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By Karson 2022-10-15 20:33:54
HG Wells follows Jack the Ripper in a time machine and sparks a romance...
Departure time: November 5, 1893 10:15 Arrival time: November 5, 1979 Travel
through for 2 years / minute 43 minutes 10:30-11:10
HG Wells in order to track his friends (actually also Jack the Ripper), took a time machine to the 1980s, in which the fragments of the time tunnel were very exciting, experienced major changes in history, leaders took office, and finally came to the HG Wells Pavilion at the British Museum (here, he designed the The time machine was discovered and... -
By Wiley 2022-10-15 14:28:24
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Time After Time
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Details
- Release date September 28, 1979
- Filming locations Trocadero Transfer, 520 Fourth Street, San Francisco, California, USA
- Production companies Orion Pictures, Warner Bros.
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By Creola 2023-09-15 01:45:23
Aliases:...
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By Ivy 2023-09-02 19:31:26
Why is the ending different from the unsubtitled version I watched last time? Did HG use a time machine to modify...
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By General 2023-09-01 17:20:36
This is the love affair between the old man and Aunt Mary. It actually feels quite romantic when the stories inside and outside the play are mixed together~ The special effects of Wumao make my eyes hurt, because the Ripper looks very nervous. I heard that a new edition will be published in 2017, How time flies...
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By Maximillian 2023-08-27 12:37:34
Malcolm isn't fit for a beard like...
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By Arvilla 2023-08-11 05:04:54
The old man's time travel...
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[Wells has gone to the San Francisco police department in an attempt to catch Stevenson]
H.G. Wells: His name is John Leslie Stevenson. English, he's a surgeon. Approximately, 37 years of age, flaxon-hair, clean-shaven, and stands well above 6 feet in height.
Lt. Mitchell: What makes you say that this Dr. Stevenson is responsible for the death of the girls?
H.G. Wells: I just know for a fact he is.
Lt. Mitchell: I see. Do you have spiritual powers?
H.G. Wells: Do I what?
Lt. Mitchell: Are you a medium or a mystic?
H.G. Wells: I make no claims to supernatural gifts of any sort. If I were to reveal the source of my information, I...
[beat]
H.G. Wells: As a matter of fact, I'm also a detective. I was sent from London on the trail of Stevenson, traveling incognito. My name...
[outside Mitchell's office, a fellow officer is checking a ticker-type machine that reads out no known information on John Leslie Stevenson; Wells thinks of an alias from his time he thinks the police won't recognize]
H.G. Wells: My name is Sherlock Holmes.
Lt. Mitchell: Sherlock Holmes, I see. Go on, go on.
H.G. Wells: I can't. I gave you a complete description, I told you his name. I've told you everything I know.
Lt. Mitchell: It was good of you to share your insights, Mr. Holmes. How can we reach you if we need to speak with you?
H.G. Wells: Is that necessary? I'm staying with a friend. Must we involve her?
Lt. Mitchell: Not unless it's unavoidable we contact you. We're known for our discretion.
H.G. Wells: Very well. Her name is Miss Amy Robbins. She lives at 2340 Francisco.
Lt. Mitchell: Thank you for your time, Mr. Holmes.
H.G. Wells: [beat] You don't believe me, do you?
Lt. Mitchell: Mr. Holmes, I'd like to. My job would be much simpler if I could. But this computer printout says U.S. Customs has no records of a John Leslie Stevenson entering the country. British Customs has no record of anyone by that name leaving Great Britain. And there's also no mention of a Sherlock Holmes coming into the country either. Now, of course, he could be using another name. But since we don't even know where he is at the moment, we can't very well pick him up for questioning. Can we?
H.G. Wells: [defeated] No. Well, thank you for your time. Good day.
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[with no other place to stay, Wells enters an empty church and sits in a pew]
H.G. Wells: [speaking to God] I don't believe you exist. But if you do, I need your help. Just let me stay the night and I'll be on my way in the morning. I won't trouble you again.
[as he starts to rest, a Clergyman approaches him]
Clergyman: I'm sorry, we're closing now.
[cut to Wells sitting on a park bench desperately trying to keep warm]
H.G. Wells: [dismissively] Utopia.
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[at the Chartered Bank of London, Wells approaches the desk of Amy Robbins, who runs foreign currency]
Amy Robbins: May I help you?
H.G. Wells: I'd like to see the foreign currency officer.
Amy Robbins: You're looking at him.
H.G. Wells: You? Surely there must be a gentleman.
Amy Robbins: Don't be a chauvinist. It's taken me three years to get here. Don't you believe in women's liberation?
H.G. Wells: [to himself] Women's liberation.
[to Amy]
H.G. Wells: I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect. In fact, I was all for it, so I shouldn't complain.
Amy Robbins: You *were* all for it? What changed your mind?
H.G. Wells: [beat] Nothing. I don't know whether you can help me.
Amy Robbins: May I help you?
H.G. Wells: I'm certainly willing for you to try. I'm looking for an Englishman who may have tried to exchange money.
Amy Robbins: I'll say!
H.G. Wells: Then he was here?
Amy Robbins: Yesterday, big as life. With a money belt that was even bigger. Must've weighed a ton. A friend?
H.G. Wells: We were traveling together and now I've lost him. His name was John Leslie Stevenson.
Amy Robbins: That's him. I wanted him to open an account but he only cashed a few hundred dollars.
H.G. Wells: You wouldn't happen to know what's become of him?
Amy Robbins: He asked me to recommend a hotel.
H.G. Wells: A hotel?
Amy Robbins: I sent him to the Hyatt Regency.
H.G. Wells: Hyatt Regency?
Amy Robbins: Yeah.
[she writes him the address on the back of her business card, then hands it to him]
H.G. Wells: Oh, thank you.
Amy Robbins: You here on a visit? Tourist type thing? If you don't know anyone, let me show you around. We San Franciscans are pretty proud of this old town.
H.G. Wells: Well... yes, perhaps that might be nice.
Amy Robbins: It's your option. You've got the card. Give me a ring. My name's Amy.
H.G. Wells: A ring?
Amy Robbins: You know.
[mimes dialing a telephone number]
H.G. Wells: Oh, yeah, yeah.
[smiles, miming the same action despite not having a clue what it means]
Amy Robbins: My number's on the card.
[Wells starts to leave]
Amy Robbins: What's your name?
H.G. Wells: Herbert... Wells.
