Antonia Gentry, Madison Bailey, and Griffin Gluck do their best to buoy this predictable streamer scream-queen flick

Spoiler Alert: Major plot spoilers ahead for “Time Cut” on Netflix

I’ll sit through a lot just for a Hillary Duff song. So I’ll admit, Netflix’s latest Halloween offering Time Cut, got me just by playing “So Yesterday” in the film’s first third. Admittedly, the whole melodramatic production is a testament to what I’d do for a playlist of nostalgic bangers. I’ve stayed at parties long after their expiry for some Avril Lavigne. So yes, I figured, I can sit through a high school horror movie in hopes that they play most of my nostalgic favorites (spoiler alert: they did). And that’s the main takeaway from Time Cut. It’s a nostalgic gimme that demonstrates how far a charismatic, familiar cast and a feel-good familiar soundtrack can carry mediocre material — especially when the plot feels a little too familiar, too.

The streaming service’s strategy to recycle its young stars continues to prove deceptively effective, even when the script fails them at every turn. Because beneath the easy-watching veneer, Netflix’s latest attempt to capitalize on both Y2K nostalgia and the teen horror renaissance is a messy time-travel thriller that feels like it was written by ChatGPT after binge-watching Stranger Things, Mean Girls, and every scream queen slasher film from the late ’90s.

Time Cut Cast

But how far can a cast and a few catchy songs really carry you? Time Cut is Netflix’s attempt to answer that question. To put the theory to the test, Netflix continues its tradition of recycling its teen drama alumni, this time bringing together Antonia Gentry (of the soapy, viral mess that is Ginny & Georgia), Madison Bailey (still riding that Outer Banks wave, but clearly not as well as Drew Starkey), and Griffin Gluck (who you’ll recognize as the kid from Just Go With It or from a show like American Vandal). So honestly, when it comes to B-list teen stars, the cast is stacked. Their chemistry works. And they’re well versed enough with Netflix scripts to stand on their marks and hit their beats. The streaming service clearly knows its target audience, banking on Gen Z’s parasocial relationships they’ve built with these familiar faces.

Gentry trades the complicated (and sometimes insufferable) angst of beloved Netflix soap’s Ginny Miller in a role that is more like her character in Hulu’s Prom Dates. She’s bubbly, she’s popular, but inside she’s hiding a secret and scared to show her true self as she seeks social acceptance — sound familiar? Time Cut tries to do a ton with her character and only manages the little it does thanks to Gentry’s charming turn as Summer. Gentry plays what could be a vapid character shoehorned into a plot far too big for her development (more on that later) with surprising depth. Despite how many times she’s reduced to making wide-eyed expressions at every temporal paradox (and trust me, there are so many). 

It helps that she nails her sisterly dynamic with Bailey to a tee. As our protagonist Lucy, Bailey trades her angsty but adventurous role as Kiara on Outer Banks for an angsty but adventurous Lucy. Sure, she makes all too many pained expressions and convenient decisions but her performance is at its best when she’s playing off the other characters. After all, Outer Banks trained her to play well with others and act in an ensemble.

Meanwhile, Gluck, who’s been acting since he was a kid (Jennifer Aniston’s son in the Adam Sandler classic Just Go With It) has also put in his time on the Netflix lot. As the star of the American Vandal series, he’s honed his skill for mystery — albeit a more comedic slow burn than this nonsensical slasher. But it’s his role as outcast teen alongside Pete Davidson in Big Time Adolescence that prepares him to play the classic 2000s persecuted nerd, Quinn. Complete with the 2000s haircut Gen Z is calling “heartthrob hair” Gluck shows up in this movie forcing us to adore a character we should hate.

But though we have half-fledged characters pushed to their limit by teen drama veterans, that does not a movie make. So what is Time Cut even about? Well, it’s complicated.

What Is Time Cut About?

The premise for Time Cut sounds promising on paper. I picture the writers in the Netflix offices, pitching a cross between Mean Girls (which is having its own resurgence) and Back to the Future with a hint of the original Scream franchise. But that’s where the cool factor starts and ends.

