Always Late

“Always Late” isn't merely a narrative about temporal mismanagement; it's a profound, almost sociological examination of the individual's fraught relationship with the inexorable march of time and the rigid structures of societal expectation. The film meticulously charts the trajectory of Arthur Finch, a prodigious but perpetually tardy inventor, whose genius is perpetually eclipsed by his chronic inability to adhere to the clock's tyranny. His fiancée, Clara Beaumont, initially a beacon of patience and understanding, slowly succumbs to the erosion of trust and the public humiliation his lateness invariably instigates. The narrative isn't a simple comedic romp of missed appointments; it delves into the psychological underpinnings of Arthur's condition, hinting at a deeper resistance to linearity, a subconscious rebellion against the very fabric of modernity. Each missed train, each delayed proposal, each botched business meeting, becomes a poignant symbol of opportunities irrevocably lost, not just for Arthur but for those orbiting his chaotic existence. The film culminates not in a convenient resolution, but in a stark, almost existential confrontation with the consequences of his temporal estrangement, questioning whether profound talent can ever truly compensate for a fundamental discord with the world's rhythm. It’s a melancholic ballet of missed connections, a quiet tragedy played out against the relentless ticking of an unforgiving clock, forcing its audience to ponder the very nature of human accountability and the unforgiving nature of a world built on schedules.