Time Bandits Turned Fantasy on Its Head 40 Years Ago
Defy God, do crimes!

A boy in a ho-hum world of drudgery and bedtimes daydreams about something more fantastical. Before he knows it, he is swept up into an adventure alongside some quirky characters, on a quest for glory and fame that sees him travel into a far-off and unknown world. The premise of Time Bandits should sound familiar to anybody weaned on young adult fantasy in novels or film (or, come to think of it, isekai anime), but it’s particularly familiar when you hold it up next to British fantasy that stars young protagonists who have come unstuck in time. (Director Terry Gilliam is American, but by virtue of his membership in Monty Python and the fact he directed a movie starring both Bilbo Baggins and James Bond, it seems like he qualifies for honorary citizenship.)
Then, it sets about turning everything about its premise upside-down, in ways that, when you think about it, are every bit as crushing as that other feel-good masterpiece, Brazil. And yet, you can’t feel too let down. Gilliam is giving you the message with a friendly wink (delivered via Sean Connery, in fact). Gilliam is notorious for ambitions that outstrip his ability to deliver, which I want you to bear in mind as I say that 40 later, Time Bandits rates as one of Gilliam’s most interesting, most fun, most funny, and most ambitious films.
You’ve met Kevin (Craig Warnock) before: The boy who dreams of better things than his boring suburban lifestyle. His parents are no help at all, ignoring his interests in the glorious and bloody parts of history and crabbing at him about his bedtime when they aren’t lusting after what appliances to buy. It doesn’t take long at all before Kevin’s desire for adventure literally comes bursting into his room in the middle of the night in the form of an eternal and interdimensional crew of little people led by Randall (David Rappaport). They come out of his wardrobe, just so there’s no doubt about what sort of story we’re referencing here.
Randall and his crew are on the lam, having quit their jobs as maintenance men for the Supreme Being (he created the universe, and looks like a floating head voiced by Tony Jay), and have made off with a very special map. It turns out the universe was a rush job—finished in just six days! As a result, there are holes in the fabric of space and time, and if you happen to know where they are, you can find your way to any part of history you like. Unsatisfied with their compensation and the lack of respect from their employer, Randall and his fellow frontline workers have decided to resign and plunder history’s shiniest treasures. It’s a seemingly foolproof plan: Having fled from 1796 Italy after robbing a drunk Napoleon Bonaparte (Ian Holm, hilariously insecure), they warp to the Middle Ages, “five hundred years before the man we just robbed is even born!”
The central chunk of Time Bandits is taken up by swift changes of venue as Kevin and the bandits steal from Napoleon, lose the haul to the charity of Robin Hood (John Cleese), and then step through further holes in time that take them to ancient Greece and a night to remember on a certain cruise ship in 1912.
Eventually, though, the gang falls under the influence of the master of evil (David Warner, whose portrayal ranks as one of the all-time best depictions of a Satanic figure). Imprisoned in a fortress beyond the rest of history, Warner invests his sneering devil-analog with perfect comedic timing. Just as in Titanic and his turns as the immortal criminal Ra’s al Ghul in Batman: The Animated Series, Warner is a villain on a completely different level than the protagonists.
The Evil One lures the time bandits into his lair in search of the very shiniest of shiny treasures, but it’s all just a trick to lay hands on the map so he, too, can journey across time and remake the universe in his own banal, cold image. (He would’ve started with lasers on day one, if it were up to him.) But when the time bandits do finally muster up the courage and the conviction to fight him, the movie pulls its final subversion: They are, in fact, powerless to harm him at all, and it is only through a quite literal deus ex machina that they are not all destroyed.