Time Goes Back

Rating: 9/10 (14 March 2015)

An erudite and seemingly nerd figure stands in a rather convivial background that seems rather digressed from the life a Cambridge geek might live. He shares an unexpected glance with a charming lady who turns the same back on him. The man wears "coke bottle glasses" that literally conform him to the aberrant grandeur of "nerd". The story takes a natural run and the dedicated stakeholders find themselves in a relationship that has exactly opposite connotations; it edifies and strengthens, while slowly debilitating the long lasting promise of the female spouse. From the start, James Marsh perfected in being banal and ordinary, doing nothing fabulous with the movie except comprehensible story-telling, and one of the most astounding and cherished performances of all time. The latter holds utterly true for the male performance. I wasn't in awe of Felicity anywhere, with the exception of perhaps the moments when she cries and feels for her husband in the movie.
Hawking is found with Amytrophic Lateral Sclerosis just when he was in the early stages of his PhD in cosmology. This diagnosis follows Eddie Redmayne's (Hawking) collapse, which is backed by Johann Johannson's Chalkboard. It was this scene that came out of the screen to hold my right ear and whisper, "How you like me now?" The next ninety minutes have been inscribed on my heart and mind almost permanently. Eddie pulls off a Daniel Day-Lewis (My Left Foot) performance. What other complement does he need than Stephen Hawking's own tears dripping down his cheeks while watching the movie (this actually happened).
Back to the movie. Stephen's then companion, Jane, offers to accompany him because she loves him and they get married. Partly restricted by his physical state, Hawking starts to focus on the origins of time in his PhD thesis. His work opens new horizons to the study of time and cosmology. Although he is initially undermined by a few renowned professors, his work is regarded with global appreciation. Hawking, when asked by Professor Dennis of he would like to do after his PhD, responds that he would prove his theory that even time had a start.
Concurrently, the physicist finds his illness worsening but Jane's dedication continues to be conducive to his mental and physical upbringing. Hawking decides to write a book on "time" and titles it "A Brief History of Time". He colleagues and admirers assist him with an exclusive gadget on which he can write with the properly functional body parts, his fingers. Finally the book is launched, and Hawking's cerebrum dominates the intellectual market. His book goes viral and over ten-million copies were sold. At this stage, he is left terribly desolated by his own "self". He can't speak, he can't breathe in the way a normal person does (he has a ventilator for that), and is entirely guided by his intrinsic cognitive incandescence, affection, and support from kins and peers. But even that starts to fade away as Hawking's dearly celebrated "time" passes and his wife gets concentrated with love for Hawking's former caretaker, Jonathan. This is juxtaposed with Elaine, her current caretaker, who is affectionate towards Hawking, and later in time, they both get married (not shown in the movie).
Hawking is invited to the Queen as a gesture of appreciation from the royal family for all his astounding achievements. The last scene shows him and Jane, who are still married, just outside the royal palace, and Hawking writes the most sentimental comment of the movie, "Look what we made". The screen shows their three children, and then "time" reverses, metaphorically asserting his stance on traveling back in time. The curtains close with a sound cadence of music that culminates the very content of the movie and leaves audience with a contradictory state of happiness and emotional distress.
Throughout the movie, I didn't think of the direction, nor the script. Therefore, I didn't think The Theory of Everything had any chance of winning when it was finally nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay, and I was quite appreciative of the Academy for not nominating the James Marsh for Best Direction, which otherwise would have been an unnecessary and sympathetic nomination. If you look at it, the movie had nothing except Eddie Redmayne's so "cussying" real-life depiction of Stephen, Stephen's original life that he lived, University of Cambiige's prodigious establishment(for the first quarter of the movie), and Johann Johannsson's goose-bumping score, which unfortunately lost to Alexander's comical for The Grand Budapest Hotel (I wish Academy starts giving runner-up awards too.) But just this was enough to qualify it for "thumbs-up" from me.
What I can never forget is how the movie ends. I was in tears. It was a conundrum for me—I felt shivering, because I long for such a moment myself, where I can say "Look what we made," and follow back on my steps to see accomplishment, and struggle, because anything that comes without it loses its charm. I'm feeling the same thing while writing this review. Maybe I'm being melodramatic, but it feels really strong.