The year is 2027, and the youngest person on the planet, an eighteen-year-old man, has just been killed. No children have been born since 2009. In this dismal scenario, violence is a daily occurrence, and suicide is just a simple government-issued pill away. After all, there’s no reason to live, no reason to make the world a better place, no reason for hope. As Theo (Clive Owen) says in Alfonso Cuaron’s Children of Men, “What’s the point? Fifty years and it’s all over anyway.”
Cuaron does a marvelous job of bringing P.D. James’ dystopian novel to life. With his grim visuals, washed-out colors, and tension-filled violence, one can feel the despondency that lies over the English countryside like a London fog. As the mid-wife Miriam (Pam Ferris) notes, “Very odd, what happens in a world without children’s voices.”
We are not left long without hope, however. Theo’s activist ex-wife Julian (Julianne Moore) asks for Theo’s help in getting an illegal immigrant, Kee (Claire-Hope Ashitey), to the coast. It isn’t long before Kee lets him know what’s at stake: she is pregnant. As their journey becomes ever more dangerous and multiple deceptions lead to omnipresent mistrust, Theo overcomes his lassitude in order to protect the future of mankind.
The movie differs considerably from the novel by P.D. James. Theo’s cousin – the warden of England in the book – has much less of a role in the movie, while the radical Fishes group has much more. James’ novel excels in creeping horror, particularly with the Quietus (the government-sanctioned/encouraged/enforced suicide), while the film’s horror is more visceral and violent. And where James’ novel starts off slow, almost plodding, and builds to its climax, Cuaron’s vision starts with a bang (literally) and then repeatedly slams you against the wall. With all the differences, though, and there are many more, Cuaron’s film is still a fantastic work of art in its own right. Two scenes in particular moved me with their powerful long takes and compelling story-telling.
The film is compelling, no doubt about it. It’s hard not to watch it and wonder what would happen if life were really like this. Cuaron’s brilliance, though, is not just making us wonder (as well as feel) what the world would be like. His brilliance is in bringing the story down to one man. This isn’t just a tale about mankind, but about how one man in particular overcomes his own doubt, self-loathing, and tragedy for someone else.
It was difficult not to draw religious parallels in Children of Men (something James was very aware of). Kee, a woman from the lower rungs of society, reveals her pregnancy to Theo in a barn filled with hay. Whenever anyone sees that Kee is pregnant, they utter the phrase “Jesus Christ,” which didn’t sound so much like a curse as it did a proclamation. As Kee walks through a crowd with her baby, people reach out to touch a tiny foot. This is the child who heralds life and brings hope, and it is this child’s cry that brings peace, even if only for a moment.
While this is a violent movie, the violence isn’t gratuitous. It is a reminder of what a fallen and hopeless world is like. Rather than succumb to despair, though, it also reminds us that beauty can be found in a child’s laugh or the hand of a friend. Children of Men is worth seeing and then worth seeing again because of these simple reminders.
However, the book has been stripped of all of its Christian symbolism and its theological themes, correct?
Comment by tmatt — January 13, 2007 @ 9:42 am |