So there’s this guy on a train, and he’s caught in a time loop, endlessly reliving the last eight minutes of someone else’s life in order to solve a mystery. It’s funny though, he looks an awful lot like that other guy who was caught in a time-shift paradox, you know the one, with the creepy bunny that was counting down to the end of the world. Only this time, he’s deliberately toing and froing on the tracks time-slip, being sent back by some covert army types, again and again. And he keeps getting blown up. Again and again. See, he’s got a bomber to catch, amid all the mise en abyme coffee spilling and ticket punching, and armed only with his wits, he’ll crack the code, and find the source.
So there’s this guy on a train, and he’s caught in a time loop, endlessly reliving the last eight minutes of someone else’s life in order to solve a mystery. It’s funny though, he looks an awful lot like that other guy who was caught in a time-shift paradox, you know the one, the Iranian cockney who likes to jump around the place with the gaudy letter opener. Only this time, he’s falling for a girl, the one who keeps telling him she took his advice. Except, it’s not his advice, rather that of the tweed’n’leather-patches wearing teacher in which our guy finds himself whenever he catches his reflection. And the clock keeps ticking down, and the army types are getting shiftier, and the bomb goes off, again. But he’s wising up, and piecing together the facts of this sophisticated whodunit, and things are different, but still the same.
So there’s this guy on a train, and he’s caught in a time loop, endlessly reliving the last eight minutes of someone else’s life in order to solve a mystery. It’s funny though, his Dad sounds an awful lot like that other guy who was caught in a time shift paradox, you know the one, the quantum physicist who kept having to put right what once went wrong. And our guy, amid all the exploding, and mystery solving, and falling in love, and figuring out the army types, and dealing with his unresolved father issues, then has to cope with some fairly heavy philosophical musings on the very nature of existence. And listen to Chesney Hawkes, whose one hit wonder has never been more ironic. And the whole thing is fantastic.
This, the latest mind-bending slice of sci-fi, is the second feature of Moon director Ducan Jones, and one thing’s for sure, he has handled the difficult second album with considerable skill. Source Code is not only one of the more clever films you’ll see this year, it is also one of the most beautiful. Offering architecturally elegant views of the Windy City’s skyline, dank industrial sets that disconcertingly shift in size, and breathtaking slow-motion fireballs that destroy everything in their path, this film is a photographic delight.
Its performances too, are very engaging, despite the twisty nature of the elaborate plot, where turns take precedent over people. With Jake Gyllenhaal’s plate so full, it’s a wonder his performance isn’t more bloated, but instead his Stevens is completely assured, handling every task with credibility, be it taking down the baddies as an All-American hero, or fixing Michelle Monaghan with his doe-eyed stare. Gyllenhaal has done action before, but here he also gets the chance to show off his light comedic touch, as well as some profound Rodin-esque thinking. Suffice it to say, the Stath wouldn’t have pulled it off.
The supporting cast, particularly the myriad of train commuters, are also having great fun, making more impact than their piecemeal roles should have allowed, and Monaghan is delightful as the Andie MacDowell object of affection, even if the romance strand is arguably the most neglected of the film. Vera Farmiga also excels as the ice-queen soldier commanding Stevens, a real presence handling the Basil Exposition job with efficiency, and having time to thaw out towards the end.
Source Code is big, brash and brainy, and you’ll want to relive it again. And again.
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