I don't even know how to start writing about a movie like Time Code. I suppose there are two ways to approach it: as a novel experiment in filmmaking or as an unusual story. I suppose my split approach is the type of reaction Mike Figgis, the "writer" and director of the film was hoping for.
It's been said that we Americans have shortened attention spans, and that our media are partly responsible for this. Sesame Street, with its quick cutting, MTV with its almost hyperreal atmosphere, and so on. We talk on the phone while we drive; we use Picture-in-Picture to surf two channels at once; we even watch television while we read. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that someone would make Time Code, a movie that teases us with the possibility of truly multitasking.
Get to the point, riles! For those of you who haven't heard about Time Code, it's a small, independent film that was shot with four cameras in four continuous takes on one afternoon. The screen is divided into four sections, each corner being one of the four cameras, and the story revolves around four main characters who are all involved, in one way or another, in the production of a movie at a small movie studio in Los Angeles.
What makes Time Code so intriguing is that it actually creates a full diegetic world through its multiple cameras. For example, the boredom of waiting (and spying) on someone outside their building is exemplified in the upper left corner, where Jeanne Tripplehorn spends most of the movie in her limousine. The coordination and practice the filmmaking experience must have taken is astonishing, and just trying to picture these actors staying in character for 90 minutes while these steadycams slide in and out of rooms, avoiding each other, it boggles the mind.
Some might be tempted to look at this film as an artistic experiment, a way to utilize the possibilities of the new media to make film more panoptic, more … whatever. I tend to lean toward the idea of Time Code as an experiment in storytelling. The possibilities for each of the characters become much more rich when they each get ninety minutes of screen time. At the same time, this film demands multiple viewings. For example, the "main" plot of the film moves completely out of the upper-right corner of the film for at least the last 30 minutes, at which time an entirely different story develops. I have to admit that I was too wrapped up in the rest of the film to watch it, but next time, I hope to try.
Most interesting, I thought, was the introduction of the young starlet who proposes her own filmmaking experiment, much like Time Code. Figgis is obviously referring to himself here, but what is he saying? I'd like to say that he is undermining those "pretentious" critics would herald Time Code as a theoretical breakthrough, as a "new era for film." I think Figgis wanted this to be a story-told-differently, not a concept film.
Aside from its fractured method of storytelling, Time Code told an unusual story as well. Perhaps the best part was the stellar characterizations within the film. Everyone, from the big-name actors like Stellan Skarsgard, Selma Heyak, and Jeanne Tripplehorn to the smallest parts like the mousy assistant or the up-and-coming director (played by the "what country do you think this is?" parking attendant from Ferris Bueller's Day Off), gave stellar performances. This may have been because of the high level of improvisation that was necessary within the film.
Despite the strong acting, however, I didn't enjoy the story as much, on a purely enjoyment level, as I did other fractured films such as Run Lola Run or Pulp Fiction. Time Code does have the advantage, however, that it should yield a multitude of additional observations on repeated viewings.
I would like to close with a bit about fractured narratives. Run Lola Run and Time Code tap into the same trend in our digital culture, I think. David Fincher, in describing Fight Club, said that his movie wasn't watched, it was "downloaded." If anything, I think Time Code and Run Lola Run tap that same vein, even more effectively. They are, perhaps, the future of digital storytelling; so I guess you could say … the future is now!