At the top of the film we meet Lucy (Bailey), who explains (via voiceover – a poorly-rendered high school cliche and a lazy plot device) that the town she lives in is haunted thanks to the tragic murders of four high school seniors 20 years ago. One of them? The sister that she never met, who was killed before she was even born. But she has a chance to leave that town thanks to an unspecified NASA internship. However, her parents have become overprotective since the murder of her sister, Summer, and would never let her go.

But she travels further than the NASA headquarters in DC when she just happens to stumble upon a time machine set to the same date the murders began (in 2003, hence the Y2K soundtrack) and is transported back in time. Now she wonders: does she have a moral responsibility to change the past? Or keep it the way it was and head back to the future? With the help of Summer and her nerdy ally Quinn, she makes her choice: to save her sister (cue dramatic 2000s music).

The movie is cognizant of its predecessors. It references Back to the Future, She’s All That, and even Hannah Montana. But being so aware of the genre is its pitfall. The plot is predictable from the very first frame and there’s no originality in the script. The twist ending is so obvious, you can see it coming a mile away.

And that’s not to mention the logistics of the time travel concept. I’m clearly no quantum physicist. Yet, even I could tell that the basic premise — a teen traveling back to 2003 to prevent her sister’s murder — crumbles under the weight of its own rules. The time travel mechanics shift to serve the plot rather than create a coherent framework. And the characters go from concerned about paradoxes and irrevocably changing the future — a legitimate obstacle to circumvent – to deciding they just don’t care.

The script relies so heavily on fickle characters and convenient plot devices that there’s no real tension — just some gory murders that purport to serve as stakes despite our lack of investment in these meaningless murders. Worried about butterfly effects? Don’t be! This time travel only affects the contrived plot. One minute there’s a concern about ripple effects, the next there isn’t. Perhaps this is a commentary on how unpredictable teenagers are, but it seems to me more like sloppy writing.

There’s something to be said for the comfort of familiarity. Time Cut follows every beat you’d expect from both teen dramas and slasher films, it does so with enough polish to function as acceptable background viewing. This is content for a generation whose brains are addled by TikTok. Its 3-screen content — the kind you can watch on your big screen while scrolling through your little screens. The film knows its audience and delivers just enough engagement to keep viewers watching, even if they’re simultaneously playing with their phones. And if you miss a scene because you’re laughing at a TikTok? No need to hit rewind, you can probably guess what happened.

This is especially true if you watched 2023’s Prime Video’s high school slasher, Totally Killer. In it, a protagonist played by Kiernan Shipka (I’d forgive her anything) goes back in time to stop the murders that ravaged her town. Sound familiar? She even has to befriend her relative, in this case her mother — rather than sister — to solve the crime. However, in a Back to the Future move, Shipka’s Totally Killer character is attracted to the young version of her father, ick — until she realizes who he is. Doesn’t anybody have family photos? Geez.

Both films tap into generational nostalgia, but where Totally Killer makes obscure 80s references that its audience probably won’t appreciate, Time Cut is wrapped into the Y2K revival in a way that well knows its audience. From the lipgloss to the accessories, it’s straight out of a Gen Z Depop seller’s dream. That’s why it works, despite everything. 

These movies are so similar it’s making one thing clear: we’ve reached peak teen time-travel thrillers. No more high school slashers where a plucky girl has to right the wrongs of a town that doesn’t even treat her well — please! This clear oversaturation is like how Friends With Benefits came out the same year as No Strings Attached, even though they’re two identical films. I blame No Strings Attached for the death of the rom com. Will this obvious glut mean the demise of this film genre? At least until someone in Hollywood can come up with literally one fresh idea. 

The Time Cut Denouement: Explained

What makes any thriller is the plot twist and the killer reveal. You can look over any of the film’s past transgressions if there’s a satisfying ending. And while Time Cut has a pretty big twist, it isn’t executed well enough to cause anything but an eye-roll.

In a pivotal scene — complete with a car that won’t turn on and a dead guy who isn’t really dead (gasp!) — the killer’s mask cracks to reveal his face: it’s Quinn. But older. That’s right, the nerdy sidekick — who’s been harboring a crush on Summer all these years, of course! — has grown up to be the killer then time traveled to 2003 to commit the murders.

