Championing the Children

It is the morning following the death of the youngest person on Earth, 18-year-old "Baby Diego" (Juan Gabriel Yacuzzi), who is killed by an angry fan looking for an autograph. Women have been inexplicably infertile for nearly 19 years. A crowded coffee shop explodes, sending debris flying into the streets. Illegal immigrants are rounded up and placed into cages before they are carried away to refugee camps.

The great cities of the world have fallen, but Britain, as the propaganda machine claims, soldiers on. The year is 2027 - this is London.

In director Alfonso Cuarón's (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Y Tu Mamá También) latest film, Children of Men, the future looks grim indeed. Based on the novel by P.D. James, the film shows England struggling through what could be its fearful, waning hours. Without any children being born, the people of the world have lost hope.

Theodore Faron (Clive Owen, Inside Man) trudges through what he sees as his last gloomy days, drinking and smoking the time away as he works at the Ministry of Energy. Far removed from his days as an activist, Theo accepts the world around him until a proposition comes his way.

A government-labeled terrorist group known as The Fishes captures Theo at the request of its leader, Julian Taylor (Julianne Moore, Freedomland), Theo's ex-girlfriend. Though the group has questionable motives, Theo agrees (maybe for money, maybe for Julian) to help Kee, a teenage immigrant girl, obtain traveling documents to get to the coast.

But, as Theo later discovers, Kee (Claire-Hope Ashitey, Shooting Dogs) is pregnant - she and her unborn child could be humanity's last chance at survival.

Having tested his big-budget chops directing the third installment of the Harry Potter series, Cuarón never lets the thrilling action sequences eclipse the emotional resonance in his film. Told as an apocalyptic road movie, Children of Men is a fascinating, horrific journey across a devastated England, during which we are introduced to a wonderful cast of richly drawn characters.

Michael Caine (The Prestige) steals his scenes as Jasper Palmer, a marijuana-loving, Willie Nelson look-alike who has retired from his work as a political cartoonist.

A long-time friend of Theo and Julian, Jasper lives in a secluded forest cabin with his wife Janice, a journalist shocked into a near-vegetative state. The filmmakers never completely explain the characters' backstories, leaving snippets of dialogue and a series of visual cues for the audience to reassemble.

Watching Theo and Julian interact playfully once reunited, we need little more than the actors' expressions, smiles and laughter to understand how their lives once were and how they have changed. Owen proves once again that he deserves consideration as one of the finer actors around, and a miscast in the lead role would have been costly to a film that relies more on heart than it does on intricate plots.

Children of Men's intimacy can be largely attributed to its documentary-style shot composition. Filming almost entirely on handheld camera, Cuarón and cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezk resist stolid crane-shots and flashy Hollywood editing, instead letting the on-screen drama speak for itself. The style brings realism into the realm of science fiction: In the middle of an intense firefight, blood droplets stick to the camera lens while the ringing in Theo's ears can be heard on the soundtrack.

Outside of London, cities lie in rubble, and the earth is scorched and burning, with dead animals littered throughout the countryside. The filmmakers drench the scenery in a pale, ashy gray, making the rare moments of blinding sunshine all the more powerful.

Perhaps one of most haunting components to Children of Men is its utter believability. Of course the idea of women suddenly losing the ability to give birth is a long shot, but the film's depiction of the worst-case scenarios of terrorism and immigration seem terribly feasible.

While V for Vendetta's vision of dystopia was cartoonish and even laughable, Cuarón's imaging of P.D. James' novel is eerily fathomable. In 2027, London has been consumed by an assault of shameless propaganda (Gee, that could never happen, right?) in a police state based on historical military states. Europe has not seen days this bad since World War II.

And the cages and refugee camps immigrants are placed in which barely stop short of Nazi concentration camps, and are a step or two beyond the horrors of Guantanamo Bay. Theo and Kee watch Homeland Security officers strip and beat the illegal foreigners while The Libertines' song "Arbeit Macht Frei" appropriately plays subtly on the soundtrack.

Cuarón holds nothing back in terms of shocking imagery, but even the goriest moments serve a purpose. In a bomb-bursting finale, the director is more interested in Theo's dedication to Kee than in the mounting body count, honing in on the larger search for humanity amidst the violent chaos.

For all the bleak aspects of Children of Men - and there are many - the film unravels as a delicate tale of hope, a tight, emotional punch of a movie. At such a brisk pace, there is almost too much sensory information to take in at once, and the film ends with no settling conclusion as to whether or not the human race can survive.

Cuarón leaves his audience to ponder the future of mankind after digesting his intense, haunting slice of sci-fi cinema.

Contact reporter Zachary

Herrmann at herrmanndbk@gmail.com.