Without giving too much away, Millennium is a time travel movie. The year (in one timeline) is 1989. A midair collision causes a jumbo jet to plunge rapidly toward earth. When the flight engineer checks the situation in the back, he discovers the passengers are already dead. Seconds before impact, the black box records the man’s final words: “They’re all burned up!”
The black box is one of several juicy mysteries for the investigators, led by Bill Smith (Kris Kristofferson). Another mystery: all the digital watches which survived the crash are now ticking backwards. I wanted the movie to explain why and how the watches tick backwards, but it never does. When it does explain things, it explains too much, often at the expense of the story. For example, there is absolutely no reason seasoned time travelers should need ideas like paradoxes and nonlinear timelines explained to them in excruciating detail. You’d think that stuff would be taught on the first day of Time Travel 101.
The film imagines a future phenomenon called “timequakes.” Unlike Vonnegut’s terrifying interpretation of the term, the timequakes in Millennium occur in the story’s present (a thousand years from now) whenever one of the time travelers change something in the past (1989). It’s disappointing that the phenomenon has less to do with temporal dimensional stuff and more to do with boring ol’ earthquakes, but after the time travelers experience one, they’re relieved that, “We haven’t changed much.” Which, like much of the movie, doesn’t make a lick of sense. If their actions in the past changed their present selves, how the hell would they know? Look, I’m not knocking a time travel movie for having plot holes. I’m knocking it because better time travel movies know how to skate by the problems all time travel movies have. Millennium is a lot like a magician who hasn’t mastered the art of misdirection yet.
What I like about the movie is the way it plays with perspective. In Back to the Future 2, Marty returns to events depicted in the first movie, but we see them from entirely different viewpoints. In Millennium, and maybe this is due to budget limitations and/or laziness, the movie wraps around to expand on earlier scenes, sometimes using the exact same shots as before. Sometimes it’s boring, sometimes it’s mildly interesting how nothing more than additional context could change a scene’s tone. Investigator Bill Smith is the focus for the first half of the movie and then… someone else becomes the main character.
Meanwhile the chemistry between Kristofferson and Cheryl Ladd tries too hard to be “future Casablanca.” Anyone who’s ever worked as a real life airline pilot or a safety inspector will scream at the screen frequently. My biggest complaint is the movie would have been a lot more interesting had it explored what happens after its final shot. That climax, by the way, is full of unintentional laughs, but the film is more or less believable as a whole. It’s just one of those movies that’s too odd for me to dislike. For instance, the all-seeing council is a direct descendant of Flash Gordon and Zardoz while the future sets, though utterly unconvincing, have a cyberpunk flair about them.
Here’s what John Varley has to say about the production, according to Wikipedia:
“We had the first meeting on Millennium in 1979. I ended up writing it six times. There were four different directors, and each time a new director came in I went over the whole thing with him and rewrote it. Each new director had his own ideas, and sometimes you’d gain something from that, but each time something’s always lost in the process, so that by the time it went in front of the cameras, a lot of the vision was lost.”
Millennium isn’t great, but it’s a helluva lot better than its 11% on Rotten Tomatoes.
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