As Ali wasn't interested in the plot, I went by myself to The Dryden Theater at George Eastman House (900 East Ave.) to see Los cronocrímenes (Timecrimes). By this time, I was starting to feel like I was in one of Dayna Papaleo's bad weeks: a continuous stream of movies, one after another, that just become a blur.
Anyway, as time-travel stories go, this one was rather unusual in that the ramifications of going back in time are seemingly completely resolved, if at great expense. The protagonist, Hector, starts out the film in an (apparently) satisfactory relationship with his wife at (apparently) a house they just moved into. Hector is perusing the landscape with his binoculars when his wife leaves to run a few errands. In a nearby clearing, he spies a woman undressing so (naturally?) he goes to investigate. Once he finds the girl, he's attacked by a man with a fully bandaged head. He escapes to the shelter of a facility of some kind, and finds the sole weekend occupant who inexplicably ushers him into a chamber that sends him back an hour-or-so into the past.
He again meets the technician — who's naturally surprised to meet him for the first time — and the technician explains that he must not do anything until he gets back to the point where he left from earlier … er … later. Hector, however, has other plans: he wants to stop himself from getting attacked. In the process, though, he ends up with quite a head injury and realizes he's the guy who attacked himself.
Well, things go from bad to worse, to worse again. Just one Hector was clumsy enough, but having three of them exist in the same hour just leads to disaster. He thankfully figures out how to get all the events to play out without need for further trips back in time.
So what's the point? I'm not sure. Maybe a tale about not being malicious. Maybe it's just a clever story. And maybe it's as simple as this: if you've got a wife and see a sexy young woman undressing, just stay away.
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