Bad Timing

If you're a die-hard Nicolas Roeg fan, chances are you take the most pleasure in the first four films he directed: Performance (co-directed by the late, great Donald Cammell), Walkabout, Don't Look Now, and The Man Who Fell to Earth. Great films one and all, these are the visionary filmmaker's most celebrated works and they contain all of his directorial trademarks: unorthodox compositions, non-linear editing, adventurous use of music, rock stars in key roles, unprecedented sexual intimacy, as well as a general sense of despair, vulnerability, and characters at the end of their ropes.

But there's a little known fifth masterpiece in the early Roeg canon -- one that should now finally get the attention it deserves thanks to the typically lavish work of The Criterion Collection -- that goes even further than any of those other films in exploring Roeg's obsessions. It's one thing to cast Mick Jagger or David Bowie in a key role, but Roeg built this whole film around the uncertain acting talents of Art Garfunkel (Carnal Knowledge notwithstanding). This is one of many risky moves in Bad Timing and they all add up to a one-of-a-kind cinematic experience that only Nicolas Roeg could have concocted.

It's worth noting that Roeg's prime period of filmmaking came to an end largely because of this film's failure. Actually, "failure" is too weak a word. Once the critics and public got their first glimpse of this challenging, disturbing film, it was basically raped, tortured, and left for dead on the side of the road...where it remained for several decades. The film was produced by The Rank Organisation who removed their logo -- that famous shirtless guy hitting a gong -- from the film's UK prints and called it "a sick film made by sick people for sick people." Is that really such a bad thing?

Bad Timing was never previously available on video in North America, largely because of difficulties clearing the songs on its eclectic soundtrack. I first saw it after taping a 3 A.M. TV showing several years ago then finally caught the film in its true widescreen glory -- like all of Roeg's best work, this is an intricately crafted aesthetic experience -- when the UK DVD was released in 2003. But when I learned that The Criterion Collection was releasing a new DVD of the film, I was deeply excited for two reasons: 1) it meant I'd get to hear Nicolas Roeg's thoughts on the film after all these years and 2) it meant the film's reputation might be restored to something approximating justice.

While this disc isn't quite as elaborate as Criterion's new 2-disc release of Roeg's The Man Who Fell to Earth, it's still a tremendous treat for fans of the film. In addition to a terrific transfer, a gallery of stills, and the film's theatrical trailer, we get a few more substantial features. The main attraction is "Trade Secrets," a 28-minute interview with Roeg and the film's iconoclastic producer, Jeremy Thomas. Seated side-by-side at a table, they discuss pretty much every Bad Timing-related topic you could think of, including the film's title (the original title, Illusions, had to be changed because of Richard Bach's novel of the same name), the casting of Garfunkel, Harvey Keitel's long hair, and the film's soundtrack.

A surprising highlight of the disc is the 19-minute interview with Theresa Russell. Although she always struck me as vaguely ditzy, she married Roeg soon after they made Bad Timing (and starred in several of his subsequent films) and I decided, if she's good enough for Roeg, she's good enough for me. In fairness, she also has a refreshingly eccentric screen presence -- who could forget her indelible turn as the title character in Ken Russell's Whore? -- and she gets bonus points for choosing Bad Timing over the chance to audition for Superman (which is better off with Margot Kidder, anyway). Her observations about the making of Bad Timing ultimately prove more illuminating than Roeg's, although her arrogant assertion that she helped the inexperienced Garfunkel with his performance is a little farfetched, given that they had acted in the same number of films up to that point (2).

Finally, we get an impressive selection of deleted scenes (16 in total) -- half of which are presented without audio -- and an attractive booklet with an Art Garfunkel article from a 1980 issue of Rolling Stone and an essay by Richard Combs. Overall, this makes for a great overview of Bad Timing, arguably the rawest and most affecting film ever to deal with obsessive love. It's also a must-own for any self-respecting fan of early Nicolas Roeg. -- Jonathan Doyle