There’s a metaphor in Omni Loop that speaks to my poetic heart. The lead character, Zoya Lowe—wife, mother, quantum physicist—has a black hole of regret in her chest. It’s right there, on the x-ray, diagnosed by doctors, and it’s killing her.
Written and directed by Bernardo Britto, Zoya (Mary Louise-Parker) grapples with that literal and metaphorical black hole. Omni Loop creates an intriguing blend of soft science fiction and an internal quest for meaning, leading to an exploration of personal growth and redemption through the lens of time travel. Yet, as the story unfolds, its forward-thinking themes seem to devolve into traditionalist messaging. It’s a promising start with a serious swerve.
Zoya is trapped in a time loop, reliving her final week repeatedly. Her nose starts to bleed, death is imminent, she pops a pill, and the cycle starts again. Each time Zoya returns to her hospital bed, her daughter Jayne (Hannah Pearl Utt) greets her with a relieved, “Hi, mom.” This sounds sweet in the beginning. But beware, girl, it’s a set-up. Zoya has lost hope of solving the riddle of time travel and unlocking a new life—until she bumps into a younger scientist who reawakens her zeal. Enter Paula (Ayo Edebiri), a brilliant student who shares Zoya’s regrets and aspirations. Together, they take over a research lab that’s older than Mario Bros., in hopes of reclaiming their futures.
From Gravity to Arrival, when you start with a physicist, or other type of brilliant woman, and hurl her into a sci-fi conundrum, you’ve got me. That was the initial appeal of Omni Loop and at the start I was enchanted. The setup is snappy. The filming style is softly kissed with fringe science, and the performances radiate realness—as though these are lives being lived in your neighborhood right now. Those points of appeal deepen through a narrative enriched with themes of visibility, legacy, and the complex intersections of womanhood and ambition.
However, as we settle in and start believing in this well-crafted friendship, Omni Loop takes a jarring turn. After a dismissive encounter with a misogynistic former classmate, who belittles Zoya’s scientific theories, the film swerves sharply. The guy insists her work was doomed to fail, but he always knew she’d make a good mother. Wow. This is followed by an encounter with the resentful son of Zoya’s former lab partner. In tandem, these two moments suggest Zoya’s true calling isn’t in the combination of science and motherhood but in the traditional roles defined by patriarchal expectations alone.
I wish you could see the look on my face right now. It isn’t pleasant. There I was, engaged by a film that floats at the axis of science and family, happily awaiting a big SF-y ending that ameliorates regret. But, no. What appears to be an allegory about women supporting each other, and choosing to create a balance between family and goals, takes a hard turn, veering into what feels like ‘popcorn propaganda.’ As the film progresses, it becomes clear Omni Loop isn’t about exploring the possibilities of time travel or correcting past mistakes. Instead, it implies women’s ambitions outside of domesticity are not only futile but potentially harmful to the next and future generations. Under the guise of empowerment, Omni Loop reinforces regressive ideologies about motherhood and professional sacrifice.
Equally hurtful is the way the film treats friendship. Both the leads are hyper-focused on getting a do-over to live more fully or to correct a wrong. This is ultimately due to their grief—whether for others, themselves, or for time lost. In Paula, Zoya finds the one friend who believes in her. That bond changes things for them both but Omni Loops seems to forget it happened. As the story evolves Zoya loses sight of the value of that friendship. Likewise, the film fails to recognize the strength of the bonds between women. Zoya with Paula, Zoya with her daughter Jayne, and her dawning understanding of her mother. All of those are vital. Women thrive in our relationships with each other, not only with our families but the women in our circles and communities. Losing that theme is a miss.
If I weren’t bothered and bewildered already, the covert ageism would have done me in. Woven into the conclusion is a subtle message that older women shouldn’t want anything for themselves other than to be cheerleaders for their daughters, mentees, and grandchildren. Omni Loop doesn’t reach for balance or even push Zoya to accept she can’t go back. The realization she must find meaning in what she can pass down to Jayne and Paula to help them build a better future would be welcomed. Instead, the narrative pushes Zoya to believe brilliant women must stop dreaming because achievement is impossible anyway. It seems to suggest that by focusing solely on familial obligations, women’s regrets about unfulfilled lives will go POOF! All better.
Zoya has the chance to break the cycle of allowing men to define what it means to “do great things” for women. If she had, she might’ve gifted Paula and Jayne with something invaluable: self-determination and the knowledge that loving your children is enhanced by teaching them love-of-self. Women are more than our sacrifices. We’re often told “You can’t have it all,” but men do it anyway. In the end, Zoya chooses to whisper the same tired ideologies she learned from men to herself. And thus patriarchy is passed on.
You may think I’m being too harsh. I questioned that too, but then I realized this film wouldn’t have been made if the lead was a man. Now that’s a bitter pill.
In theaters September 20
