Time travel is one of the coolest devices used in sci-fi to set up an awesome story. The very idea of being able to travel to another time is fascinating for any number of reasons, and the implications of it have captured the minds of writers, philosophers, and everyday schmucks like you and me. And while numerous movies have been made on the subject, ranging from dark and grim sci-fi to hilarious hot-tub-based comedy, most seem to follow the same basic formula of what happens when you travel through time.
Generally speaking, there are few downsides to traveling forward in time, other than maybe being eaten by a Morlock. Going back in time opens a can of worms in which the worms have been replaced with shit and you open it while you're going over a speed bump so you get shit all over your clothes, maybe even in your mouth. It's pretty gross. You'll see it again and again in movies -- the things you do in the past affect the future/present. But usually it's really straightforward. You go back in time and stop a robot from killing John Connor's mom, you hump John Connor's mom, you become John Connor's dad. That's very simple and direct and in no way deserves to be questioned further. But every so often, you find a movie where the repercussions of traveling through time are way more fucked up than you would have guessed.
Arguably the best time travel movie of all time, you may question why I would include this film. I'm not making fun of it; we all know it's awesome. It's the reason you care about Michael J. Fox -- no one liked Family Ties and we all know it. Tina Yothers? Fuck off. And it's the reason anyone ever wanted a DeLorean. It's pretty much the perfect '80s movie. However, in terms of the physics and repercussions of time travel, it does serve up a curious dose of what-the-fuckery.
If you recall, Michael J. Fox DeLoreans himself back to 1955, when his parents were destined to meet and bone and produce him and the rest of his family, only his presence screws that whole timeline up and his mom wants to put the hump on him. It's incestuous hilarity at its finest. But as a result of his mother's drop-of-the-hat whorishness, he's jeopardized his entire existence, a fact that is made head-scratchingly apparent by a fading family photo. Or, to put it another way, one erases himself from existence in a process of slow transparency manifested in photography and then finally reality. That's how time travel works here.
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MILF! MILF! MILF!!
There's long been a paradox in time travel called the grandfather paradox. If you go back in time and kill your own grandfather, effectively stopping yourself from being born, how can you go back in time and kill your own grandfather? This is Back to the Future's way of handling that paradox -- translucent photography. No asking why it would happen, or the simple spontaneous destruction of a no-longer-logical timeline. The universe doesn't implode, or unravel, or produce a series of exponentially more complex and unlikely alternate dimensions to handle the influx of impossibilities presented by the reality of a person unmaking history. Instead you slowly fade away, have an anxiety attack, and introduce a small town to Chuck Berry until your parents agree to pork and then everything is fine.
Making fun of an Adam Sandler movie is a bit like wiping your ass before going to the bathroom, but this is a special circumstance, so please forgive me. In this case, we're concerned with his selfish-oaf opus Click, in which the sinisterly off-putting Christopher Walken offers Sandler a mysterious remote control to make his life easier. Unlike numerous other Sandler films, this one features a love interest who is a hot chick who should be out of Sandler's league, plus a role given to a washed-up icon from Sandler's childhood. I mean just like every other Sandler film. Just like.
Like all light-hearted comedies, this film is about selfishly ignoring those around you and missing out on important life events until your soulless, uncaring demeanor alienates you from everyone who ever cared about you and you die sad and alone. Stop slapping those knees, there's more article to read!
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"Why the hell am I famous? Say no to vaccines!"
Sandler's character gets his eerie time-manipulating powers at Bed, Bath & Beyond. The remote lets him control the universe in much the way you'd control your laserdisc player. Still got one of those? I do. So he uses it to fast forward over the boring shit in his life, or the bad shit, and eventually his entire life gets away from him because he was never there to experience it. At the end he loses everything he had.
How any character with half a brain could get stuck in this terrible situation is the key to even understanding an Adam Sandler movie. Most of us would probably think "Cool!" at first, use it once, realize we had no idea what just happened and would never get that time back, and have an existential panic-fueled crisis. This is time travel that causes you to lose your life in small, digestible bites, over and over, until it becomes uncontrollable. Who would ever do that? What could the possible benefit be of knowingly passing up life events when you have no idea what you might be missing?
I'll tell you what the benefit is -- shtick from Rob Schneider. Is that what you want? Would you travel through time for that? Of course not. No one would.
What a crock of shit we have here. Specifically we're dealing with 2001's Tim Burton abomination and, of course, we only need concern ourselves with the ending of the movie, because holy shit. Holy balls of viscous, semi-solid feces. Start shaking your head now, you'll need it for later.
So in this movie, Mark Wahlberg chases a space monkey. The space monkey travels through this weird rift in space-time, and all the other lab monkeys end up falling through it, too, and the result is a planet inhabited by smart-ass monkeys. And when Wahlberg arrives, in a distant future, it's the Planet of the Apes. Cool enough -- a science experiment goes wrong, we have smart monkeys. I get that. You get that.
Shit happens, there's a model, there's weird sexual tension with a monkey girl, and finally Wahlberg escapes so he can come back to Earth (because this monkey planet 100 percent was not Earth) and found his burger restaurant and make the world a better place. Except, when he goes back in time, to Earth -- so he traveled through space and time to a time and a place where there were never any smart monkeys at all -- he finds the Lincoln Memorial is now a monkey memorial. What? Say it out loud, right now. What?
"This is some straight up bullshit."
Time travel offers up any number of reasonable paradoxes beyond what we've already mentioned. For instance, if you take an iPhone back to yourself in 1980 and you then invent the iPhone, where did the original iPhone come from? There's also the idea that whatever you think you're doing to influence the past is impossible, because it's actually what already happened in the past and it's not changing anything, it's making everything happen as it already did happen. And then there's fuckin' Monkey Lincoln.
The ending of this film literally makes no sense. If anything, it robs sense from other places to fill the sense void it creates and still gets no closer to making sense on its own. Time travel in this movie basically has no goddamn rules at all. It allows for the proliferation of pan-galactic monkeys and sight gags that have no business in any potential reality or timeline.