Time Helmet is the sort of sci‑fi comedy that feels like it’s been beamed in from a parallel universe where VHS never died and imagination was still the most valuable special effect in the room. It’s scrappy, colourful, proudly weird, and absolutely buzzing with the kind of handmade charm that defined the genre’s golden age. Think Back to the Future by way of Weird Science, with a dash of Buckaroo Banzai chaos thrown in for good measure.
At the centre of the madness is Donald Voltmann, played with infectious gusto by Peter New. Donald is the kind of overconfident, underqualified inventor who could easily have wandered out of a Jack Black fever dream — a man whose enthusiasm is both his superpower and his downfall. New leans into the absurdity with total commitment, firing off jokes while grounding Donald in something surprisingly tender. Beneath the time loops, paradoxes, and gadget‑induced disasters is a dad who just wants to matter, to his daughter and to himself.
Director Mike Jackson walks a tightrope of tone with real confidence. Time Helmet never apologises for its silliness, but it also never lets the comedy drown out the emotional beats. The humour is broad but smart, leaning into physical gags, sci‑fi nonsense, and character‑driven awkwardness rather than cheap punchlines. When the film goes big, it goes big — but it always remembers the human stakes tethering the chaos together.
There’s a clear affection for classic sci‑fi storytelling here, the kind that isn’t obsessed with airtight logic so much as possibility. Time travel becomes a playground for exploring ego, regret, and the danger of believing your future self has all the answers. What could have been a throwaway gag becomes a surprisingly sharp look at self‑sabotage and the stories we tell ourselves about who we’ll become.
Despite its modest budget, the film feels ambitious and handcrafted. You can sense the labour of love in every frame — the practical effects, the production design, the scrappy inventiveness that turns limitations into personality. It’s a reminder of why independent genre films matter: they can take risks, get weird, and still land somewhere emotionally sincere.
By the time the helmet powers down, Time Helmet has delivered exactly what it promises: a zany, chaotic, unexpectedly touching sci‑fi romp powered by a lead performance with real warmth. It’s comfort‑food cinema for genre fans — the kind of film you watch with a grin and revisit when you need something unapologetically fun.
