Review by Matt Harries
I’ve long had a soft spot for English director Nicolas Roeg. Performance, The Man Who Fell To Earth, Walkabout, and arguably his finest film Don’t Look Now are all distinctive examples of his style; all films full of visual flair honed from his earlier career as a cameraman and cinematographer. Roeg’s disassembling and reassembling of narrative structure, his choice of leading men better known as musicians, and his frequent treatment of themes of obsession and the erotic, all mark him as one of the most quintessential of ‘art house’ directors. Even his adaptation of Roald Dahl’s classic The Witches was one of the darker and edgier children’s tales you are likely to come across.
Released under the full title of ‘Bad Timing: A Sensual Obsession’ in 1980, this always seemed like being another difficult sell for Roeg. Indeed distributors Rank Pictures themselves described it as a “sick film made by sick people for sick people”. It was given an X rating and shelved until 2005 when Criterion, who are also responsible for this latest Blu-ray transfer, released it on DVD. All credit to them for championing an often overlooked and absorbing piece of work.
Once again Roeg chose a leading man known principally as a musical performer, Art Garfunkel following messrs Jagger and Bowie, who starred in Performance (1970) and The Man Who Fell To Earth (1976) respectively. The folk singer is perfectly cast as Dr Alex Linden, an American psychology professor working in Vienna. The underrated Theresa Russell, who was later married to Roeg and actually made seven films with him during the 80s, stars alongside Garfunkel as wild child Milena Flaherty. Bad Timing owes much of its success to the uneasy chemistry between these two opposite-natured characters. Their tempestuous love affair and its near fatal aftermath forms the basis for the plot, told by Roeg via characteristic use of non-linear flashback. Despite seeming almost haphazard at first, this is in fact a very skilful method of manipulating the viewer. Witness the opening scenes, in which we see Alex and Milena, not yet obviously acquainted, admiring a Gustav Klimt exhibition, to the distinctive strains of Tom Waits (apparently Klimt’s works were a strong influence on the cinematography). The glinting golden tones of the paintings are gazed at by Alex, his expression inscrutable. Moments later a siren pierces our contemplative reverie as we are suddenly taken forward in time, on board an ambulance. A paramedic holds an oxygen mask to Milena, leering as her shirt falls open. Alex sits beside her, looking on with that cat-like cool gaze. Seeing the paramedic’s stare he leans forward and closes her shirt. Although his gaze, so similar to that with which he appraised Klimt’s artwork, is a little disconcerting, we recognise this as a protective gesture. However it is actually an echo of an earlier gesture which we are not shown until much later in the film, which places this apparently gentlemanly act in a rather more sinister light.
It’s probably more accurate to call the relationship between Alex and Milena a sexual obsession instead of a love affair. Although the word ‘love’ is bandied around it never truly belongs comfortably in either character’s true feelings: Alex, naturally stand offish, reserved and composed; Milena much more open, direct and impetuous. She in fact makes the first move, almost aggressively assuming the traditionally male role in trying to seduce Alex at a party. From there on he begins the process of trying to understand her. At the root of his desire to know her is his own jealousy and possessiveness. She spends time in the company of other men, she drinks too much. She is perpetual motion, laughter and energy. He dreams of being able to reign in her unfettered ways with a home, with marriage. Milena though appears incapable of change, even if she wanted it. Instead she demands that Alex love her with a passionate fervour that overlooks her wild ways. Or as one time lover Stefan (Denholm Elliot) says “we must love her…even more than our own dignity.”
There is more at stake here than mere dignity though. Throughout the gradual unfurling of Alex and Milena’s affair we are shown scenes of Milena at the hospital to which the ambulance was bringing her. It becomes apparent that she has overdosed. Unconscious upon arrival, she lies choking, instruments pushed down her windpipe as the doctors attempt to revive her. Scenes of her and Alex making love are interspersed with alarming footage of Milena undergoing a bloody tracheotomy. All the while Harvey Keitel’s intense Inspector Netusil continues to probe the rather detached Alex regarding his involvement in what seems certain to become Milena’s death. Gradually it becomes apparent that the cause of her overdose was much more complex than a night of debauchery gone awry. Netusil peels away the layers surrounding Alex and his story of the night of the incident, gradually revealing a well-hidden dark core.
Bad Timing succeeds on a number of levels, not least because of fine performances from the leading pair. Garfunkel has a natural placidity that lends itself perfectly to the character of a psychoanalyst whose observational detachment always seems at odds with Milena’s fiery and spontaneous nature. In turn Theresa Russell, only 21 at the time, is sultry and sexy and her Milena is everything that Alex is not. She is the life and soul of every scene she appears in and perfectly conveys the passion and youthful exuberance the academic Alex tries to capture.
It is the team of Roeg, cinematographer Anthony Richmond and editor Tony Lawson who really excel though. Their combined talents beautifully bring varying shades of this unconventional romance and its Freudian interplay of emotions, paranoias and passions to the screen, and Vienna provides a suitably rich visual backdrop for these dramas to take place in. The subtlety of the editing is difficult to describe, but there haven’t been many films with such flair for bringing light to the interior life of its characters. Gestures, words, thoughts, all are captured and fleeting though they may be, they add to our understanding of the events with a nuanced detail rarely seen outside of literature.
Once again, credit must go to Criterion for this release, which is the perfect way to showcase Blu-ray’s restorative powers to an already visually stunning film, that surely deserves to be seen by a much wider audience.
Bad Timing is released to UK Blu-ray on 26th January 2015, from Network.