instead, the movie delivers a low-tech, low-wattage lovers-on-the-run thriller, executed with lead actors who make up for what little chemistry they have by running a lot and looking good while doing it.

The world of In Time operates under Ben Franklin's adage of "Time is money." People stop aging at 25 and their digital green arm clocks countdown whatever time is afforded them. The rich get wealthy by hording years in their vaults, while the poor cheat, steal or kill to last another 24 hours. Once your clock runs out, you die.

Will Salas (Justin Timberlake) is our hero, literally living one day at a time as he tries to survive in one of many Time Zones the world has been carved into. Will's is the ghetto of Dayton, plagued by gangsters called Minute Men, lead by Fortis (Alex Pettyfer). Will helps Henry (Matthew Bomer) evade Fortis' goons and, in exchange for his good will, Henry gives him 100 years of life and tells him a secret: The system is corrupt, there's plenty of time to go around.

Armed with this information, In Time lurches into chase-movie mode, as Will sets out like Robin Hood to steal from the rich and give to the poor in an attempt to change the world. Will targets New Greenwich millionaire Phillipe Weis (Vincent Kartheiser), wins a substantial amount of time in a game of poker and falls for Weis' daughter, Sylvia (Amanda Seyfried), a rich girl who thinks more about really living than actually doing it. Their relationship takes an abrupt twist, as Will and Sylvia become the Mickey and Mallory of Time Bandits, robbing bank after bank with "Timekeeper" policeman Raymond Leon (Cillian Murphy) hunting them down.

In Time tries to do for Will and Leon what The Fugitive did for Richard Kimble and Sam Gerard. But we don't care about Will the way we did Kimble; hell, we don't really care about anyone here. Timberlake and Seyfried are serviceable but not engaging, Murphy looks bored and Pettyfer comes off as nothing more than The CW's version of Tom Hardy.

In Time lacks true urgency, overcompensating with a forced sense of it. Everything feels undercooked and subdued, a problematic tonal choice. It feels this way because Andrew Niccol directs everything with the bare minimum of personality. His sterile Dystopia is the same all-leather and sunglasses one we've seen before, and better, especially in his own Gattaca. His characters speak in either trailer-friendly lines of dialogue or pointed "time" puns. (Lines like "Clean your clocks" and "don't waste my time" are used to the point where they could spawn their own drinking game.)

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The inspired premise also suffers from an obviously limited production budget. In Time is largely set in and around the never-mentioned city of Los Angeles. With so many understated locations, In Time's minimalist future noir comes off like a very expensive student thesis film. The few signposts we get that we're a few tomorrows from now come via the sound effect of a car engine here or a door hiss there.

What's most surprising is how wasted the talents of cinematographer Roger Deakins and costume designer Colleen Atwood seem. How can a movie shot by the guy who filmed No Country For Old Men look so...lifeless? Not helping matters further are the questions the movie actively dodges: How does the body stop aging at 25 while the mind keeps aging? Why did society stop inventing things outside of Life-clock tech? And why are the only cars 1970s Dodges or 1980s Lincolns?

Niccol's latest attempt to unleash a near-future on us is anchored to themes the filmmaker often explores: Mortality, evolution and making the most of what limited life we have. (Water even returns as an obstacle symbolic to characters' emotional triumphs). But Niccol poses the big ideas here better than he executes them. They are given surface attention at best, told through character sketches inhabited by actors who deserve better.

In Time is frustrating not because it's an awful movie, but because it misses so many opportunities to be a good one. You want this movie to work; the pieces are here for that to happen. But each passing scene just can't connect. The last thing a movie like this should do is have you checking your watch the way the characters check theirs.

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