I cannot describe the joy that washed over me this morning when I found out I was reviewing a movie called Time Helmet. It is only because I am an outlaw film writer for Film Threat that I get to write about outlaw films like this one. To Jackson’s credit, he more than fulfills the promise of the deft title and simple yet intricate concept. Jackson also rolls out the plot carpet quickly, with a rapid setup and payoff momentum that most other movies would need a time helmet to achieve. The cast is wonderful, with Ticzon playing the perfect straight man for both the humor and the sci-fi reactions. Burrows is adorable as the animal-loving love interest, bringing much more heft to the role than the ’80s archetype usually allows.
The humor is turned up to zany, yet it mixes well with the strong sci-fi storyline. The leads are marvelous, with New more than able to carry the movie, given that it is really a dual role spanning different generations of the same character. His comic powers are vast, but don’t underestimate how deep into the pain pool he can plunge when the s**t gets real. Macdonald steals the show in a supreme rendition of the Hit Girl style of heroine. She delivers the ultimate lethal, foul-mouthed little missy, a character type made for cinema that delivers dividends and pays off big here. No matter what happens, we have Sargent Slaughter of the time police, thanks to Macdonald.
Donald Voltman (Peter New) tries to keep it together while Ferris (Lou Ticzon) watches the time helmet chaos unfold.
“The humor is turned up to zany, yet mixes well with the strong sci-fi storyline.”
Let me clue you in to what kind of magic this little indie wonder from up North possesses. There was this fantastic moment about 40 minutes into Time Helmet where everything Jackson has planted blooms, resulting in an explosion of euphoric emotions you only get off the beaten path. Then my goddamn phone rang with news that took the day into the realm of awful. F**k me to tears, it was a horrible call, made worse by the repeating of all the extra crappy parts, covering the morning with an invisible fecal spray. This was followed by an excruciatingly hectic shift in the day job, the kind that crushes you like an empty beer can with cigarette butts at the bottom. The combination of weekday atrocities took the day beyond “same s**t, different flavor” into “glare at the air until it smolders” territory.
The only relief I had from this smashed-glass water-pipe day was when I would resume watching Time Helmet. This is the kind of bad day killing magic you can only find in the indie film sector, as the big pictures simply aren’t as nimble as the street-level fighters like Jackson. No matter how hateful today was, I will only remember how good this was, and that today was the day I saw it. That is the power of a good indie movie: a journey into a world someone else has crafted from imagination and little else. This kind of feature-length immersion isn’t something that you can get from a 12-second repeating video of some goddamned thing on the phone. This is the kind of indie surprise that can chase away the darkest day. Switch this movie on now for a better time than you are having.
"…the kind of indie surprise that can chase away the darkest day."
