Alfonso Cuaron's "Children of Men" is perhaps the simplest futuristic dystopia ever made. Unlike Spielberg's "Artificial Intelligence" or Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner," this tragic masterpiece boasts no overwhelming special effects or grand explanations about the state of the world.
The year is 2027, and since 2009 women have been infertile. The youngest person on Earth is the 18 year-old baby Diego, who is reported dead at the film's beginning. After watching this on the television in a caf?(c), protagonist Theo (Clive Owen, "Sin City") takes his coffee and walks out of the shop. Seconds later, the coffee shop explodes, Theo narrowly escaping by chance. Through Theo's worn and tired face, the viewer observes his regret in not having stayed a minute longer in the shop.
In place of alien invasions or nuclear missiles, infertility offers an apocalypse that is coming slow and steady, like Chinese water torture. This acceptance of impending nonexistence has caused world chaos.
The cure for this slow destruction comes in the form of a young refugee named Kee (Claire-Hope Ashitey, "Shooting Dogs"), and her pregnant belly. Kee is being protected by a revolutionary group named The Fishes, led by Theo's ex-flame Julian (Julianne Moore "Freedomland"). Julian requests Theo's aid in getting Kee transit papers so she can get a boat ride to The Human Project, some sort of scientific Godsend.
Only through smart casting and unrelenting cinematography does the film's mood maintain throughout. And while these two points sculpt the movie, it is Cuaron's steady direction and Owen's painfully stern and sullen mug that give the movie its emotional base.
This British actor made both "Closer" and "Inside Man" better than they should have been, and finally he has found a film that lives up to his talent. Recovering from a surprising and shocking death, Owen's Theo attempts to light a cigarette. As the lighter is suppressed by the bleak rain, Theo breaks down into tears, unable to control his emotions any longer. In this scene lies the beauty behind Cuaron's vision.
For a tale revolving around a futuristic tragedy, the plot, an adaptation of the novel "The Children of Men" by P.D. James, is surprisingly textbook.
There's the hero who's looking out for himself, his cynicism oozing through his eyes like a sickness. The pernicious antagonist ranges from the dystopian government to almost every human in the movie. Last but not least, there's the journey, both literal and metaphorical, through which the hero once again becomes alive, fighting for something bigger than him.
Whether it's the perfection of "Casablanca" or the moderate success of last year's "Blood Diamond," the classic heroic adventure formula works in the hands of only the most ambitious, and sensible, of storytellers.
If one doubts that Cuaron has these qualities, just look at his previous films. "Y Tu Mama Tambien" involved the road trip of two young men, both geographically and sexually, while "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" is perhaps the darkest and deepest film in that entire enjoyable franchise. The man's career has been taking a clich?(c) adventure and divulging life from the inside out.
Oddly, all three films stand in completely different genres. "Children of Men" threatens to bore, if simply through its lack of color. However, the material is gritty enough to overcompensate for glitz. "Children of Men" is an honest, emotional exploration of a society seen through the eyes of an everyman who becomes an extraordinary man not by choice, but rather by necessity.
Photo: Courtesy of Laron Fomby
