by Whitley Albury, Staff Writer

When Alfonso Cuarón adapted PD James’ Children of Men fifteen years ago, some people had their doubts. Mostly because Cuarón’s previous directing credit (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) was so vastly different. Instead of the dread of Dementors floating around a magical castle campus, it’s the existential dread of a failed future. A future where children just don’t exist.

Now that we’re much closer to the 2027 time frame presented, it’s always fun (meaning: horrifying) to see how much has changed over the last fifteen years. Theo (Clive Owen) wears a London 2012 sweatshirt from the Olympics, which truly does feel like a lifetime ago. The Fishes, a group of activists, alternate between extreme violence and subterfuge when it comes to advocating for immigrant rights. Bombings are a common enough occurance that it doesn’t phase a workday. The government is convinced that the reason the birth rate doesn’t exist is due to illnesses carried by refugees, since a flu pandemic killed off a large portion of the child population.

I think that’s the main sticking point for me, watching Children of Men for the first time in about a decade in our second full blown year in a pandemic. The dystopia that we’re supposed to avoid has actually kind of become our present. Of course, this is all set in England, but the feeling of dread is still the same. Seeing as the lower birth rate is very much a real thing for a myriad of reasons, the future in Children of Men is a bit more believable. Add to it the fact that the original novel was set in 2021, and it's a deeply unsettling feeling. And seeing these activists who have the “right idea,” but have the worst possible approach to it. Not that there is a right way to approach fighting for human rights, as diplomacy just goes in circles and violence is just making matters worse.

The overall problems in-universe stem from immigration, according to this futuristic government. Never mind the fact that England was already having its own problems before the birth rate dropped, and that it’s happening everywhere, regardless of immigration status. And it’s particularly interesting to think about the fact that the film was directed by Cuarón, a Mexican filmmaker, who went on to be nominated for Academy Awards for this particular film. His love of long takes truly does lend itself to the story, even all this time later. It makes you, as the viewer, feel slightly helpless as these atrocious things just keep happening with no way to pull back. It also brings up a fantastic point that the first child to be born in eighteen years is born to an immigrant.

That’s not to say that everything in this only-slightly-distant future is still all gloom and doom, though. Michael Caine’s performance as Jasper, Theo’s friend/somewhat father figure, is one of my all time favorites. He’s got that instant likeability as an aged hippie without feeling out of place, even now. When Kee (Clare-Hope Ashitey) reveals her pregnancy to Theo, he’s obviously thinking that this is some next-level Messiah story. The way the scene is shot also lends to that idea, with Kee saying she’s a virgin with a straight face, then: “I don’t know most of the wankers’ names.” The fact that Theo goes through hell to get Kee to safety while wearing flip flops is just such a fantastic choice, as well. The scenes from the power station, featuring the “most important” pieces of art, also lend a bit of a through-the-looking-glass feeling to the story. Because really, when you think about it, does David really need to be there if the sculpture is missing a chunk of leg?

I think that we could maybe pull away from this disastrous future, however. It rings as more of a warning now than it did fifteen years ago. Do I think everyone should give it a rewatch? Maybe. But I think the most important part that comes through is a sense of hope in this (slightly) fictional hopeless world. And that’s something that we all really need right now.