Brigadoon isn't a love story -- I mean, it is, of course, because it's a musical, but it really shouldn't be. It's a horror movie, a grotesquerie, a terrifying sci-fi cautionary tale with extraordinarily threatening religious undertones. It shouldn't be a lushly produced, Vincente Minelli-directed Cinemascope tentpole with an iconic Lerner-and-Loewe book and score (respectively), it should be a deeply chilling, very special episode of the Twilight Zone. [...]
First: Effectively, the residents of Brigadoon are experiencing a normal, continuous life, going to bed and then waking up, except that when they wake up, it's 100 years later than when they fell asleep. Where the village goes when it disappears, and whether the residents literally sleep for 100 years without aging or whether they in fact are in a Brigadoon-effect bubble of time dilation and sleep for just one night is unclear, but since the source of the village's magic in this world is actually, literally, Yaweh the Judeo-Christian god, let's just wave away the question and file it under "omnipotence, idk." Functionally, when you go to sleep in Brigadoon, you wake up a century in the future.
Second: If the village was
cursedblessed with its time-dilation bubble 200 years ago, and it's on a century cycle, that means that this is only the second time ever that the village has reappeared. More to the point, because the Brigadoonians experience time continuously, it's only two days later for them. The priest prayed his magic wish-prayer and it was granted by apparently Loki-Yahweh or someone and the entire town is trapped in a time-dilation bubble and it's ONLY BEEN TWO DAYS and they are all SHOCKINGLY CALM ABOUT THIS which is ABSOLUTELY INSANE. [...]
More to the point, though, how is this nightmare reality in which they now live not the entire focus of the story? [...] It seems to me that a foundational allure of creating a world in which magic/weird science/God-induced miracles exists would be sitting down and seeing what the logical consequences are of your authorial tweak to the fabric of reality. (For example, I am constantly annoyed whenever characters in stories encounter ghosts or the spirits of dead people, and don't immediately reassess their metaphysical understanding of reality, particularly their own corporeal forms, and also just completely recalibrate their own fear of death. Wouldn't you?)
But seriously. If you're going to create a world where an entire town of Puritanical eighteenth-century Scots(wo)men have their town converted into a forward-motion-only time machine that will, in the span of just one year in their eyes, deposit them in the year 38235 -- that's thirty-eight thousand two hundred thirty five -- in what frickin universe does it make any sense whatsoever to make your story about a guy one of the village girls develops a crush on, on day goddamn two!?!
Brigadoon The Time Machine