children of men

THE FLICK: The British always seem to end the world with a whimper rather than a bang. Compare the dystopian apocalypse of Children of Men to the likes of Independence Day and you’ll see what I mean. Adapted from the work of mystery novelist P.D. James, it is the year 2027 and the world is dying a slow death after 18 years of infertility. Britain has closed its borders and actively rounds up illegals for deportation. The global atmosphere is one of gloom, doom and decay. From this prophecy of pessimisms emerges a miracle, a ‘fugee named Kee (Claire-Hope Ashitey), inexplicably pregnant and in the care of anti-government activists. Through a series of clandestine plots and double-crosses, Kee winds up on the run with Theo (Clive Owen) on a near suicidal journey to reach the sea and a tenuous rescue by The Human Project. Despite the sci-fi element, Children of Men is a particularly human story that takes on much more cultural meaning by virtue of director Alfonso Cuaron’s (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) incisive creative choices than it likely did on the page. Lacking any internal dialogue, Theo is a relatively bland protagonist whose personal demons and political biases are so broadly expressed they have little impact on the story. But Cuaron’s bold camera techniques make us a culpable accessory to his character’s actions, dragging us through tense car chases and battle sequences that look nothing like their Hollywood counterparts. Ultimately inspiring us to fight, sacrifice, and even die for a cause the rest of world is too self-involved to notice, despite the fact that the survival of the species depends on it. The plot unfolds in a traditional linear fashion, but the look and hook of the film is its dingy European setting, set in a drab London stuck in economic mire but with a vid-screen in every corner and cubicle. Cuaron and his crew fashion a world that hit its peak and is now on the decline, reverting back to 20th century technology and ideology. Signposts of revolutions past, from the counter-culture soundtrack to Michael Caine’s aged hippie collaborator, are everywhere. And the masterfully long single-camera set-ups pull the viewer along on a cautionary tale that feels all too close to reality; a future where we have no one to blame for our own demise but ourselves. THE FEATURES: The deleted scenes aren’t significant enough to even comment on and Cuaron doesn’t contribute a commentary. Instead philosophers, sociologists, and human geographers contribute to the centerpiece of the DVD extras, The Possibility of Hope, a documentary made by Cuaron to support the many talking points the film bring up. Shot in the same verite style of the film itself, the doc is like a college lecture on human interactions. Philosopher and cultural critic Slavoj Zizek gets his own segment as well, espousing the merits of the film’s emphasis on “background” thematic elements versus “foreground” plot points (see, I told you this was heavy stuff!). The film’s ingenious handheld camera work and action choreography is detailed in the segment Under Attack. Insights from the actors’ perspective comes by way of the featurette Theo & Julian. The gritty production design, described by Cuaron as approaching “anti-drama,” is covered in Futuristic Design. And Creating the Baby focuses on the climactic birth sequence, breaking down the computer generated accomplishment in a wordless montage of truly brilliant but seamless effects work.