They run back to Quinn’s house, where the time machine is, and await future-evil-Quinn’s survival. As he does the obligatory villain monologue (granting our heroes time to power up the time machine as he speaks, duh), he explains how in his timeline, Summer rejected him. So he decides to kill her and her friends?

At this point, the hyperbolic dialogue can’t be faulted. “Just because I rejected you, doesn’t mean you get to murder me,” Summer yells. And you have to admit, it’s a pretty flimsy excuse. You wait 20 years to enact a revenge plan on a girl who didn’t like you back? That’s all you got? You start killing popular kids because… you were bullied in 2003? Bestie, there’s therapy for that.

This Joker-esque villain arc is barely convincing — even with Gluck’s Jack Nicholson inspired performance. 

But the complexities lie with now-Quinn’s insistence that he will never turn into that version of himself. But here’s the thing, like every other incel, radicalization doesn’t happen because of one split-second rejection. It happens over time. And maybe it happened in the 20 years it took him to build the time machine, but the feeling that Summer owed him something was already there. The Quinn we love and root for upended his morals for Summer, was ready to let Lucy die for Summer, and was already bitter over his bullying by Summer’s ex. The misogyny was coming from inside the house. And the idea that his budding romance with Lucy — a replacement for Summer who actually talks to him — could prevent him from killing people is flawed at best — toxic at worst.

In the end, Lucy and evil-Quinn jump back to the future and fight in a parking lot where Lucy brutally murders him. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but I find it hard to believe that a girl who couldn’t tell her parents about her internship was suddenly capable of stabbing someone to death.

Back in 2003, Quinn and Summer don’t seem that broken up about losing Lucy — until she comes back to them and says she’s staying in their timeline. I guess all the paradoxes they were worrying about conveniently didn’t happen. But I can’t help but think about Lucy’s life in the past. She doesn’t have parents, a place to live, and I assume any legal documentation. So when she gets accepted into the 2003 version of the NASA internship she was accepted into in 2023, how does she do it without a background check?

Plot holes upon plot holes. But at least Summer gets to kiss her girlfriend at Olive Garden.

Is Time Cut worth watching?

Perhaps the most disappointing aspect of Time Cut is its surface-level approach to representation. The film introduces a queer storyline between Summer and Emmy that could have added meaningful depth to character dynamics and the period setting. Instead, Emmy remains largely offscreen, reduced to a plot device through a letter that serves more as an emotional trigger than genuine character development.

The film glosses over the unique challenges faced by queer teens in 2003, missing an opportunity to explore how societal changes over two decades have affected LGBTQ+ youth. Lucy’s “It gets better” speech is lazily written and ignores Summer’s real fears about being queer in 2003. While it’s refreshing that the story doesn’t veer into trauma territory, the relationship feels more like a checkbox than a fully realized narrative thread.

Similarly, the film’s treatment of its Black leads feels oddly divorced from social contexts in either time period. While not every story needs to center on identity, the complete absence of any acknowledgment feels like an oversight in a story about moving between different eras. 

The most frustrating aspect of Time Cut isn’t its trite plot but its glimpses of what could have been. Moments of genuine connection between the sisters hint at a more compelling story about family, loss, and identity that gets buried under genre conventions and plot mechanics.

Despite its narrative shortcomings, Time Cut is a compelling case for Y2K nostalgia. Enough to make it worth watching just for details like the jangly accessories, flip phones, and  the 2000s-era UGGs (no platform UGGs to be found). The production design team crafts a convincing early 2000s environment that serves as more than mere nostalgia bait. The attention to detail in costume and set design creates an immersive atmosphere that helps smooth out the plot’s rougher edges. The soundtrack is so well rendered, featuring deep cuts from the late ’90s that will have millennials and zillennials alike experiencing visceral flashbacks to their first school dance. 

Time Cut is a perfect comfort watch for fall. It’s the kind of film that’s great for a lazy Sunday when you’re not looking to be challenged but still want to be entertained. The strong performances from its lead trio and polished production values make it watchable despite its flaws, and make me excited to see what they do next.