Writer/director Ned Benson’s beguiling little charmer expands upon a premise that’ll feel familiar to everybody: the power of a beloved song to take us back in time to where we were, and who with, the first time it was heard.
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| After a couple of chance encounters, sparks fly when Harriet (Lucy Boynton) and David (Justin H. Min) playfully argue over who gets to purchase a rare, one-of-a-kind LP in her favorite music store. |
This isn’t a happy ability.
As revealed when this story begins — after Harriet, alone in her apartment, cues up The The’s aptly titled “This Is the Day,” on her fancy turntable — that tune was playing when she and Max were involved in a car accident. He died; she wound up in a coma for a week.
Upon wakening, she discovered — to her horror — that every tune she and Max ever heard, during their four years together, yanks her back to that particular moment of their relationship. Her past self’s awareness of this doesn’t help; we realize, from Harriet’s forlorn bearing, that she has tried many, many times to prevent the accident. And failed.
Two years have passed, during which Harriet has — as a means of self-preservation — cocooned herself into an isolated life. She has forsaken a once-budding career in music production, to work in the silence of a library. When not there, or at home, she wears noise-canceling headphones, in order to prevent accidentally overhearing a “trigger” song; if that happens, her present-day self goes into an unconscious trance ... which, obviously, could be dangerous.
Over time, she has catalogued scores of trigger songs that allow her, in the privacy of her apartment, to re-live happier moments with Max. But this is unhealthy, as it prevents her from processing grief; indeed, such sessions simply fuel her misery. Her only companion is the devoted little dog she “inherited” after the accident.
She always sits in an antique armchair, facing her system speakers, in a pose that cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung cheekily lifts from Maxell’s iconic 1980s “Blown-Away Guy” ads for audiocassettes. (I have to wonder how many of this film’s viewers will recognize the reference.)
Jamie XX’s “Loud Places” sends her back to the music festival when she and Max first met. Yellow Days’ “Gap in the Clouds” finds them during a romantic moment on an isolated beach. And so forth. (Benson’s film is wall-to-wall music; every song is carefully selected to add impact or irony to a given scene.)
It’s like a drug, and Harriet is hooked: “It’s so easy to be pulled back into the past.”
Best friend Morris (Austin Crute), who works as a DJ for hire, doesn’t believe that Harriet actually travels back in time, but he understands that she’s “stuck.” He worries about her — has worried, for a long time — and Crute persuasively plays this role with a gentle, amiable blend of sympathy and snark.
Harriet attends grief-counseling meetings headed by the kind and patient Dr. Bartlett (actress/stand-up comic Retta), who also worries about this young woman who never talks about herself, during the group sessions.
Right about the time we wonder where Benson is taking us, Harriet “meets cute” with David (Justin H. Min), who — by coincidence — also has trouble channeling grief. He misses his parents, and refuses to sell the antique store/upstairs home that they ran, and their family lived in, for his entire life. His sister Edie (Andie Ju) has tolerated this, but her patience is wearing thin.
Harriet and David flirt their way through early encounters. Boynton and Min share sweet chemistry, and Benson takes a patient, old-school approach to their budding relationship ... if, indeed, that’s what it is. David can’t figure her out (no surprise!), and Harriet is torn; as she guiltily admits to Morris, she feels like she’s “cheating” on Max.
And, so ...what will happen next?
Benson takes his time with all this, and his story’s success depends upon each viewer’s willingness to accept the far-fetched premise. He gets considerable help from Boynton, who was so captivating in 2016’s “Sing Street” and has delivered memorable supporting roles in scores of films since then, including 2017’s “Murder on the Orient Express” and last year’s “Barbie.”
Boynton is blessed with a warm, radiant smile; she also persuasively depicts Harriet’s grinding grief. During the rare moments when she’s genuinely happy, she blossoms like a flower ... but closes up just as quickly.
Min is aw-shucks likable as a nice guy who isn’t quite sure what he’s letting himself in for; David knows that Harriet is a “red flag,” but he can’t deny the attraction. Corenswet makes the hunky Max so damn personable, sincere and romantic that we easily understand Harriet’s desire to keep “visiting” him.
Benson and Chung make ample use of the story’s setting in numerous portions of the Los Angeles music scene. A rooftop “silent rave” is a particularly charming tableau.
Although Benson appears to have written himself into a corner, as we near the story’s conclusion, savvy viewers will anticipate a nod toward 2004’s The Butterfly Effect. Even so, the outcome may leave some unsatisfied.
In this case, the journey is superior to its destination.
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