Audrey Niffenegger’s “The Time Traveler’s Wife” captured hearts worldwide with its unique blend of romance and science fiction. Millions have been swept away by the tale since its 2003 debut, further amplified by the 2009 film adaptation. The core concept is widely known: Henry, a librarian, grapples with a genetic condition causing spontaneous time travel, appearing unexpectedly and unclothed in various eras. Through his disjointed journeys, he encounters Clare, his destined soulmate. Their relationship is a dance of separation and reunion, dictated by Henry’s unpredictable travels, unfolding in moments both romantic and challenging, shaped by their ever-shifting ages.
While some have categorized the source material as overly sentimental, Steven Moffat, a self-proclaimed admirer of the book (drawing inspiration for the “Doctor Who” episode “The Girl in the Fireplace”), undertook the challenge of adapting it into a six-part series for Sky Atlantic. Moffat’s adaptation refines the narrative, tempering the melodrama and injecting wit, resulting in a more nuanced portrayal of this extraordinary love story.
However, the series retains a somewhat divisive narrative structure. Each episode commences with Clare (Rose Leslie, embodying the spirited essence of “Game of Thrones'” Ygritte, a welcome departure from “The Good Fight’s” Maia) and Henry (Theo James, delivering a compelling performance after his “Divergent” series roles) reflecting on their unconventional lives. These introspective moments, while intended to be poignant, occasionally feel like filler, featuring lines such as, “The future is something that turns up when you’re looking for something else,” and, “For everyone else, the past is over. For me, I’m still trying to survive it.”
Once the central narrative takes hold, Moffat masterfully directs the flow of Henry’s time jumps. His spontaneous appearances and disappearances create a dynamic rhythm, rather than descending into chaos. The series delves into the profound trauma of Henry’s past, revealing his repeated, powerless returns to the scene of his mother’s tragic fate. Troubles are subtly hinted at from various timelines, building suspense before their eventual realization. James effectively portrays Henry’s transformation from a self-described “asshole” – Clare’s early assessment – to a figure of significant depth and even gravitas. The recurring visual of discarded clothing piles left after Henry’s travels adds a touch of dark humor to the otherwise intense drama. And the implications of Henry’s time-traveling feet, while best left unspoiled, present similarly intriguing narrative threads.
“The Time Traveler’s Wife TV series” presents a compelling story, skillfully adapted for the screen. Yet, it grapples with inherent challenges from its source material, navigating some more effectively than others. The first is the potentially unsettling dynamic of Henry’s repeated encounters with Clare during her childhood. While this was a point of discussion in 2003, contemporary sensitivities amplify this concern. Moffat directly addresses this by having Henry acknowledge the audience’s potential discomfort – through Clare’s line about grooming her My Little Pony. However, a degree of unease remains almost unavoidable.
The second, more fundamental issue lies in Clare’s characterization. Niffenegger’s narrative positions Clare in a largely passive role. Her life, though professionally fulfilling, is fundamentally defined by waiting for Henry. Her happiness hinges on his unpredictable arrivals. More deeply, her identity and sexuality are shaped around him from a young age. This dynamic echoes the problematic messaging found in “Twilight” – a theme of female self-subordination in the name of love. This aspect feels somewhat regressive, resonating more with societal elements that historically encouraged female subservience rather than contemporary movements advocating for female empowerment and agency. One might hope for series that champion progress, rather than inadvertently reinforcing outdated paradigms.
