It's important to love yourself. But it's also important to stop short of literally f—ing yourself.
That is one of many things a person will learn while watching the indie sci-fi time comedy romp Tim Travers and the Time Traveler's Paradox. Packing a consistent barrage of existential ideas and humor, writer/director (and Eastern Washington University grad) Stimson Snead's feature-length directorial debut surpasses most mainstream attempts at sci-fi comedy despite its shoestring budget. Anchored by a stellar performance (or rather, performances) by Samuel Dunning in the titular role, it's a movie that not only deserves to find a wider cult classic audience, but one that belongs among (and arguably surpasses) the top tier of Spokane-made movies like Vision Quest and Benny & Joon.
An adaptation of Snead's award-winning short film of the same name that played at SpIFF in 2022, the film begins with Dunning's Tim Travers putting the finishing touches on the time machine he's built in a remote warehouse. His machine is unique in that it's basically a one-way entryway that takes the user one minute into the past. While this might seem relatively useless, Travers' scientific mind sees this as a way to test the theory of "the time traveler's paradox." That basically means that if Tim goes back in time and kills his former self before he enters the time machine, he should cease to exist. Only he doesn't.
So he shoots his former self in the head. And then he repeats the experiment, again... and again... and again. The ever-snarky Travers begins playfully theorizing aloud how this is possible, setting an early tone of gleefully profane and absurd sci-fi intellectualism. He runs off to do a radio interview with a cringy conspiracy-minded, right-wing radio host (played with amusing sleaze by Joel McHale, the first of a few famous faces in supporting roles, which later includes Danny Trejo and Keith David). Tim instantly loathes the host's anti-experts mindset, and begins belittling him on air, establishing Tim's extremely know-it-all persona. At the recording studio, he meets Delilah (Felica Day), an extremely jaded employee of the show, who finds in Tim telling off her boss quite alluring. The two decide to go on a date that crashes and burns because Tim is distracted thinking about the paradox he created.
Not rated (Recommended ages 16+)
Directed by Stimson Snead
Starring Samuel Dunning, Felicia Day
Screening Sat, March 8 at 8:30 pm ($10), Garland Theater
As someone who always thinks he's the smartest guy in the room, Tim figures out how to get the help he needs to crack the case — create more Tims by walking though the Tim machine and not instantly killing himself. Soon the warehouse is filled with an array of Tims — all played by Dunning — who team up to try to crack the paradox and begin to develop their own slightly different personalities.
Snead's script crackles with a whip-smart male attitude that feels at times akin to the zeal found in Kevin Smith's iconic indie debut Clerks. The comedic timing (both in delivery and editing) consistently hits despite the fact that in most scenes Dunning is playing opposite versions of himself. Things continue to get gnarly when a hitman (played by Snead), hired to kill Tim for stealing the plutonium needed to power the time machine, starts adding to the body count by picking off Tims, oblivious to how his target keeps "coming back to life." The hijinks that ensue while Tim tries to solve the scientific riddle he's created range from tightly written theorizing to meet-cutes among the Tims, and all sorts of other creative gags.
The production design works incredibly well compared to most low-budget attempts at grand sci-fi in part because of the relative DIY nature of Tim's endeavors. Nobody will mistake the special effect here with a blockbuster sci-fi feature, but they're certainly good enough so as to not jolt viewers from the experience.
That's in large part because Dunning's acting is so far beyond most indie comedy lead performances, with the added difficulty of playing so many versions of himself. He far outshines the more famous faces in the film (Day's performance falls a bit flat, though that's partially because her role is a bit undeveloped in the script) and is able to convey Tim's verbosity and humor seamlessly.
In blunt, Reddit-friendly terms, Tim is the asshole. But the script doesn't absolve him of that fact. Tim Travers is at its core an examination of ego-driven male loneliness. The solitary scientist can't truly relate to anyone because he doesn't view anyone up to his intellectual level to the point where he makes more versions of himself for company. When no one else can stand you because you're a non-tipping jerk who's only concerned with your own pursuits, what other choice do you have?
Even as things ramp up the existential philosophy toward the end of the film, Tim Travers doesn't feel like it's reaching beyond its grasp, even when the ideas in question are those none of us will ever fully grasp. Our whole universe is absurd, crass, depressing and lonely in so many ways, and finding ways to warmheartedly cope with that reality is vital to just making it through any day — no matter how crazy it becomes.
As Tim Travers explores through the scientific method, it's important to love yourself without thinking you're the center of the goddamn universe. ♦
