This post is part of my movie-a-day challenge in which I will watch a film every day for 365 days. Today is Day 301! You can see all the posts for this challenge HERE. To see the original Movie-a-Day Challenge post, click HERE.
Oh boy, where to start with The Time Capsule? This was an experience that’s a liiiittle bit whimsical and a whole lotta “What if we could relive our past?” It’s directed by Erwann Marshall, and I’m not saying that lightly. I mean, who even remembers the directors most times? But something about the way this film played out makes me think, “Man, this one’s got a filmmaker who’s definitely been through some stuff.”
So, let’s talk plot. Imagine you’ve just been dumped by someone super special, someone you’ve got history with. Deep history. Got that sinking feeling in your stomach yet? That’s where Jack (played by Todd Grinnell) is at when the movie starts. He’s a former politician who’s reached that point in life where you begin to question all your big choices, like, “Was running for office really worth it?”, “Why did I break up with her again?”, and “Do I really wanna spend the rest of my life doing this? Do I really love my wife?” Ugh, Jack, I feel you, man.
Anyway, after a bruising election loss, Jack decides to retreat back to his hometown—a small, sleepy New England kind of vibe. But just as he’s settling into a rhythm of fishing and self-reflection, BAM! Enter his high school sweetheart, Elise (the radiant (played by Brianna Hildebrand), looking not a day older than the last time they shared a stolen kiss under the summer moon… twenty years ago.
Turns out, Elise has been on a two-decade space mission, and thanks to some relativistic shenanigans, she’s has not aged a wrinkle. Talk about a blast from the past! So cue the existential crisis and a whole lot of awkwardness. We watch as Jack, torn between his present commitments and the reawakening of a long-dormant flame, navigates a moral minefield.
The chemistry between Grinnell and Hildebrand is electric, reigniting that teenage spark with a maturity and depth that only comes with time (or lack thereof, in Holly’s case). We watch as Jack grapples with his rekindled feelings, torn between his present life and the alluring “what if” of a love that defies time.
So, the plot floats between your typical “What have I done with my life?” existential crisis and a swirly, fantastical storyline where time itself is more of a background character than a rigid structure. Imagine you had the power to unpause time from whenever you last felt truly alive. What would you do? Who would you try to reconnect with? That’s kind of the haunting and sweet nature of their reunion—and the movie itself. Can you ever really go back? Or will you always be haunted by the road not taken? In a way, I guess the film wants you to ponder that question yourself.
Elise also seems almost like an embodiment of what we’ve lost in the endless march of technology, while also showing us what could be regained if we just stopped looking at our screens for, like, five seconds.
Grinnell’s performance is nuanced and captivating, portraying a man caught between loyalty and longing. He’s got this grounded energy that makes you empathize with him even when he’s being a bit of a numbskull. The guy’s charming in that “I don’t even know why you like me” kind of way, which, let’s face it, is relatable on so many levels. Strickland, as the seemingly composed wife Maggie, delivers a quiet intensity that hints at the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. And Hildebrand, as the eternally youthful Elise, exudes an infectious energy that lights up the screen.
And of course, there’s a strong supporting cast, but honestly, it’s Todd and Brianna who make things sizzle. Their heartfelt performances give The Time Capsule its emotional core.
One thing’s for sure: the cinematography here hits you in the feels. There are all these small-town vibes—you know, the kind where the air’s crisp, the mornings are perpetually golden, and you’re pretty sure you can smell the ginormous pancakes from everybody’s kitchens. It’s like the movie itself is telling you to pause, take in the scenery, and remember what it feels like to have tangible memories.
All in all, it’s not just a movie about regret or a metaphorical second chance—it’s more about connection: with others, with ourselves, and with everything flying by while we’re busy making plans. You’ll find yourself submerged in nostalgic papercuts and maybe even questioning the choices that brought you to where you are (which I guess might be in front of a screen, taking in my rambling review?).
Alright, I’m off to contemplate life and avoid finishing that one thing I’ve been procrastinating on for too long. Watch The Time Capsule if you haven’t—it might make you feel like you’re still driving down that melancholy road back to your hometown.
Cheers!
Roger and Out.
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