Lack of good storyline.

Fun premise, good actors, bad writing. This film seemed to have potential at the beginning but it quickly devolves into a trite action film. Ultimately it's very boring.

This is a small, humorous movie in some ways, but it has a huge heart. What a nice experience.

The movie's neither hopeful in contrived ways, nor hopeless in different contrived ways. Somehow it manages to be wonderful

Yes, this film is true to the spirit of the sgraffito writings and thoughts of Proust, but it is impossible for the viewer to follow an account running thousands of pages without familiarity with all or part of it, in addition to a familiarity with the historical context, and overarching that, an ability to sort out the Proustian characters (Odette, Bloch, Charlus, eg) from the real ones (de Noailles, Montesquiou, de Pougy, Croisset, eg) - in essence moving seamlessly with the film in time through Proust's childhood, deathbed dreams, and soirees, sometimes in overlapping narratives, without conscious effort on the viewer's part. Yes.

who seem to know their Proust, their film, or both. That said, I found the film excellent, and the fellow who said it was about boring people leading boring lives, well! How boring can it be when you hear the sounds of ordinance whilst turning out in evening clothes trying to keep a sense of civilisation? Although it might seem disjointed, I am given to understand that Proust's writing was hardly linear, so a motion picture presenting his point of view must perforce be somewhat tangled.TIME REGAINED, which I had the pleasure of seeing on big screen at the Detroit Institute of Arts, is truly beautiful. One gives not a sou whether it looks "expensive" as another (otherwise thoughtful) commentator says.Speaking of my fellow reviewers, I just got off the Comments list for 28 DAYS LATER. It is striking how seeming intelligent and articulate the people are who went out of their way to see a French film, trusting in sub-titles, as opposed to those who saw another foreign product because it was going to be scary or a "zombie" movie. One can learn from the TIME REGAINED lot, the same as the motion picture. I am not that well-read. Maybe when I finish reading that Zola novel I have been working on for over ten years, Proust will be next!

A wonderful and faithful sight of the XIX century French high society,through the eyes of Marcel Proust: splendid and crual era, where dream,childhood,death,loneliness and vanity fair are tightly melt. If you know Proust, you read once again this opus with a richest look. If you don't know Proust, go to the nearest bookshop, and you will realize what a wizard he was!

TIME REGAINED (Fr., dir. Raul Ruiz, 165 min.) doesn't even pretend to stand on its own; is an homage useless and unintelligible to anyone who hasn't read and remembered Remembrance of Things Past. Having digested only the first 2 of the 7 novels which comprise this opus, and this long enough ago to have allowed memory of them to deteriorate, I confess much of the film remained beyond me. But even with the book as scorecard, the film functions as hardly more than a metasoap opera, a costume pageant of the book's characters who parade by, talk and walk, without ever coming to life. Nothing much happens onscreen; the movie is practically void of action. Despite impeccable staging, it consists largely of one conversation after another, endless scenes of dinners, lunches, social gatherings, etc., in which people dispassionately discuss events and relationships that have already transpired elsewhere. To make up for this, Ruiz moves furniture about, has near and far fields migrate disjointedly in opposite directions, litters the screen with symbols and leitmotivs, and mingles different times in the same frame, so that, like Bruce Willis in Disney's Kid, Proust observes, is observed by, and even converses with his younger self. Scenes shift so fluidly back and forth through time that one easily gets lost, disoriented, unless thoroughly familiar with the book. The movie fails, has to fail, because of the impossibility of translating the book to film. The book is too introverted, too subjective, too fundamentally static and multilayered. Cinema-time is linear and dynamic; even though it can create the illusion of multiple things happening at once, it is restricted to a sequence of events, actions, happening one after another, one at a time, all of which are, above all, visual, graphic, right there before your eyes. The novel, however, layers the past on the present so that the two effectively coexist, are simultaneous; and delves into subjective states and ideas, interweaves mood, reminiscence, and philosophizing inseparably with place and person. The subject of time and memory, as elusive and evocative as it is on the page, is near nigh impossible to get hold of with film, that most literal and physical of mediums. It's like trying to photograph the passage of mist, of fog--all you see is a mess of grey. The movie also fails because it can only gloss the myriad details with which the novels slowly, deliberately mount their magnificent edifice. In the end, all you get here is a rushed visit, a mad dash through a museum of images, a disordered travelogue of the psyche.