When you read the description of The Time Machine (1960), you will see the term “post-apocalyptic.”  I find this fascinating as a practicing Catholic.  In Western culture, our primary source for ideas about the end times comes from the Bible, specifically the Book of Revelation, appropriately Scripture’s last section.  Its verses talk about the end of our time, the establishment of a New Jerusalem, and eternity for the God’s chosen people spent with Him.  I guess that means after the forces of the enemy are defeated that existence does not slip into a void of nothingness.  Such analyses are above my Spiritual pay grade, and I honestly try to focus on my own relationship with God and let Him take care of the rest.  Whatever it is that will happen, I wonder how similar it will be to what we see in movies like this one?

It is nearly 8:00 pm on January 5^th, 1900, and H. George Wells’ (Rod Taylor) guests are checking The Time Machine on the wall of his London because their friend is about to be late for dinner.  This time, I mean clock.  His maid, Mrs. Watchett (Doris Lloyd), brings in a note for David Filby (Alan Young), George’s closest friend, for them to start without him in the event that George is not present at the appointed hour.  As they are about to sit down, they are surprised when a bedraggled George stumbles into the dining room, clothes torn and him bleeding.  Naturally, they are curious as to how their host could get into such a condition, but to tell the story, he must narrate to them the past five days.  On New Year’s Eve, at the turn of the twentieth century, George has the same four people gathered in his library.  It is at this meeting that he reveals to them that he has invented a way to move into the fourth dimension, as he puts it.  Following some explanation of the first three dimensions, he finally says it in plainer terms: he can time travel.  He uses a miniature model of his actual machine, throwing a switch on it and watching it disappear.  Despite this incredible occurrence, most of the others remain incredulous, pointing out the ongoing Boer War as a more important cause to which he should devote his talents.  The last of the men to leave is David, who discusses the dangers of using such a device if it does exist.  He makes the sensible arguments like making the best of the era in which we find ourselves, and not messing with the laws of Providence.  I appreciate the religious stance, of course.  George listens patiently, but as soon as David leaves, the inventor heads to his laboratory to play with his toy.  At first, he slowly pushes the lever forward, watching time slip a little more quickly into the future, with hours going by in a matter of seconds.  Intrigued, he decides to apply more pressure to the handle, witnessing the mannequin in the front window of a department store across the street change styles with dizzying speed.  What gets him to pause for a moment is seeing the windows of his home get covered with boards, causing him to step outside in 1917.  In doing so, he happens upon James Filby (Alan Young), David’s son, who informs George that his dad has kept the Wells estate from being sold, thinking the inventor would one day return.  With this, David gets back to the machine and continues journeying into the future.  The next year in which he takes a moment to look around is 1940, the bombing of World War II London causing the ground around him to rumble.  Because he has been zipping along so fast, it is not until 1966 that he once more comes to a complete stop.  As in 1917, he again encounters David, this time elderly and encouraging Londoners to get below ground with an imminent nuclear bomb about to detonate nearby.  We see the devastation of the explosion, but somehow George gets back to his chair, this time leaning heavily on the lever.  Millennia upon millennia come and go in the blink of an eye, and after the destruction and emerging from a rocky encasement, he emerges to see a civilization being born.  It is not until he is over 800,000 years from 1900 that he finally comes to a rest.  The world into which he steps is vastly different, a verdant paradise with new species of plants.  What is missing is people.  Eventually he finds them, being drawn to a woman screaming as she drowns in a nearby river.  Though there are others close by, they do nothing to help her.  Hence, George takes it upon himself to jump into the water, getting Weena (Yvette Mimieux) to safety.  George’s bewilderment over their inaction continues as he shadows their absent-minded movements to a ruined building in which they feast.  His desire to learn about them is thwarted by their seemingly dimwitted answers, and he soon leaves in anger.  He is followed by Weena, who warns him not to try to get into the building into which his time device has been dragged.  This is where the Morlocks live, but she can say little about them, only that they seem to be running things and that her people, the Eloi, obey them.  She is able to show him a room full of machines that the Eloi are unable to use, but they give George a picture of what has taken place in the intervening thousands of years.  Basically, it is more war.  In any case, it makes George more determined to return to his own time, no matter his growing feelings for Weena.  Before he can make good on his attempt to get into Morlock-ville, air raid sirens go off and the Eloi, Weena included, start walking zombie-like towards the Morlock temple.  She goes in before George can stop her, which only drives him harder.  Upon getting into the Morlock lair, it becomes evident that Eloi are being eaten by the blue, ape-like, cave dwellers.  They are also afraid of fire, which George uses to his advantage to save everyone.  Yet, before he can take Weena with him, the door into their building closes between them.  This brings us back to the beginning, and most of George’s guests again do not believe his tale, except for David.  David is about to leave when he re-enters the Wells’ residence with further questions.  He bursts into George’s lab just after George uses his machine to go back into the future, as David guesses.  The end.

David’s assumption at the end of The Time Machine is based on how George explained the way in which his invention works.  It has something to do with occupying the same space throughout time, though moving through the fourth dimension makes one invisible, I guess.  By moving the machine, he can be outside the door when he goes back and be with Weena.  Time travel plots are usually tricky and involve pseudo-science in such a way that I feel unqualified to discuss.  I am on firmer ground in talking about David’s warnings to George.  David’s use of Providence, ironically enough, is the weaker of his arguments against time travel.  It smacks of being anti-science, or at least a lack of healthy curiosity that, at least with Catholicism, has never been a part of Christian thought.  There are, to be sure, certain guidelines, to borrow research parlance, that should be followed.  The main one is the protection of life.  This does not have an immediate application to what George has invented, but one could come to see it in such terms with a bit of critical thought.  After all, the notion of what could happen to the future, assuming it is full of fixed events, is theoretical. Because it is theory, one can imagine any number of scenarios that could result in countless deaths.  Or not.  Who knows? We certainly do not, only God does, which is why David’s other words of wisdom have greater value.  He suggests to George that the inventor stay focused on what we can control in the here and now.  Though it is not meant in this manner, this is great spiritual advice.  As mentioned a moment ago, the future is murky, and there is nothing we can do about the past.  God gives us the present, and it is a gift.  By concentrating on the moment, doing our best to follow His will for our lives, we can have a better idea of what will occur in the immediate future, but when that arrives, it is another invitation to give ourselves over to Him.  If there is a lesson to take away from the film in this light, it is that even if we can have knowledge of days, weeks, or even years ahead of us, it will still cause us anxiety.  If we dedicate ourselves to something better, though, the possibility for good can sustain us.

Despite being pretty old, it is not hard to sustain oneself while viewing The Time Machine.  There is a 2002 version of the same novel, written by H. G. Wells in 1895, and maybe I will get around to that one at some point.  For now, there is nothing wrong with the 1960 iteration.  Proceed without reservation.