To search for a meaning of life – or to grapple with the lack thereof – is a life-long adventure that is as regularly frustrating as it often is triumphantly rewarding. I like to think of it as a big black void somewhere deep within me that I can either get lost in, embrace, or fill with all I appreciate about being alive. The void isn’t necessarily hostile; there are many different and differently wonderful ways to deal with the fundamental lack it represents. But I really didn’t expect Andy Samberg in a Hawaiian shirt drunkenly stumbling through a time-loop plot to look into that void, happily greet it with his signature dopey smile and return with such life-affirming fireworks.
And yet, that’s exactly what he does in Palm Springs, the triumphant debut feature of director Max Barbakow. Breathing new life into a formula that desperately needed some, the film takes the all too familiar building blocks of a time loop movie and revitalizes them in electrifying fashion. So much so that – at least for a while – you can’t wait to experience the same day over and over again.
Palm Springs starts with Nyles having already been stuck in the same day for so long that he can barely piece together the life he had had before. No matter whether he falls asleep, passes out or dies – he always wakes up on the morning of November 9. Nyles has long surrendered to his fate, so much so that he pairs his Hawaiian shirt with a blue can of beer throughout most of the film. Lucky for him, the day he is forced to relive for the foreseeable eternity is the wedding of a couple he couldn’t care less about. Which comes bundled with an open bar and several guests to potentially hook up with.
Quyen Tran’s digital cinematography really gets to shine here. She films the wedding venue with lush colors and inviting compositions – an overhead shot of Samberg floating on the aggressively blue pool is one highlight of many. But the digital sheen of the images reveals the artifice of Nyles’ pleasures, even before we find out about the time loop. Once we do, neither the pool nor the picturesque afterparty bring much pleasure anymore. They are but a backdrop for Nyles to drink and party until his brain goes numb.
However, the well-choreographed images of Nyles’ routine turn into frantic zooms and handhelds when Sarah suddenly starts throwing cans of beer at him. Sarah is the sister of the bride who, by her own words, fucks around and drinks too much. But she didn’t want to do so while reliving her sister’s wedding time and time again. Still, after following Nyles into a glowing cave in the film’s first act, she finds herself stuck alongside him in the loop.
I’m not going to reveal much else about the film’s plot, because witnessing how the film unravels its deceptively layered story is one of its greatest pleasures. The script, which Barbakow and Andy Siara started writing as film students, confronts its philosophical dilemmas head on. There is no deeper reason for their entrapment. In one scene Nyles claims himself the antichrist, only to then remind Sarah that there is no god. His only advice to her is to “learn how to suffer existence.”
But the upbeat tone never lets the absurdist defiance of their situation become derivative. The film is constantly one-upping itself, often anchoring the fantastical chaos of its premise through moments of genuine tenderness; and the script plants its seeds with such elegance you can’t help but smile once the payoffs arrive. Palm Springs offers some fantastic turns down the road, and takes most of them at full speed. While Nyles and Sarah keep the film on track even when the editing shifts up a few gears.
Samberg channels his comedic chops into a character trying to drown his existential dread in fleeting serotonin. He has loveless sex with his cheating girlfriend, takes any drug he can get his hands on and shows off some genuinely impressive moves on the dancefloor. There is comfort to the monotony; he may wake up to the exact same wedding chaos every time, but at least he does so without a hangover.
That is until Sarah joins the ride. She starts as an equally alluring and depressed counterpart to Nyles’ hedonism, which forces him to confront the deep dark nothingness at the center of his existence. The film never loses its comedic fun, and the editing remains razor-sharp throughout, but the initial panic and subsequent weariness that Cristin Milioti brings to the role is definitely felt. It doesn’t take long to find the pain behind her Disney princess eyes.
Palm Springs revels in their often joint, sometimes separate fight against their debilitating situation. Probably neither of them has even heard of Camus – yet they constantly test the limits of absurdism, debate the importance of the past for the present, or discuss the ethics of terrorizing other people. Both Nyles and Sarah are wonderfully opinionated; and fundamentally broken in very specific ways. Their desperation, debates and bonding are dominated by grim humor and a whole lot of cursing. A lot of thematic potential gets tossed to the side – especially with the side-characters. But I can’t even pretend to care. Their dynamic is too captivating; channeling a wonderful metamodern take on Harry and Sally. The film offers us the fundamental struggles of life, empathetically explored, and wrapped in the neat bow of a 90 minute high-concept comedy.
There is some bittersweet irony to Palm Springs being released at the beginning of 2020, mere months before the pandemic hit … maybe Nyles is the antichrist after all? Being trapped in the ever same location, days bleeding into each other with no end in sight, trying to find purpose in the monotony, it all feels scarily familiar now. Still, there’s also catharsis to be found in seeing those struggles trapped and contained on the screen, unable to affect us anymore in the same way they once did. The highs and lows that Nyles and Sarah go through are far more dramatic than mine were – I tried to teach myself juggling instead of going on a drug-fueled escape to another country. Nonetheless, Palm Springs is a (inadvertent) time-capsule of a very specific, quietly destabilizing feeling.
The film offers several antidotes to that uncomfortable feeling. Its most exciting one is the sheer, all-consuming fun it radiates throughout – even when it dabbles in existential waters. There is no dull moment to be found here, every second of screentime is treated as an invaluable opportunity. When Nyles and Sarah embrace being stuck together, their hyper-stylish sunglasses shielding them from any unwanted second-guessing and the camera swirling around them as if having nothing to lose, their elation had me smiling uncontrollably. But one only has to look at the facial expressions of background characters to see Barbakow’s commitment to the bit in action. For good measure, the film also throws J.K. Simmons into the mix, whose character Roy is introduced while hunting Nyles with a bow and arrow. Simmons is expectedly amazing, fully committed to the film’s absurdity.
However, Palm Springs’ most potent antidote against despair remains togetherness. Life is often a pain, but sharing it with somebody you care about makes it far less so. There is a close-up in the film of Sarah joyously smiling while celebrating Nyles’ millionth-ish birthday, star-like lights reflecting in her wide-open eyes while the lush colors of the background all seem to be pointing towards her face in unison, that had me wondering whether the meaning of life could be found somewhere within Milioti’s face. The film’s digital colors remain visibly artificial, but a person smiling can make them come to life. Even the bloodthirsty Roy gets a sentimental scene at the end, one that proves to be the thematic heart of the film – including a sweet metaphor involving literal dogshit. The answers Palm Springs provides to the great uncertainties aren’t unique. Both you and I already know them. But it’s nice to be reminded once in a while to take the leap and connect with the people around you.